Halloween Harvest --- Part One --- Claude Rains' Penny Dreadfuls

The bane of certain serious actors was horror movies, even as others surrendered to them. I recall somewhere Basil Rathbone labeling his Son Of Frankenstein a "penny dreadful," and am further told he ignored it in memoirs. According to David Skal's fine Claude Rains bio, the actor turned down Son's lead before Rathbone accepted. Were horror pics indeed a scourge to players we now revere for having appeared in them? More to the point, would there be a Claude Rains book or addictive Basil Rathbone webpage had these two not become so associated with monster shows? I've read with much amusement the story of boys who saw shooting of 1963's The Comedy Of Terrors and met an inhospitable Rathbone, who fairly blanched at the sight of a Famous Monsters magazine they'd brought along. Vincent Price could groove with horror boomers and indulge their childish interest, but such for Rathbone was equivalent to garlic and a crucifix to vampires, his association with the genre strictly one maintained for cash (and little of that).

1933 Ad for The Invisible Man's Broadway Opening

Here's a 1933 Ad That Allows a Glimpse of Claude Rains As
a Visible Man

Claude Rains "protested" fright flicks in late '58 remarks to The Vancouver Sun, that sheet exploring corrosive effect of "horror for horror's sake." Referred to as "a character actor of undisputed standing in practically all types of film," Rains took off on scare merchant's "unabashed appeal to the sick tendencies in modern society, which they hope to titillate at a profit." There was "no attempt at any kind of artistry," according to CR, no effort to "light up blind alleys in contemporary society." 1958 was admittedly a bad year to champion monsters, famous or otherwise, so far as responsible adults felt. The cheaper creepers were a cancer in theatres and lately on television, where release, or better put, avalanche, of horror had put rotting of juvenile minds on a fast track.

Had Rains by this time been shown a copy of Forry Ackerman's infamous rag, that celebration of all things abhorrent to maturity and sober reflection on society's "blind alleys"? Surely one or two misguided kids nearby Claude's New England retreat sought the Invisible Man's autograph after a late teevee serve (these almost continuous by the late 50's). Would this actor of undisputed standing, though admittedly less in demand, agree to do The Lost World or Battle Of The Worlds for anything other than cash sorely needed? Maybe it was Famous Monsters and Shock Theatre to large extent that kept Rains and Rathbone in groceries during late and leaner years when chill parts became most of what they were offered. Rathbone yielded to Nicholson/Arkoff blandishment to be in AIP thrillers --- was Claude Rains approached as well?

Universal's Blu-Rains-fall of monster classics naturally highlight Karloff and Lugosi for iconic input to the brand, but there's as much of Claude here as either of them, him arguably the titan what bestrides this initial slate of High-Def shockers. In fact, his three were among first of the eight I watched, my regard for Rains having only grown since mature discovery of great work he did in things other than horror. The Invisible Man was sold less as a chiller than a trick sensation, sort of latter-day George Mêliés, but way more sophisticated. I watched Rains this time closer than ever (and that's close as in every fiber, thanks to miraculous Uni clean-up), there being every evidence that he studied, or was at least inspired, by Lon Chaney's opera Phantom of eight years before. That seminal work had to have left deep impression on players who'd later do masked roles and rely on gesturing to put across drama. What Rains achieves with gloved hands alone was surely highlight of a marvel enactment, this in addition to his mellifluous voice.

Could you blame us for associating Rains with horror movies? His presence in them went beyond The Invisible Man, The Wolf Man, and 1943's Phantom Of The Opera. There was also, prominently in the "Shock!" package, The Mystery Of Edwin Drood, which played TV by force of station contract as often as higher-profile horrors, a category to which a drooping Drood never properly belonged in any case. Another with Rains did not even arrive to television until Screen Gems' lease on Universal chillers expired and MCA re-grouped the features in 1972 (77 which included not only pre-48 titles, but assorted weirdies from the 50's). This was The Man Who Reclaimed His Head (1934), certainly a title with horrific potential, but not otherwise a fit within the genre. (As regards the "Special Rubber Matinee" at left, wonder how many "kiddies" raided Dad's bedroom drawers to get the "one pound" needed for admission)

The Wolf Man Hits Chicago, with Homemade Art and an "Adults Only" Warning.
Note Too That Bela Lugosi Gets Sole Billing Above The Title

Phantom Gets Its First Chicago Run, With
a Universal "B" Musical To Share The Ride

The Wolf Man revolved around Lon Chaney's lycanthropic ordeal, but Claude Rains was the best acting aspect of it. Was this slumming to his mind? First billing was assured, though monster kid-dom would not accord such for later (and late night) broadcasts that invariably mentioned Chaney and Bela Lugosi first. There are some who don't rank The Wolf Man so high in any event, at least not upon a pantheon with the 30's classics, but imagine if a Cedric Hardwicke or Otto Kruger had played Sir John Talbot. Good as these were, results would not have been near what's achieved with Rains in the part. The Wolf Man is prime example of one great actor carrying the ball to a score from which all of an ensemble benefit. I, for one, can't imagine this show without him.

Exploitation's siren call would have put Lon Chaney, Jr. in his father's immortal role for Universal's 1943 re-go at Phantom Of The Opera, but this was not to be a mere shock-serving to kids and sub-billing. It was instead a full-out assault on a carriage trade normally disdainful of what they considered genre foolishness. To get round such prejudice, this Phantom had to be lush and lovely, its emphasis not on fiends and fright, but elegant trappings and music (lots). Toward that end would come top-billed Nelson Eddy from prestige of MGM operetta casting, also Technicolor unknown to thrill subjects other that Paramount's oddball of a Dr. Cyclops in 1940. Claude Rains was very much a statured name as well, despite a past in horror, though he was known best to general audiences for mainstream King's Row, Now, Voyager, and other success out of Warners. To third-bill him here, and beneath teen-age and largely untried Susanna Foster, was reflection of how Rains would occupy back seat to elements Universal pushed harder to distance their Phantom from mere monsters otherwise sold as discount lots.

Says The Original Universal Caption: Lon Chaney, enacting the role of "the monster" in Universal's new chiller drama, "Ghost Of Frankenstein," visits the "Phantom Of The Opera" set where the late Lon Chaney, Sr. scored his memorable performance hit, and with the aid of trick photography, the two notable artists are framed in the same field.

Still, it was Rains back at chilling, and he was effective as ever at it, his voice an instrument more powerful than shriek/baritone enacted by Foster/Eddy. It was essentially The Invisible Man again, that a likeliest reason for Universal's casting of him, and I'd like to think he got a largest so-far payday for Phantom'ing. What Rains' Invisible Man did for bandages, this  would do for a mask, that last a beauteous creation (I want one for Halloween!) that CL was said to have fussed endlessly over. We do see more of his face behind that mask than was revealed of Chaney's, probably the reason why this Phantom was not nearly so disfigured as in the '25 issue. All kinds of reasons have been tendered for restraint applied to Rains' Phantom make-up, but I'd aver a primary one was simply the actor wanting to leave an expressive mouth and jaw exposed to confirm it was truly him darting in and out of the overproduced show's second half.