The Invisible Ray The Bela Lugosi Collection

U.S.A. | 1936 Directed by Lambert Hillyer Starring Boris Karloff Bela Lugosi Frances Drake B&W | 80 Minutes | Not Rated Format: DVD (R1 - NTSC) Universal Home Video

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8     8   10 = Highest Rating   Guest Review by Troy Howarth

• A look at one of the films in The Bela Lugosi Collection • DVD Rating is for entire set

A scientist (Boris Karloff) becomes contaminated with radium, and the effects destroy his mind and transform his body into a killing machine...     Following the Poe adaptations The Black Cat (1934) and The Raven (1935), Universal paired their prize bogeymen Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi in this rather unusual sci-fi thriller. While The Black Cat provided the two stars with equal opportunity to shine, The Raven, for what it was worth, was very much a one-man show for a singularly unhinged Lugosi. The Invisible Ray switches the tables, offering a ripe Karloff in one of his first 'mad scientist' roles and relegating Lugosi to the sidelines. Though not as effective as their first co-starring vehicle, the film dances circles around The Raven (possibly the shoddiest of the '30s horrors produced by Universal) and remains one of the more entertaining of its ilk.     Director Lambert Hillyer, a veteran of countless B westerns, found himself in the position of directing Universal's only horror/sci-fi pictures of 1936, a solid indicator that their standards were going downhill following the earlier works by the likes of James Whale (Frankenstein), Karl Freund (The Mummy) and Edgar G. Ulmer (The Black Cat), and if The Invisible Ray shows some signs of being a B production, Hillyer is to be commended for rising to the challenge with plenty of style. Between this and Dracula's Daughter, the director shows a flair for atmosphere that is not evident in his other films — in fairness, perhaps the real auteur behind both is cameraman George Robinson, who later leant a similar moody tone to the even lower budgeted entries by Erle C. Kenton, such as House Of Frankenstein and House Of Dracula. Regardless of how one views Hillyer's role as a director, the fact remains that he came through on both films — Dracula's Daughter is certainly a marked improvement on the stagebound Dracula (1931), while The Invisible Ray affects an unusual fusion of Gothic horror trappings and science fiction, thus ensuring it a distinctive personality in '30s genre cinema.     At the film's core is an oft-debated performance from Boris Karloff. An actor normally known for his subtlety and nuance of character, he goes into barnstorming mode for this role, though I would argue it suits the character's off-balanced state of mind. Compared to Lugosi's turn in The Raven, Karloff is a model of restraint in this film. Even his most over the top moments ("You... thieves... THIEVES!") manage to skirt camp excess, though it's easy to see why some viewers have a hard time taking him seriously in the role. Given the character's propensity for melodramatics as well as his nationality (Hungarian) it seems odd that Universal didn't cast Lugosi in the role, but doubtless they wanted to reward their biggest genre star for standing on the sidelines in their previous film together. Despite his curly black wig and porn star mustache, Karloff is never credibly Hungarian and he, perhaps wisely, doesn't attempt a suitable accent, playing the role with his usual manner of delivery. Even so, the actor's natural charisma and screen presence goes a long way, and he taps into his tremendous capacity for pathos to elevate the role beyond a complete stereotype.     Though his role is relatively minor, Lugosi is extremely impressive here. If The Raven catered to his ability to play to the back row, his role here removes any doubt as to what a fine, natural performer he could be. Cast essentially as Karloff's scientific rival, he comes across as sympathetic, even heroic. The actor's usual theatrical mannerisms are kept completely in check, and if the role doesn't allow him any particularly outstanding moments, his subtle underplaying helps to balance Karloff's more over the top performance.     The supporting cast is impressive, as well. Frances Drake, surely one of the loveliest '30s starlets, imbues her role as Karloff's confused wife with spunky determination. Compared to many of the horror heroines of the period, Drake comes off as intelligent and resourceful, well able to fend for herself as opposed to shrieking and fainting every ten minutes, a la Fay Wray (Dr. X) or Jacqueline Wells (The Black Cat). The obligatory handsome hero is nicely played by Frank Lawton, better known for his leading role in MGM's David Copperfield (playing the grown up David). Lawton is nowhere near as stiff as Universal's standby David Manners (The Mummy), and he shows some nice chemistry with Drake while proving a likable foil for Karloff. Comic relief is provided by Walter Kingsford, and for once the relief is unobtrusive and smoothly integrated into the material.     With its silky black and white photography, effective special effects work by John P. Fulton (The Invisible Man) and rousing music score by Franz Waxman (reusing elements from his masterful soundtrack for Bride Of Frankenstein), The Invisible Ray is worthy of much of the fan consideration that it has received in the past. It remains on the most purely entertaining entries in Universal's canon of classic '30s horrors, and on that level alone it is essential viewing.

Released as part of Universal's Bela Lugosi Collection, The Invisible Ray gets a nice transfer. The fullframe image looks very good for a film of this vintage — some print damage is in evidence, but scratching and other defects are kept to a minimum. Robinson's moody lighting comes across very well — blacks are deep, whites are clean, and there's nice contrast in the gray scale. The mono English soundtrack is solid, if unspectacular; dialogue is clear and distinct, and the music has nice presence, though there's some minor hissing evident. A trio of RealArt reissue trailers (including one for Invisible Ray) are the only extras. (See EC's review of The Black Cat for a general description of the five-film Bela Lugosi Collection DVD.) 5/22/06

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