Rationale for Inclusion:

Given that Ewan McGregor has been playing Obi-Won Kenobi in live-action Star Wars media off and on since 1999, would anyone under 30 years-old be able to place Alec Guinness by me saying, "You know, Obi-Won Kenobi in Star Wars?" To Millennials and older geeks this lack of cultural touchstone would hurt our brains, but the knighted, most accomplished character and dramatic actor himself would be relieved that Star Wars (Star Wars: Episode IV: A New Hope, Dir. George Lucas, 1977, USA) may not be what he is remembered most for in 2024, as it was not his favorite role despite the financial stability it enabled for him. Granted, I don't know what other example of Guinness' filmography I would use for someone under 30 who doesn't attend classic cinema film festivals. Star Wars is still better known than Lawrence of Arabia (Dir. David Lean, 1962, UK) or Kind Hearts and Coronets (Dir. Robert Hamer, 1949, UK) by the mainstream populus of the United States.

I begin on this note because this week's film, The Man in the White Suit (Dir. Alexander Mackendrick, 1951, UK), stars Sir Alec Guinness in a comedic role, which while not unusual for him, especially in the 1950s, is not the work for which the mainstream consciousness most remembers him. A chance to witness more of Guinness' incredible range was part of the reason for selecting this film, as was the fact that the last British sci-fi satire that we watched for the survey, Once in a New Moon (Dir. Anthony Kimmins, 1935, UK), has been one of the great discoveries by my partner and I on this cinematic journey thus far. Plus, according to the British Film Institute, The Man in the White Suit is the 58th greatest film to come out of its country.

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Being familiar with Guinness' dramatic work, it came as no surprise to me or my partner that the actor turned in a brilliant performance as Sidney Stratton, a research chemist bent on creating an indestructible fiber. The number of lab explosions and subterfuge Stratton undertakes gives his comedic timing ample opportunities to shine.

The emphasis on chemistry led to the inclusion of the "Guggle Glub Gurgle" song to accompany the chemicals burbling, moving and bubbling. My partner and I assumed that it must have been the work of the BBC Radiophonic Workshop, who created the music and sound effects for Doctor Who and both the radio and television versions of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. To our surprise, the experimental and pioneering electronic music and sound production company was not formed until 1958; 7 years after the release of The Man in the White Suit. Instead, the creative composition was created by sampling sounds made by actual equipment, which may make it the most widely heard example of musique concrète.

The slapstick humor transitions more into satire when Stratton successfully completes the first batch of his indestructible, radioactive fiber, and makes it into the suit of the title. The viability of cloth that does not stain or wear out causes a panic amongst everyone from capitalists, to textile workers, to little old ladies who take in others' washing for a bit of money. The economy and culture would be upended by it in a way that was too massive for people to handle. Luckily for the conservative minded, a flaw in the formula causes the cloth to gradually break down over a few weeks. With Stratton's firing, the threat seems to be neutralized. Except, Stratton has a revelation whilst looking at his formula notes, and at the end strides off, presumably to seek out a means of creating a second version of the indestructible cloth.

Stratton continues the tradition of the mad scientist, but instead of upending morals and religion like his predecessors, he upends capitalism and commerce. Given the post-World War II industrial boom many countries experienced, and the Cold War being configured on communist versus capitalist lines, it's an evolution keeping with the times in which the film was created. He is nevertheless just as antisocial and obsessive as his predecessors Henry Jekyll and Victor Frankenstein.

He also carries on the mad scientist tradition of experimenting on himself by wearing a suit made of his indestructible fiber. Stratton is not merely daily driving his cloth, the way new products are tested for their practicality, because the fiber includes radioactive elements. The long term damage of radiation exposure through patent medicines containing radioactive elements and working with radioluminescent paints was known by the 1930s. It is entirely possible that Stratton could have developed a version of the formula where the cloth would not deteriorate, but the person wearing it would do so horrifically. At that point his cloth would not only be a direct economic threat, but a direct threat to public health.

Rationale for Inclusion:

As may be evident by the way I gush over James Whale's films, I am a huge fan of classical era Hollywood horror films. Imagine my delight when I learned that icons of 1930s horror Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi appeared together in not one, but seven films, plus a joint cameo appearance. Seeking out these films is what eventually led me to The Invisible Ray (Dir. Lambert Hillyer, 1936, USA).

The Invisible Ray was the third time Karloff and Lugosi were paired together, not counting their cameo in Gift of Gab (Dir. Karl Freund, 1934, USA). Something I appreciate if you watch the films in chronological order is the horror stars alternating who's the baddie and who's the victimized colleague. Karloff tormented Lugosi in The Black Cat (Dir. Edgar G. Ulmer, 1934, USA), Lugosi tortures Karloff in The Raven (Dir. Lew Landers, 1935, USA), and in The Invisible Ray Karloff's antisocial Dr. Janos Rukh finds himself at odds with or dependent upon Lugosi's Dr. Felix Benet. 

As can be surmised from both characters having the title of "doctor," The Invisible Ray like Frankenstein (Dir. James Whale, 1931, USA), Island of Lost Souls (Dir. Erle C. Kenton, 1932, USA), and the other mad scientist films thus far surveyed straddles the line between science fiction and horror. Since better examples of the archetype exist, I would have skipped over The Invisible Ray were it not for the film's plot revolving around a new kind of radiation from the element Radium X. An atomic sci-fi film almost two decades before they became the genre norm absolutely needed to be included in this survey.

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Rewatching The Invisible Ray last year as part of a mini chronological survey of 1930s horror, I summed up the movie on microblogging sites as, "Boris Karloff's antisocial scientist pursues Radium X research to the point of self-destruction, but makes the mess he made of his reputation and relationships everyone else's problem." In retrospect, I could just as easily have described the plot with the "instead of going to therapy" meme.

As an early example of atomic sci-fi it presents the extremes that society associated with radiation and radium at the time: Radium X could be a cure-all that benefits society, or deadly poison. Janos Rukh, who previously studied astronomy in an isolated castle with only his mother (Violet Kemble Cooper) and young wife (Frances Drake), the daughter of his former associate, for company, ends up so irradiated whilst investigating the African meteor site source of Radium X that any living creature he touches instantly dies of radiation. His colleague Felix Benet helps Rukh develop a serum to keep the accumulated radiation from cooking him to death, but regular doses must be taken to prevent Rukh from killing himself or others.

In theory, having delayed death, Rukh should be able to continue his life and research without issue. Except all his time away from his wife Diana has alienated her onus based affections, which Rukh takes as a betrayal. Similarly, Benet building upon Rukh's research to develop Radium X into a blindness cure also strikes the irradiated scientist as a betrayal, despite Benet being sure to credit Rukh's work that led to the process. At this point Rukh fakes his own death and starts using his radiation powers to murder off everyone associated with the Radium X African expedition.

While near the end it is implied radiation sickness led to Rukh becoming a serial killer, at the climax his mother shows up to remind him that he was always not of the temperament to live outside of isolation. At which point he agrees with his mother and lets himself cook to death. The Invisible Ray serves up not only an example of an early atomic monster, but that being a mama's boy is tied with being a murderer. (For more on the latter see the filmography of Alfred Hitchcock.)

I typically try to avoid plot synopses in these posts, but the way radiation is shown to have a dual nature in The Invisible Ray makes it stand out compared to other mad scientist and atomic sci-fi. Typically whatever invention a mad scientist is working on comes from good intentions, only to prove disastrous for anyone who comes in contact with it. Radium X being both a cure and danger simultaneously is novel by comparison, and a less reactionary take than atomic sci-fi films made post-atom bomb. 

Apart from the novelty of its attitude towards atomic energy, The Invisible Ray is overall forgettable and not very good as a film. Better atomic sci-fi films would follow, and better pairings of Karloff and Lugosi had been made before it and would be made after it (in the latter case specifically Son of Frankenstein (Dir. Rowland V. Lee, 1939, USA) and The Body Snatcher (Dir. Robert Wise, 1945, USA)).

Rationale for Inclusion:

In looking over a list of science fiction films of the 1940s, most of the feature films were more horror than sci-fi: sequels to Universal Horror movies, dipped more into fantasy than science fiction, and/or re-hashes of the core story of Frankenstein. Narratives where science fiction didn't come conjoined with horror were mostly found in serials, like the Buck Rogers and Flash Gordon serials discussed last week. Across all formats, the mad scientist remained the mainstay of the genre.

Representative of this decade sci-fi cinema is this week's film, Dr. Cyclops (Dir. Ernest B. Schoedsack, 1940, USA). Mad scientist? Check. Horror paired with science fiction? Check.

On a technical level, however, Dr. Cyclops is a standout. It was the first science fiction film ever shot in 3-strip "glorious" Technicolor and one of the first sci-fi films to be nominated for a Best Special Effects Academy Award. These characteristics made it stand out and secure a spot on this survey. 

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On a technical level, Dr. Cyclops did not disappoint. The Technicolor was vivid without being over the top, and my partner and I were both surprised by the quality of the visual effects. It was the first time on the survey where we found ourselves going "Oh, the effects are good" with no caveats, including but not limited to "for the era." Black and white cinematography can cover up a lot of sins when it comes to visual effects work, so the fact that we had this reaction to a color film was all the more notable to us.

An aspect of the film that took us by surprise, but in retrospect really should have been more obvious was how much of the film was based on the cyclops episode from Homer's Odyssey. The name "Dr. Cyclops" should have been a dead giveaway, but cyclopses are mythological creatures that existed prior to Homer's epic poem chronicling Odysseus's fraught trip home from the Trojan war, and their name has been applied to various works, characters, and vehicles without invoking the story of Polyphemus. Nevertheless, it wasn't until the bespectacled Dr. Thorkel (Albert Dekker) uses his experimental shrink ray on a group of unsuspecting scientists, and traps them in his lab, did the allusion sink in. Like Odysseus and his crew, despite their disadvantage in size, the scientists must use their cunning to blind their poorly visioned captor and escape. 

I was also amused to note that since Dr. Thorkel's shrink ray is powered by radium it means that, like The Invisible Ray (Dir. Lambert Hillyer, 1936, USA), Dr. Cyclops is a pre-Atomic Age atomic sci-fi film. Labeling a film as being "atomic sci-fi" will rapidly lose its novelty once we get to movies made during the Cold War, which is why I find examples of atomic energy figuring in science fiction narratives made prior to the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in 1945 fascinating.

It also had not occurred to me until later that Dr. Cyclops would be the first film of this survey to deal with characters being miniaturized or shrinking. Using the survey as an excuse to watch The Incredible Shrinking Man (Dir. Jack Arnold, 1957, USA) and Fantastic Voyage (Dir. Richard Fleischer, 1966, USA) had occurred to me, but had I been thinking about shrinking people as a recurring sci-fi narrative, as I did killer brains, robots, and devolution, I would have included The Devil-Doll (Dir. Tod Browning, 1936, USA) in the survey too.