For their
fourth jaunt into horror-comedy mash-ups involving infamous monsters, Bud and
Lou’s producers still kept The Mummy
on the back incense-burner while they took on another unholy double-act in Abbott and Costello Meet Dr Jekyll and Mr
Hyde (1953). Although versions of Robert Louis Stevenson’s lurid 1886 tale had
unleashed man’s inner primitive self on screen since 1908, surprisingly this
was only the second time it had been exploited for humour – the first being Stan
Laurel’s excellent pre-Hardy solo short from 1925, Dr Pickle and Mr Pryde (see my earlier review). The other more
pleasant surprise is the degree of integrity that the Abbott and Costello brand
applies to their remake. Theirs is less of a comedy (mainly bereft of laughs,
which is a weakness) and more like a straight horror homage with added comedy
support – in some ways to its benefit – in a script by Sid Fields partnered with
Lee Loeb and the usually dependable John Grant. Fans may be disappointed that
one-liner gags are unusually sparse in the resulting script, sacrificed for
kinetic physical energy.
Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde was the second time the boys were
pitted against Universal’s master of velvety menace, Boris Karloff. Intriguingly,
the studio’s original choice was Basil Rathbone. Due to his unavailability,
house director Charles Lamont suggested Karloff again for a role that would be
his first return to full-on monstrosity since working with Rathbone on Son of Frankenstein (1939).
Such is the
film’s keenness to respect Stevenson’s story that Bud and Lou are only in one
scene in the first twenty minutes. Instead we are given time to be gradually absorbed
into the Hollywood idea of Victorian London with its pea-souper fog,
ever-present police ‘bobbies’ and a commendably serious bid to establish the
key relationships. The opening in fact goes straight for horror frissons by
showing Mr Hyde beating to death eminent surgeon Dr Poole (named after Jekyll’s
butler in the novel) with his cane in Hyde Park.
We are then
introduced to the romantic lead, reporter Bruce Adams played by an assured Craig
Stevens four years before becoming TV’s equally dogged private eye Peter Gunn. He becomes enamoured of
suffragette music-hall chanteuse Vicky Edwards (Helen Westcott) which is more
than modern feminists will after seeing how they are portrayed here. How are
they shown drumming up support for their cause to be taken seriously? Why, by a
Folies Bergère cabaret song and dance complete with high-kicking leg show of
course!
The meeting soon
descends into lowbrow rough-and-tumble when Abbott and Costello arrive as two
American cops, Tubby and Slim, learning on the job about British policing. They
soon learn they are not cut out to handle excitable public disorder in a riotous
set-piece of Keystone Kops-style acrobatic stunt-work matching the unsubtlety
of their character names. (This vibe carried over into their next film where they
indeed meet Mack Sennett’s force of farce). Meanwhile, Karloff’s highbrow Dr Jekyll,
very distingué in grey hair and moustache, whisks away Bruce and Vicky (his
ward) in a carriage ride that allows him time to set out his experimental agenda
in a speech delivered in a single close-up: “It is the less fortunate that I want
to help. If I can find some way to tame that instinct so that it is always
under control -then perhaps we can eliminate bloodshed, violence…” This allowance
for detailed exposition is rare in this type of comedy and the substance must
have been heartening for Karloff even though it is rather plainly written - and
there are clunkier dialogue points to come.
Jekyll’s
depth of pondering on man’s duality is a dead giveaway that he is more than
just idly theorising. His home features a huge underground laboratory complete
with John Dierkes’s hulking mute assistant Batley. Privately Jekyll wrestles
with his conscience, tipping off the audience as to his alter-ego - “the
embodiment of all that’s evil” - but one whose raw power wins out as being the
only way to eliminate the snooping Bruce. The first of Karloff’s two transformations
uses conventional dissolve photography by David S. Horsley to morph his face into
one of the new technology fitted rubber masks rather than the time-consuming facial
prosthetics painstakingly built up when Jack Pierce was in charge. This would
have suited the aging Karloff who had endured more than his fair share of
make-up chair hardships in the past. Bud Westmore and Jack Kevan augment the
bestial element with a porcine snout and fangs to make Hyde resemble a primitive
hog. The heavy disguising by the mask-work also pays off during the demanding
physicality of Hyde’s rampages, replacing both Karloff (and later Costello)
undetectably with stuntmen.
Where the lack
of good comic byplay for the boys becomes glaringly evident is in the scenes following
this where they pursue Karloff’s Hyde into the music-hall backstage area in a
vain attempt to regain their jobs. What was once a frantic trading of Lou’s ‘fraidy-cat
badinage with Bud’s frustrated naysaying in their heyday is now reduced to underpowered
and thin reactions. Both men seem tired and a little disengaged now after all
these years. Even a wax museum sequence only reminds us of their better days:
we see effigies of Dracula and an electrically-animated Frankenstein Monster
coming to life as briefly as comic interest in the film.
Having said
that, as I’ve already intimated, what is comedy’s loss is arguably horror’s gain
as the plot is streamlined by the narrative drive of pursuing Hyde and poor Lou’s
status as a two-time victim of transformational serums. While the boys investigate
Jekyll’s ongoing animal experimentation, including a savagely barking rabbit-dog
hybrid, he drinks a potion that turns his head and hands into those of a mouse.
To save time (and regrettably laughter potential) he simply sports a costume
fur head reminiscent of the Mouse King from The
Nutcracker Suite whilst nibbling at lame cheese-related wisecracks.
It’s a good
thing the action scenes are well-handled as the verbal connective tissue
sometimes hits the floor with a resounding thud. A classic example is Vicky’s
confrontation with her shape-changing guardian (who secretly covets her for
himself): “Henry, is it true you’ve been experimenting with weird drugs that
turn humans into animals?”
Beleaguered Costello
barely has time for pest control before his sits on a hypodermic and turns
himself into a marauding Hyde doppelganger, thus causing confusion to the
cops and, as they say, frightening the horses. At least the fast and furious climax shows off
elaborate set designs from Bernard Herzbrun and Eric Orbom on the ground and above
the rooftops. All is rendered more or less right with the world once Karloff
plunges to his death and a restored Lou reverts back to his innocent self –
though like Meet the Invisible Man it
is capped with a perplexing gag as for some reason the apprehending officers now
chase him off as multiple Hydes!
Overall, Abbott and Costello meet Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde
struggles as schizophrenically as its eponymous horror villain between being a
cultivated horror picture and an unsavoury beast of base comedy.
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