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There are remakes and "sort of" remakes, and "huh?" remakes in the film firmament of Hollywood. One such "huh?" remake was one that seemed a sort of sequel to the classic silent horror masterpiece, The Cabinet Of Dr. Caligari. But viewers quickly learned that this "remake" was one in name only. It didn't offer weird artsy sets, murderous sleepwalkers, or even much horror at all. In fact, here at HORROR-WOOD, we have only one question for this flick, and it is...
By DON MANKOWSKI Jane Lindstrom in The Cabinet of Caligari (1962) drives happily through a beautiful countryside. It’s not clear where she’s coming from, where she’s going or why, but she smiles brightly, right up until her car suffers tire blowout. The middle-aged, baby-faced woman is forced to walk to the nearest residence to seek help – and it’s here that things become strange. (Spoilers! Don’t read this if you want to be surprised upon seeing the picture. Really. Yes, this early. Okay, onward with a clear conscience!)
She approaches a sprawling estate, passes through a heavy gate, and knocks. She’s invited in by the man named Caligari. He’s meticulously attired, German-accented, and a bit too polite. Jane will stay the night, at least until her car can be made serviceable. However, the following morning, it becomes clear to Jane that she won’t be allowed to leave. She confronts Caligari. Remaining superficially formal and cordial, Caligari nevertheless questions the woman in a personal manner, and offends her with some pictures that she finds disgusting. (Later, it appears that Caligari is spying on her in her bath!)
That’s how it’s to be for Jane. She’s cared for and treated well, but it’s understood that she isn’t permitted to leave. The grounds have guarded gates and its telephones have locked down dials. The woman meets numerous other guests, all cordial, uncomplaining, poker-faced and just a bit strange in every case. Jane admits to being a prisoner, but never manages to clarify the roles of the other people. She attempts to form an alliance, some alliance, any alliance that will make possible her escape. Unable to make any progress in this direction, Jane is instead pulled deeper into the lives of the other "guests." She seems on the verge of a trusting relationship with Paul, an older man, and of a romantic one with younger Mark – but neither can help her. Paul, who admits to knowing Caligari quite well, offers "Everybody gives orders; it's getting them carried out that's the trick." It’s all rather…maddening.
Ruth, an elderly but very lively woman, offers assistance and Jane is hopeful, but just then she stumbles into another part of the house to find the old woman being brutalized by the others! Jane will continue her plans that go nowhere, until Paul convinces her that she should confront her problem rather than fleeing from it, just as she appears about to. When her last-resort, attempted seduction of Caligari fails, her world comes apart. Her hope, Paul and her nemesis, Caligari, are revealed to be the same man. Jane flees down a nightmare corridor of shocking but relevant imagery.
Awakening, Jane realizes that she’s a mental patient in an institution. The people she has perceived as guests and authorities are in truth fellow patients and medical personnel with her best interests in mind – including Paul. All the events thus far are explained. The brutalization of the old woman was proper shock treatment. The rude questioning was psychoanalysis. The dirty pictures were Rorschach cards. Was she given drugs? Of course she was. Paul informs Jane that she’d in fact lost touch with reality and came seeking help. Their efforts were to bring her back. And indeed, she is now fit to return home. The young man who picks her up for the trip home is named Mark, and appears to be the same fellow she reached out to during the dream. Only it’s her son. Thus does the sly screenwriter haul out old Oedipus to kick a club-footed extra point for him.
And just who is this manipulative screenwriter? It’s Robert Bloch, one of the best known horror-mystery writers. It was Bloch’s novel that was adapted for Alfred Hitchcock’s classic Psycho (1960). Roger Kay was a television director who made only a couple of movies, so one must assume Bloch the major player in this partnership. The film succeeds in casting familiar objects and situations in a skewed light from the very start. The plot is a nice twist. Johnny Craig did it well in "Whirlpool" in The Vault Of Horror #32 in 1953, and it probably wasn’t even original then.
The first, subjective shot is Jane emerging from a tunnel as she drives along the road. Shortly after that, we’ll practically be shouting at her throughout the running time for being too accepting at times, too demanding at others, and always at the wrong time. I told you it was maddening. Bloch boldly borrowed his title from Robert Wiene’s 1919 German silent classic Das Kabinett des Doktor Caligari (The Cabinet Of Dr. Caligari). Some historians regard Wiene’s film as the first true cinematic horror. Though this is hardly a remake, the earlier film did feature a twist ending that scrambled perceptions of reality.
The music is by Gerald Fried. Only recently I had occasion here to praise his work in The Vampire (1957) and Return Of Dracula (1958). This score is a more placid one, with a pleasing use of strings, hopeful, determined or confused as needed. But when shock is the order of the day, he can deliver that as we knew all along. Jane is portrayed by British actress Glynis Johns. You may recall her from a humorous but horrific segment of The Vault Of Horror (1973), but she’s probably best known as the schizophrenic (submissive and suffragette) mother in Disney’s Mary Poppins (1964). Glynis’ father was actor Mervyn Johns, whose treatment in the 1945 classic Dead Of Night prefigures hers in Caligari! Both the warm, grey-haired open-faced Paul and the dark, Satanically bearded Caligari are played by Dan O’Herlihy, who does fool you for, oh, a couple of minutes. A reliable face in films for many decades, he’s done everything from MacDuff to Robinson Crusoe to RoboCop’s boss.
The supporting cast features Estelle Winwood, whose stage and screen career spans six decades, as Ruth. Estelle was a charming old witch in The Magic Sword (1962), and a typically sexy old lady despite being nearly 80 in The Producers (1968). Where’s the cabinet? I don’t see any cabinet! Wiene’s silent Caligari traveled with a big coffin and could summon Cesare the somnambulist out of it to tell your future or to kill you. There are music boxes and candy boxes, but nobody takes anything important out of a box in this film.
I believe that it’s wordplay by the clever Bloch; the "Cabinet," to use the word’s other meaning, is the staff of advisers surrounding Caligari. Jane has to work her way thought these to get to the boss. You have to be determined to appreciate this film. So, do watch it. Then, watch it again and re-interpret the allegory of Jane’s ascent. Great way to pass an afternoon. (Don Mankowski is of sound mind, or rather was prior to beginning analysis of this perplexing flick. You have been warned, but maybe you’ll still visit his modest Web page.) Thanks, Don. No doubt, writer Robert Bloch was trying to bring some deep psychological themes to this flick, but, unfortunately, Twentieth Century Fox chose to market this as a horror exploiter, so it meant lots of filmgoers were disappointed with the relative lack of horror and shocks in the film. As a result, it died pretty quickly at the box office. But it's certainly an interesting, if ultimately frustrating film, though not one for the folks who like their horror suspense flicks pretty much cut and dried. Article copyright © Don Mankowski |
