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Variety, February 16, 1932

Murders in the Rue Morgue (1932)

Universal production and release. Bela Lugosi and Sidney Fox featured. Directed by Robert Florey. Based on Edgar Allan Poe’s story. Scenario by Tom Reed and Dale Van Every; dialog by John Huston; Karl Freund, photog. At the Mayfair, New York, starting Feb. 10. Running time, 60 minutes.

"Dracula" and "Frankenstein" having softened ‘em up, this third of U’s baby-searing cycle won’t have the benefit of shocking them stiff, and then making them talk about it. Had it come first there’s no doubt it would have created a stronger impression. But it thrills sufficiently in its hokey, gruesome way and being by nature receptive to dynamite exploiting, should land moderately well.

But Edgar Allan Poe wouldn’t recognize his story. They dropped everything but the gorilla killer and the title, completely changed the characters, motives and developments and mixed up the whole affair to the limit. In place of the cool detective whose calculating method was the model for the Sherlock Holmeses and Arsene Lupins that followed, this version’s hero is a young medical student who mixes romance with science.

The cast’s other scientist, a looney (sic) Dr. Mirakle played in Bela Lugosi’s customary fantastic manner, is an evolution bug who seeks to prove a vague fact by mixing the blood of his captive gorilla with that of Parisian women. The murders — three real and one almost — are results of his fiendish transfusions.

To make things warmer, the blood injection angle isn’t exposed until a good number of feet have unwound. Until then, it can be easily assumed by any auditor that the doc’s idea is to mate the women with the ape. But nobody can prove it, or bluntly declare that to be the purpose.

First meeting of the young medico and his sweetheart with Dr. Mirakle and his caged gorilla occurs at the doc’s sideshow. The brute snatches the girl’s bonnet and from then on by intimation it’s shown that the gorilla desires her. Meanwhile Mirakle carries on his experiments with other female victims, three of whom are found in the river. But he’s always building up to the experiment with the med student’s sweetheart.

The girl is captured when the animal scales the wall of her dwelling, murders the girl’s mother and drags the former to his master. But when the Dr. attempts the transfusion, the gorilla crosses him, breaks his neck and scrambles off with the woman. A chase over the rooftops, with the hero, police and a crowd following in the street below, concludes with the shooting of the gorilla by the hero and the saving of the girl — just as she’s slipping down the gabled roof toward the river.

At the Mayfair a cynical audience hooted the final hokum, but away from Broadway the chase and its finish shouldn’t meet such hard-boiled resistance. The clever staging makes it seem not too phoney (sic).

Some biz in a morgue, the death of a woman in the doctor’s laboratory, and a view of the girl’s mother stuffed feet first up a chimney are the chief horror sequences, but not too objectionable in treatment. The chimney stuffing has but little significance in this scenario, whereas in the Poe original it was the hub around which the murder mystery revolved. But it serves as an illustration of who this story was almost 100% rewritten by the studio. The real threat and most shivery illusion is the constant possibility of the gorilla capturing the girl.

Several switches from the real gorilla to a costume double are neatly veiled. Playing could have been better in a few cases, especially in the femme lead. Sidney Fox overdraws the sweet ingenue to the point of nearly distracting an audience from any fear it might have for her. Most likely the greatest possible contrast was sought between the gigantic gorilla and the frail, defenseless girl, but it might have been more compelling if not so broadly painted. Leon Wycoff is behind a moustache and underneath a large brimmed skimmer most of the time in the hero part.

Although it probably won’t make any difference to audiences, a brief insert for comedy relief purposes is technically out of order. The time is 1845, but the high-wheeled bike that drives across the sheet in a street scene is of a type that wasn’t introduced until about 20 years later. As long as the picture industry spends so much on the technical end, it ought to be better infoed (sic).

copyright © 1932 Variety