The Black cat (1934)

The Story: A honeymooning couple become pawns in the ultimate confrontation between two old enemies.

Like many Edgar Allan Poe film adaptations, The Black Cat bears little or no resemblance to the story of the same name, despite the "suggested by" credit given to Poe during the opening credits. As in the case of the Corman/AIP films, though, the misnomer is easily forgiven as we are treated to a fine story that is brilliantly realized by an outstanding cast and crew.

Genre legend Bela Lugosi gives perhaps the best performance of his career as Dr. Vitus Verdegast, a recently released WWI prisoner en route to visiting an "old friend", as he explains to fellow travelers Peter and Joan Alison (played by genre regular David Manners and prolific thirties star Jacqueline Wells).

A freak bus accident results in Peter and Joan being forced to accompany Verdegast to his friend's residence, which is an amazing Bauhausian art deco masterpiece composed of glass, steel and mirrors built on the scene of a WWI battle that killed thousands. There we meet Verdegast's friend, Hjalmar Poelzig, portrayed by consummate professional Boris Karloff, and looking eerie in black robe, Mephistophelean hair cut and fine make-up by an un-credited Jack Pierce.

As it turns out, Verdegast somewhat exaggerated his friendship with Poelzig. In fact, Verdegast is out for revenge against Poelzig, who had caused Verdegast's imprisonment in order to steal away and marry his wife, and, later, his daughter. Verdegast's attempts to discover the fate of his family are complicated by the presence of the innocently unaware young couple who have accompanied him, as Poelzig is a Satanic High Priest who not only has wicked plans for Joan, but also has some muscle behind him in the form of cult members that include John Carradine.

Eventually the arch-enemies agree to settle their differences by means of a literal and figurative game of chess, with Joan's life (and, one suspects, her honor) as the prize.

The Black Cat is pretty clearly a film ahead of it's time, and it's no surprise director Ulmer cut his teeth with F.W. Murnau, who brought as the equally anachronistic Nosferatu. The use of striking geometrical themes ranging from the odd interior of a train's passenger car to the design of the sinks in Poelzig's bizarre home are a credit to both set designer Charles Hall and Ulmer himself, who was heavily involved in the designs. The disquieting feeling provided by the sets is added to by a score consisting mostly of Liszt, Tchaikovsky, and (naturally!) Bach's Toccata. Subtext is abundant for those who seek it, in both a physical sense (such as the recurring use of lilies) as well as the story itself, which subtlety explores a black magic versus science theme.

Had The Black Cat been released a year later, it would certainly have been fallen prey to the standards codes that were then implemented. Amazingly mature for it's time, the movie features a man being skinned alive, strong sexual overtones and a black mass complete with an inverted crucifix, though the intensity of the latter may be lost somewhat when we realize the ominous sounding Latin of Karloff translates to things like "beware of dog" and "take a grain of salt".

The real highlight of the film, of course, is the first on-screen pairing of Karloff and Lugosi, the two horror movie giants of not only the thirties, but perhaps all time as well. As one would expect, Karloff plays his role expertly, generating an almost palatable feeling of malevolence, particularly as his designs on Joan seem to become less than gentlemanly. It's Lugosi who's the real surprise here, bringing an intensity to his role that easily dwarfs his better known performances; Lugosi's talent in general may be questionable, but he certainly had the magic here. Both actor's dialogue seems to have been written for them, and the scenes of them verbally sparring are as memorable as they are brilliant.

Only a few minor points keep The Black Cat from reaching the levels of perfection attained by films like The Bride of Frankenstein. There are some rather obvious holes in the plot, such as the question of why the young couple don't simply run away when they realize evil is afoot. And in a constant error made by films from this period, comic relief is provided by the (thankfully brief) appearance of two inept policemen.

The good vastly outweighs the bad, though, making The Black Cat an absolute must-see for fans of classic horror movies, as well as those who appreciate the fine art of filmmaking in general.