Boris
Karloff’s follow-up to The Man with Nine
Lives (1940) was another in his gallery of mad scientists, completing a trio with director Nick Grinde for Columbia Pictures here from a script by radio dramatist Robert Hardy Andrews. It’s a cut above the usual fare with a tense and
claustrophobic atmosphere of Noirish doom that thankfully had its original
misleading title changed from the tacky The
Wizard of Death.
Karloff is
Dr John Garth, a scientist about to be sentenced to death but media-labelled as
the ‘Mercy Killer’ for his abortive attempt to prolong the life of a patient.
Compounding the back-story for sympathy, he delivers his last statement to the
judge with a sincere gravitas, explaining his altruistic motives for trying to
end the man’s suffering with which “old age had poisoned his body”. Indeed, made
up with white hair and moustache his character is every inch a kindly,
compassionate grandfather figure.
The judge is
forced to rule that Garth be hanged within the next month, yet with three weeks
to go he is offered the chance to continue his work by the Warden (Ben
Taggart), who is fascinated by his idea of a serum extracted from life cells in
a quest for possible immortality. “A race for life against death,” Garth
observes lugubriously, but jumps at the chance to do as much as he can. His
plaintive daughter Martha (Evelyn Keyes) and his assistant, her fiancé Dr Ames,
campaign for his freedom, (a minimal role for the athletic Bruce Bennett who
distinguished himself more as a silver medallist shot-putter in the 1928
Olympic Games).
Garth
instead employs an interested colleague to assist him in his research, Dr Ralph
Howard - a return to scholarly roles for Edward Van Sloan famous as Van Helsing
in the first two Dracula films, with
Karloff in Frankenstein as well as The Mummy amongst others. He is almost
unrecognisable without his familiar glasses and adds academic dignity to the
medical fun and games alongside Karloff. The fatal variable in the ensuing lab
work comes courtesy of Garth’s decision to use the blood of an executed
three-time killer for his next batch of serum. The other twist is that after
persuading Howard to inject him as a guinea-pig, his sentence is commuted to
life imprisonment. Suddenly he is the unexpected beneficiary of extended life
anyway notwithstanding a blood-stream swimming with pioneering fluid.
Dr Howard is
the first to notice the side-effects apparent in his colleague: a gradual
reversing of the aging process. Garth’s hair is returning subtly to grey and
his eyesight has regained strength. The bad news is that he is also in
possession of an unwelcome bonus tendency toward homicidal impulses. While this
is the only aspect of the film that jumps the credibility gap in an otherwise
sterling bid for tonal realism. It’s also where the macabre fun is to be had.
Over the course of the remaining plot, whenever his work is threatened Garth
unwittingly glazes over as the murderer within takes over. Karloff perspires at
the brow, coils a silk handkerchief into an elegant strangler’s weapon and
gravely throttles his victim with a gritty grim understatement, beginning with
the unfortunate Dr Howard. His use of shiny black rubber gloves is a memorable touch of sadistic kink.
It is not
only Before I Hang’s unseen killer
who casts a perceptible shadow over the film. Cinematographer Benjamin Kline
who had previously worked with Grinde and Karloff shooting The Man They Could Not Hang (1939) and The Man With Nine Lives (1940) aids the Film Noir mood greatly. His
gloomy lighting creates a tangible brooding dread especially as Garth begins
his uncontrollable descent into serial dispatching.
There’s a
nice irony in the judge decreeing that without evidence implicating him in
Howard’s murder, Garth is soon pardoned with the declaration: “We hope and pray
that your life will be long and fruitful”. If he only knew the toxic brew coursing
through the former prisoner, he may have reconsidered.
Like a
walking virus, Garth is commanded from within to spread his infection with no
time to waste. He bluntly tries to convince his gracefully aging friends to
volunteer for inoculation. Aside from a mature acceptance of their allotted
“three score and ten”, one look at his twitchy forcefulness tells them that
this is not a Fountain of Youth they fancy drinking from. A one-on-one appeal
though to esteemed pianist pal Victor Sondini (Pedro de Cordoba) does the
trick, but before Garth can inject him his Mr Hyde persona curtails Sondini’s
ivory-tinkling for ever.
Ultimately the
once-good doctor has to be stopped yet it won’t be a wooden turn from Don
Beddoe’s Capt. Magraw that does it. Garth himself must turn himself in. He
attempts to do so in a conditional fireside confession to his friend George
Wharton (Wright Kramer), scuppered however by the handkerchief handiwork of his
alter-ego. Enough of Garth’s humanity is accessible for him to finally turn
himself in to the safekeeping of his prison. The staging of this climax is
handled effectively as he marches with purpose through the fog to the gates and
an inevitable Hollywood price to be paid…
Overall, Before I Hang is a solid and surprisingly
meaty horror-thriller across such a slight running time of sixty minutes.
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