Here’s a picture that we never expected to see in such good condition… and NOBODY is complaining.
RKO never gave their house producer Val Lewton proper credit for practically saving the studio with Cat People. But they changed his production profile for Isle of the Dead and The Body Snatcher, actually doing him a big favor. Boris Karloff was hired, which pushed the pictures to a higher level of industry respectability. All three of Karloff’s films were to be period pieces, with perhaps a few more dollars allocated to the budget. Lewton still rankled at being told what he had to produce, and still remained an intense worrywart that should have been looking out for ulcers and heart attacks. But the producer got along exceedingly well with Karloff, who was grateful to be given such elevated material to play — leading roles with complex characters. The Body Snatcher turned out to be one of the better Lewtons. Karloff may give his best film performance this side of the original Frankenstein.
Lewton’s film unit creates an impressive Edinburgh on RKO’s standing sets, using only a few stock shots of the city’s famous castle. Impoverished cabbie John Gray (Boris Karloff) follows in the footsteps of the infamous Burke and Hare by ‘procuring’ unusually fresh corpses for the dissection classrooms of noted anatomist Wolfe ‘Toddy’ MacFarlane (Henry Daniell). When the graveyards are too closely guarded, Gray asphyxiates his victims with his large hands, a technique he calls ‘Burking.’ MacFarlane’s promising anatomy student Donald Fettes (Russell Wade) discovers the illegal commerce going on below stairs and tries to stop the killing by interesting his teacher in curing a paralyzed child (Sharyn Moffett). But Toddy and Gray are engaged in a grim war of entreaties and threats… as much as he denies it, MacFarlane is complicit in murder, a fact the bitter Gray won’t let him forget.
Do all of Val Lewton’s movies begin with music suitable for a funeral? That’s the mood set here, surely. To adapt Robert Louis Stevenson’s classic tale Val Lewton tapped Philip McDonald, a contributor to Rebecca back at Selznick’s, and an author who would end up with credits on several memorable pictures, including Sahara. Lewton’s own writing contribution to The Body Snatcher was so substantial that he gave himself a credit under his occasional nom de plume Carlos Keith. His adaptation of the basic Burke and Hare resurrectionist story is an excellent example of how clever writing could reshuffle gory and sordid material into a form acceptable to the Production Code. Other ‘straight’ tellings of the same tale (1959’s The Flesh and the Fiends and 1985’s The Doctor and the Devils) use the all-too predictable device that one of the ‘Burked’ corpses turns out to be someone beloved to the anatomists. Lewton bests them by managing a semi-superstitious shocker of a finale that really surprises audiences. He also works in the Edinburgh legend of Greyfriars Bobby.
The dialogue is superb, particularly between Boris Karloff and Henry Daniell. The two fine actors are given scenes they can really sink their teeth into; this is probably Daniell’s finest acting hour as well. Gray and MacFarlane are a pair of symbiotic ghouls, ‘fiends for the flesh’ yet also sympathetic. MacFarlane has respectable breeding, high ideals and a lofty station in society, yet he lacks the ability to empathize with his patients. When the little handicapped girl won’t answer his questions, he doesn’t realize that she’s simply afraid, and would trust him if he stopped being so autocratic. John Gray is even more complicated — he likes people and animals, and easily charms the little girl by introducing her to his horse. But he’s also a verminous lowlife who long ago lost his faith in justice. He now lives in a stable. The proud Gray has an unlimited ability to hold a grudge. Having once served a prison sentence for MacFarlane, resentment oozes from his pores. Once Gray gets his hooks into the imperious ‘great man of consequence’ nothing can make him loosen his grip.
Karloff’s role here will be a revelation to many. The great actor made so many films that wasted his potential, it’s gratifying to see him cut loose and show what he can do. Whether sitting alone in his stable or downing a pint in the pub, ingrained hatred shows though Gray’s feigned good manners. As he punctures a piece of bread with his knife, Gray surmises that “Toddy would like to do this all over my body,” Karloff’s lisp adds to his character. Unlike the greedy ghouls of the other body-snatching movies, money is not Gray’s basic motivation. He is raw material for a one-man lower-class revolution. It’s a Grand Guignol situation: Gray doesn’t want peace with the pompous doctor, as he derives far too much pleasure from watching him squirm. Karloff would play an even more complicated character in his final film for Val Lewton, Bedlam.
Bela Lugosi has little to do. He looks pitiful stuttering through scenes completely overwhelmed by the ‘upstart’ who took over the mantle of horror king so many years before. Although various commentators say that Lugosi’s scenes with Karloff are an equal match, it’s just not borne out in the film. The young lead Russell Wade is more credible than he was in The Ghost Ship but is still merely adequate. Later genre favorite Robert Clarke is a standout as another student of anatomy. Edith Atwater’s Meg is a perfect example of a Val Lewton ‘minor’ role given special significance: the ‘great doctor’ MacFarland hides their relationship because she’s not of his class, yet she remains devoted to him. The subplot about curing a little girl’s injured back is handled exceedingly well, yet it seems ordinary when placed against the movie’s darker themes.
When RKO split up the Val Lewton / Jacques Tourneur team, Lewton insisted on promoting his star editors Robert Wise and Mark Robson to director status. Had his Orson Welles association not put him in the doghouse, the solid talent Robert Wise might have started directing two years earlier. He does a very good job, but he’s not an actor’s director — Karloff and Daniell hardly need direction, and the performances of the other overtaxed contract players are not exemplary. It’s all in the script and a bit of special casting.
I’m reminded that Wise was always better than Mark Robson, which is not exactly major praise. My favorite Lewton The Seventh Victim must be appreciated despite a number of weak, sketchy performances that needed a better director. Robert Wise made many superb movies, but I probably fixate on too much of the wrong information about him. I still think of Wise as a producer’s director who played a sharp political game. Two of his major career moves involved taking over from other directors that had fallen out of favor with the front office. And when he and Robson were in a position to start their own film company, Val Lewton was all but destroyed by their decision to edge him out in favor of Stanley Kramer, and then Theron Warth. Lewton may not have known how to be a partner instead of a boss, or the younger men may have decided that he was ill-equipped to survive in the cutthroat movie business, but still…
Lewton can’t afford many extras, but a parade of guardsmen in uniform gives a street scene excellent flavor. Nailing the Scottish atmosphere is the small role played by 15 year-old Donna Lee, a singing prodigy whose voice manages a heartbreaking accent. Often credited to Robert Wise is an effective minimalist scene of murder that uses just one static angle on an arched roadway, and a plaintive folk song. The scene puts an end to our split attitude about John Gray — despite his underdog status, he’s thoroughly despicable.
Although still not an ‘A’ production, The Body Snatcher could no longer be called an impoverished B Picture because it outperformed RKO projects that cost five times as much. It was about this time that Val Lewton was earning national publicity, inspired by glowing reviews from critic James Agee. Savant once read a publicity-oriented Life magazine article that bestowed upon Lewton the title, ‘Sultan of Shudders.’ I wonder if the publicity actually hurt Lewton’s standing with the new regime at RKO. ‘B’ unit ’employees’ were likely expected to remain invisible, to earn safe money, and not make the studio’s hierarchy look upside-down.
