Halloween at FilmPhiles...: The Devil Doll (1936): The movie that puts the horrible in horror!

Just the description of it is enough to scare a person out of his wits! Here are some of the salient features: Devil’s Island Prison Camp in French Guyana, harrowing escape from said prison camp, central character played by an aging silent movie star who died before the film was released, wife of this character wears her hair in a modified Bride of Frankenstein do, an incredible shrinking St. Bernard dog, an incredible shrinking circus horse, an incredible shrinking woman, an incredible shrinking man, incredible shrunken people become the subjects of mind control by a wrongly convicted man bent on vengeance, and, saving the best for last, Lionel Barrymore in drag!

Are you scared yet?

Cast:
Lionel Barrymore ... Paul Lavond
Maureen O'Sullivan ... Lorraine Lavond
Frank Lawton ... Toto
Rafaela Ottiano ... Malita
Robert Greig ... Emil Coulvet
Lucy Beaumont ... Madame Lavond
Henry B. Walthall ... Marcel
Grace Ford ... Lachna
Pedro de Cordoba ... Charles Matin
Arthur Hohl ... Victor Radin
Juanita Quigley ... Marguerite Coulvet
Claire Du Brey ... Madame Coulvet (as Claire du Brey)
Rollo Lloyd ... Detective Maurice
E. Alyn Warren ... Commissioner of Police

Directed by

Tod Browning (uncredited)

Writing credits
Garrett Fort (screenplay) &
Guy Endore (screenplay) and
Erich von Stroheim (screenplay) (as Eric Von Stroheim)
Tod Browning (story)

Abraham Merritt (novel "Burn Witch Burn")

Richard Schayer contributor to dialogue (uncredited)

Produced by
Tod Browning .... producer
E.J. Mannix .... producer (uncredited)

Original Music by
Franz Waxman (musical score)
Edward Ward (uncredited)

Cinematography by
Leonard Smith (photographed by)

Film Editing by
Fredrick Y. Smith

Art Direction by
Cedric Gibbons

Paul Lavond (Lionel Barrymore) has been wrongly convicted of embezzlement from his bank, on the false testimony of his former partners, the true guilty parties. Lavond is sentenced to life imprisonment on Devil’s Island, while his wife and daughter languish in poverty, ostracized as the result of the scandal. After seventeen years, he engineers an escape, in the company of his friend, Emil Coulvet. They make their way to Coulvet’s old home, where they find his wife, Malita, of the BoF do, waiting to continue Emil’s research into the miniaturization of living things.

The experiments are progressing nicely when Emil dies of an apparent heart attack. Paul agrees to join Malita in carrying on Emil’s work; however, Paul has his own agenda, to put it mildly. Paul re-invents himself as a little old lady who owns a toy shop, where real toys are marketed, as a cover to place some of the “living” toys, controlled by Paul’s mind, into the homes of his former partners.

Up to this time, we see Paul as motivated purely by the burning hatred he feels toward is former partners, and his desire to avenge himself. However, we learn that Paul has hopes of re-uniting with his now grown daughter, who hates his memory, and is an orphan, because Paul’s wife passed away while he was in prison. The outlook for a reunion is unfavorable, especially after Paul’s “dolls” engage in a few assassinations, but a man who escaped Devil’s Island does not give up easily.

One would think that this incredible and convoluted plot would not hold the viewer’s interest, but the quality of the screenplay, the performances, the cinematography (excellent special effects for the time), all set in Franz Waxman’s wonderful score, make for an engaging and eerie viewing experience.

The Raven

The Raven
by Edgar Allan Poe
(published 1845)

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door-
Only this, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;- vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow- sorrow for the lost Lenore-
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door-
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;-
This it is, and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"- here I opened wide the door;-
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"-
Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice:
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore-
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;-
'Tis the wind and nothing more!"

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door-
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door-
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore-
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning- little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door-
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered- not a feather then he fluttered-
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before-
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore-
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never- nevermore'."

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore-
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee- by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite- respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted-
On this home by Horror haunted- tell me truly, I implore-
Is there- is there balm in Gilead?- tell me- tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us- by that God we both adore-
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend," I shrieked, upstarting-
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted- nevermore!

4 comments:

ClassicBeckyOctober 19, 2009 at 4:00 PM
Great post, Noiree! Lionel Barrymore in drag was something to see! I haven't seen this movie in a long time and will have to pull it out of my collection for another viewing during this Halloween month.
SilentfilmfanaticOctober 21, 2009 at 4:19 AM
Noiree, I saw this film a couple of years ago on TCM. It is very creepy. I am glad that you pointed out that Todd Browning directed and produced this film; he was a master of the horror genre. Henry B. Walthall must be the aging silent movie star who died before the film was released. Excellent post!
NoireeOctober 21, 2009 at 5:48 AM
Silent, I did not have time to do any research on Todd Browning; however, his being a master of the horror genre would certainly explain why this movie is so effective. What a great association we have here, where one can learn even from the comments on his or her own post!

Thanks to both of you ladies for the kind words.
Ph4nt0mPl4n3tOctober 31, 2011 at 6:40 PM
Watched this flick on TCM yesterday. Weird, creepy, and entertaining all at the same time. It was a nice switch-up to my overdose on AMC's direct-to-video marathon this Halloween. Remarkably, all of the 75 year old film's effects were at least passable, some, like the over-sized sets were downright impressive. Worth the watch... and for Todd Browning fans a must see.

Halloween at FilmPhiles...

The Devil Doll (1936): The movie that puts the horrible in horror!

4 comments:

Where Can I See It?

Blog Archive

The Raven