The only thing differentiating this film from a Loony Tunes cartoon starring Daffy Duck and Professor Jekyll, actually, is the music. Instead of being by Carl Stalling, it's a horrible neo-Romantic hodge-podge of Tchaikovsky (Romeo and Juliet Overture, I ask you!), Schubert, Liszt and other Classic Pops. It even has Karloff, as the mad scientist, playing Bach's Toccata and Fugue at the organ for good measure, at a crucial moment, which must already have been a hoary film cliché, even in 1934.
With the plot's melodramatics skidding in constant overdrive, it's hard to decide whether one is being subjected to a shabby little shocker or to an embarrassment of cinematic riches. One clue to the whole set-up is in the ritualistic Latin incantation used by Karloff during the Black Mass he celebrates in the medieval dungeon of his ultra-modernistic castle: it's a mixture of Latin expressions cobbled together, straight from the dictionary, one of which is "cum grano salis", which translates, you guessed it, as "with a grain of salt"...
Otherwise, this film has everything horror fans crave: the young adorable honeymooning Brad-and-Janet-type American couple seeking refuge from the rain and a car accident in a strange castle in the middle of the night in backwoods Hungary, Bela Lugosi as an unsettling traveling companion, Karloff as the weird host (sporting a hairstyle half-way between a pompadour and a flat-top, that would not be seen again until the German "The Third Sex" in 1957), partial to black cats - the only link to the Edgar Allen Poe story - and embalming his mistresses in lifelike poses inside glass cages, like Bluebeard, stalwart man-servants with their own capillary peculiarities that appear to remain on duty at all times (and to sleep standing up in corridors), ultra-modern architecture that eerily foreshadows the sterility of 1950s "Home & Garden" interiors, secret chambers, house foundations resting on a dynamite cache, sliding doors, an early intercom system, spiral staircases, the already-mentioned organ, expressionistic lighting, breast pawing, suggested incest, murder, torture, etc. There's just no end to the wonders of this film. The vices on display run the entire alphabetic gamut from adultery to zoocide, by way of satanism, although if I was Satan, I'd ask to have my name removed from the credits, if only to preserve my highbrow image...
And it all fits neatly in 65 little compact minutes. In the last analysis, it's fascinating to watch Universal's horror stars turning on each other with such unbridled ferocity and playing along with this campy joke while keeping a straight face at all times.
This film is now available on DVD as part of a Bela Lugosi boxset that mostly stars Boris Karloff - his way of getting even, I guess. Another film in the collection, "The Raven", also stars Lugosi and Karloff duking it out, and is just as un-"Poe"-etic as "The Black Cat", despite its title. It also manages to use the Romeo and Juliet Overture to disastrous effect.
With the plot's melodramatics skidding in constant overdrive, it's hard to decide whether one is being subjected to a shabby little shocker or to an embarrassment of cinematic riches. One clue to the whole set-up is in the ritualistic Latin incantation used by Karloff during the Black Mass he celebrates in the medieval dungeon of his ultra-modernistic castle: it's a mixture of Latin expressions cobbled together, straight from the dictionary, one of which is "cum grano salis", which translates, you guessed it, as "with a grain of salt"...
Otherwise, this film has everything horror fans crave: the young adorable honeymooning Brad-and-Janet-type American couple seeking refuge from the rain and a car accident in a strange castle in the middle of the night in backwoods Hungary, Bela Lugosi as an unsettling traveling companion, Karloff as the weird host (sporting a hairstyle half-way between a pompadour and a flat-top, that would not be seen again until the German "The Third Sex" in 1957), partial to black cats - the only link to the Edgar Allen Poe story - and embalming his mistresses in lifelike poses inside glass cages, like Bluebeard, stalwart man-servants with their own capillary peculiarities that appear to remain on duty at all times (and to sleep standing up in corridors), ultra-modern architecture that eerily foreshadows the sterility of 1950s "Home & Garden" interiors, secret chambers, house foundations resting on a dynamite cache, sliding doors, an early intercom system, spiral staircases, the already-mentioned organ, expressionistic lighting, breast pawing, suggested incest, murder, torture, etc. There's just no end to the wonders of this film. The vices on display run the entire alphabetic gamut from adultery to zoocide, by way of satanism, although if I was Satan, I'd ask to have my name removed from the credits, if only to preserve my highbrow image...
And it all fits neatly in 65 little compact minutes. In the last analysis, it's fascinating to watch Universal's horror stars turning on each other with such unbridled ferocity and playing along with this campy joke while keeping a straight face at all times.
This film is now available on DVD as part of a Bela Lugosi boxset that mostly stars Boris Karloff - his way of getting even, I guess. Another film in the collection, "The Raven", also stars Lugosi and Karloff duking it out, and is just as un-"Poe"-etic as "The Black Cat", despite its title. It also manages to use the Romeo and Juliet Overture to disastrous effect.