I’ve mentioned my love of silent horror in the past, so it’s always exciting when I discover a “new” silent horror film I’ve either never heard of, or only been marginally aware of. Such is the case of “The Cat and the Canary”. For most of my life I always knew that it existed and instantly recognized the more famous clips of it seen on TV (the grotesque hands slowly creeping out from behind a secret passage), however, I always recognized it as “that movie” and never knew what it was called. A documentary about Universal Horror often-repeated on the Chiller network set me straight not long ago, so I made it a priority to procure a copy of “The Cat and the Canary”. I have to say that it is definitely one of the more elaborately filmed silent horror movies I’ve seen and easily one of the most clever.
After the millionaire lunatic Cyrus West finally kicks the bucket, he leaves his old spooky mansion and vast fortune to a single heir, not to be revealed until twenty years after his demise. Two decades pass and his greedy relatives gather at his haunted digs, at midnight, for the reading of his will. Annabelle (Laura La Pante), the only genuinely nice member of the West family, inherits the fortune, though in order to keep it, she’ll have to spend the night in the house of horrors, surrounded by her leering, money-hungry relatives who’d just love to bump her off and be next in line for the fortune. Making matters worse, an escaped madman has been seen roaming the grounds, slipping in and out of secret passages within the mansion and snatching up whoever lets their guard down. Will Annabelle make it through the night?
All this movie needed was a talking dog and it could have been called “Scooby-Doo”. Seriously, “The Cat and the Canary”, based on a stage play by John Willard, is the progenitor of pretty much everything you recognize from silly mystery films and cartoons. A huge, creepy mansion on a dark and stormy night, the reading of an old man’s will, a bunch of suspicious relatives, one of whom is prowling around in a ridiculous disguise, just trying to scare everyone off so he can collect the fortune for himself. I’m reluctant to call these “clichés” in regards to this film, though, since “The Cat and the Canary” is where all these clichés came from.
Still, like I said before, if you’ve ever seen an episode of “Scooby-Doo” or even other similar horror films like “The Old Dark House” or “The House on Haunted Hill”, then you know this story inside and out and might even run the risk of getting bored (especially if you aren’t into silent films). But if the story doesn’t thrill you, then what’s really attractive about “The Cat and the Canary” is Director Paul Leni’s cinematography and truly clever use of perspective and visual overlays, to say nothing of the masterfully sinister and foreboding set design.
A fan of the German Expressionist style (“Nosferatu”, “The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari”), Leni pretty much filmed “The Cat and the Canary” as a love letter to it, creating a bizarre yet not too bizarre masterpiece of the genre. The moment the film starts, you get a glimpse of Leni’s crazy use of perspective, as we see the action from the point of view of the clawed villain, opening a safe and messing with Cyrus West’s will. In one of the weirder moments, the camera takes on the POV of a gloomy painting of Cyrus West as it falls off the wall, startling all the relatives in the room. I think my favorite use of the trick, though, comes when Leni drops the audience into the POV of Cyrus West’s supposed “ghost” as it lurks the endless corridors of the mansion, down long hallways lined with broken windows as tattered drapes flail in the wind. It’s a familiar sight, ripped-off ad nauseum by horror films over the decades, but it wouldn’t be so ripped-off if it wasn’t awesome, now would it?
Leni also uses transparent overlays to maximum effect, creating surreal visuals to illustrate madness (the senile Cyrus West believing he’s being besieged by a pack of ravenous cats) or just some darkly humorous moments (the cowardly Paul Jones, played by Creighton Hale, hearing about a strange disappearance and immediately imagining a chattering skull next to his head). I think one of the best uses was to show the inner workings of a grandfather clock, as the hammers strike the coils to create the chimes. You can’t actually hear the sound, obviously, since this is a silent film, but the image is enough to create the illusion in your mind (and does a far better job of it than if Leni had, say, just shown a shot of the clock and then a text card reading, “The clock chimed midnight”).
If there was anything wrong with “The Cat and the Canary”, I guess it’s that it feels twice as long as it actually is. The thing may only clock in at eighty-five minutes, but it felt like it went on for two-hundred. The attempts at comedy don’t always hit their mark and some gags tend to stretch a bit, such as Paul hiding under the bed as the female occupants of the room undress. Only a handful of the relatives have any unique character and they end up with the most screentime. The dullest ones sort of just disappear from the movie for a while. Incidentally, the reveal of whodunit happens be one of those under-utilized relatives, which sort of comes off as a cheat. The villain’s disguise is also absolutely hilarious in its absurdity and I don’t know if that was intentional or not (Lon Chaney aside, makeup effects in the twenties weren’t too great).
“The Cat and the Canary” may be predictable, but that’s only because you’ve probably seen it parodied a couple hundred times over the years. This is the real deal, though, and if the story doesn’t grab you then the visuals (and the big hairy claws reaching out from the walls) most certainly will. It’s a beautiful movie with a tried and true formula, making it one of the best pieces of silent horror I’ve ever seen. I’d highly recommend picking up a copy of Image Entertainment’s 2004 fully-restored DVD. Well-worth it.
Grade: A- (as in, “And I would’ve gotten away with it, too, if it weren’t for you meddling kids!”)
After the millionaire lunatic Cyrus West finally kicks the bucket, he leaves his old spooky mansion and vast fortune to a single heir, not to be revealed until twenty years after his demise. Two decades pass and his greedy relatives gather at his haunted digs, at midnight, for the reading of his will. Annabelle (Laura La Pante), the only genuinely nice member of the West family, inherits the fortune, though in order to keep it, she’ll have to spend the night in the house of horrors, surrounded by her leering, money-hungry relatives who’d just love to bump her off and be next in line for the fortune. Making matters worse, an escaped madman has been seen roaming the grounds, slipping in and out of secret passages within the mansion and snatching up whoever lets their guard down. Will Annabelle make it through the night?
All this movie needed was a talking dog and it could have been called “Scooby-Doo”. Seriously, “The Cat and the Canary”, based on a stage play by John Willard, is the progenitor of pretty much everything you recognize from silly mystery films and cartoons. A huge, creepy mansion on a dark and stormy night, the reading of an old man’s will, a bunch of suspicious relatives, one of whom is prowling around in a ridiculous disguise, just trying to scare everyone off so he can collect the fortune for himself. I’m reluctant to call these “clichés” in regards to this film, though, since “The Cat and the Canary” is where all these clichés came from.
Still, like I said before, if you’ve ever seen an episode of “Scooby-Doo” or even other similar horror films like “The Old Dark House” or “The House on Haunted Hill”, then you know this story inside and out and might even run the risk of getting bored (especially if you aren’t into silent films). But if the story doesn’t thrill you, then what’s really attractive about “The Cat and the Canary” is Director Paul Leni’s cinematography and truly clever use of perspective and visual overlays, to say nothing of the masterfully sinister and foreboding set design.
A fan of the German Expressionist style (“Nosferatu”, “The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari”), Leni pretty much filmed “The Cat and the Canary” as a love letter to it, creating a bizarre yet not too bizarre masterpiece of the genre. The moment the film starts, you get a glimpse of Leni’s crazy use of perspective, as we see the action from the point of view of the clawed villain, opening a safe and messing with Cyrus West’s will. In one of the weirder moments, the camera takes on the POV of a gloomy painting of Cyrus West as it falls off the wall, startling all the relatives in the room. I think my favorite use of the trick, though, comes when Leni drops the audience into the POV of Cyrus West’s supposed “ghost” as it lurks the endless corridors of the mansion, down long hallways lined with broken windows as tattered drapes flail in the wind. It’s a familiar sight, ripped-off ad nauseum by horror films over the decades, but it wouldn’t be so ripped-off if it wasn’t awesome, now would it?
Leni also uses transparent overlays to maximum effect, creating surreal visuals to illustrate madness (the senile Cyrus West believing he’s being besieged by a pack of ravenous cats) or just some darkly humorous moments (the cowardly Paul Jones, played by Creighton Hale, hearing about a strange disappearance and immediately imagining a chattering skull next to his head). I think one of the best uses was to show the inner workings of a grandfather clock, as the hammers strike the coils to create the chimes. You can’t actually hear the sound, obviously, since this is a silent film, but the image is enough to create the illusion in your mind (and does a far better job of it than if Leni had, say, just shown a shot of the clock and then a text card reading, “The clock chimed midnight”).
If there was anything wrong with “The Cat and the Canary”, I guess it’s that it feels twice as long as it actually is. The thing may only clock in at eighty-five minutes, but it felt like it went on for two-hundred. The attempts at comedy don’t always hit their mark and some gags tend to stretch a bit, such as Paul hiding under the bed as the female occupants of the room undress. Only a handful of the relatives have any unique character and they end up with the most screentime. The dullest ones sort of just disappear from the movie for a while. Incidentally, the reveal of whodunit happens be one of those under-utilized relatives, which sort of comes off as a cheat. The villain’s disguise is also absolutely hilarious in its absurdity and I don’t know if that was intentional or not (Lon Chaney aside, makeup effects in the twenties weren’t too great).
“The Cat and the Canary” may be predictable, but that’s only because you’ve probably seen it parodied a couple hundred times over the years. This is the real deal, though, and if the story doesn’t grab you then the visuals (and the big hairy claws reaching out from the walls) most certainly will. It’s a beautiful movie with a tried and true formula, making it one of the best pieces of silent horror I’ve ever seen. I’d highly recommend picking up a copy of Image Entertainment’s 2004 fully-restored DVD. Well-worth it.
Grade: A- (as in, “And I would’ve gotten away with it, too, if it weren’t for you meddling kids!”)
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