Editorials
The Man Behind Frankenstein’s Monster: Boris Karloff
In the wake of the recent announcement of Universal and Blumhouse developing an Invisible Man movie with Leigh Whannell at the helm, talk has begun anew of Universal’s Classic Monsters’ revival. It only makes sense to revisit the original films and the horror icons that made them so enduring, and even more fitting to begin with one of the most memorable screen horror icons, Boris Karloff. Known above all as Frankenstein’s monster, Karloff was a prolific actor and horror mainstay behind countless memorable horror movie roles spanning decades.
Born William Henry Pratt on November 23, 1887, Boris Karloff is actually a stage name he created during his work in theatre. Once he made his way to Hollywood, he racked up 80 film credits, from silent films to westerns and everything in between, before director James Whale cast him as Frankenstein’s monster in 1931’s Frankenstein – a role Bela Lugosi had passed on when he realized the lengthy makeup process involved. Between the makeup designed by Jack P. Pierce, the four-inch platform boots, and the back brace, Karloff was unrecognizable and his performance devoid of dialogue. Marketing left his name off the billing in promotional materials, and a question mark was used in place of his name in the opening credits. In other words, no one expected Frankenstein to launch Karloff into stardom the way that it did. He was 43 at the time.
The following year he reteamed with Whale for The Old Dark House, a horror comedy about five travelers trapped in a creepy Gothic mansion for a night due to a storm. Wry humor meets atmosphere, Karloff played Morgan, the mute butler who gets a bit mean when he drinks. He was given top billing at the titular character in MGM’s The Mask of Fu Manchu, and then played the mummy Imhotep in The Mummy, another hit for Universal that solidified Karloff’s stardom. Though he had parts in non-horror films, horror had officially become his primary genre of work. He also appeared in Universal Classic Monster films The Black Cat, The Raven, The Invisible Ray, Night Key, Son of Frankenstein, Tower of London, and reteamed with Whale in Bride of Frankenstein throughout the ‘30s.
In 1944’s monster crossover film The House of Frankenstein, Karloff got to play the villainous mad doctor instead of the creature. Most of his horror work in the ‘40s, though, were for RKO Pictures under producer Val Lewton: The Body Snatcher, based on Robert Louis Stevenson’s short story, Isle of the Dead, and Bedlam. In the aftermath of World War II, horror’s popularity waned and thus Karloff’s work in horror during the ‘40s was also light.
Luckily, horror exploded again in the ‘50s, and with it came roles in The Strange Door, The Black Castle, Abbott and Costello Meet Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, The Island Monster, Voodoo Island, Corridors of Blood, and more. The ‘60s began with The Terror, The Raven, and most notably Mario Bava’s Black Sabbath, an anthology that saw Karloff introducing the various tales as well as being featured in the vampire segment “The Wurdalak”.
He voiced the role of Baron Boris von Frankenstein in stop-motion animated Mad Monster Party?, and the Grinch in How the Grinch Stole Christmas!, which ensured that Karloff became an iconic presence for both Halloween and Christmas. There was also no shortage of roles for Karloff when it came to playing occult professors and scientists, notably in The Sorcerers, Alien Terror and Die, Monster, Die! But one of his best, and most overlooked performances was among the last in his long career- that of aging horror film star Byron Orlok in 1968’s Targets, a meta horror film that sees Orlok on a collision course with a crazed sniper when he agrees to one final public appearance at a drive-in theater.
When Karloff passed away at the age of 81 on February 2, 1969, he had 207 acting credits under his belt. It’s an impressive feat all his own, but even more so when considering that the age at which he played Frankenstein’s monster and the heavy lifting the role required of him seriously injured his back and surgery later on. The arduous makeup process for Frankenstein and The Mummy gave Karloff plenty of time to reflect on safe working conditions, leading him to become one of the founding members of the Screen Actors Guild. His work in horror, the humanity he imbued in his monsters, his legendary iconic characters, and his passion for acting still makes him one of Hollywood’s greatest giants, even today.
While we can’t wait to see what Whannell brings with a new take on The Invisible Man, it also seems apt to look back and salute the original grandfathers of horror, too.
College kids, strippers and vampires—those were Donald P. Borchers’ only requirements when he approached Richard Wenk about writing and directing a movie for New World Pictures. As requested, Wenk cooked up Vamp (1986), a tailor-made blend of the decade’s teen movie craze as well as its horror boom.
Grim and earnest stories were still very much a part of the ’80s horror landscape, yet Vamp is something of a comedy. One difference between it and, say, Saturday the 14th, though, is the former avoids using schtick. Wenk’s movie proves that horror comedies also don’t have to subtract thrills from their recipes. Of course, it takes a minute before reaching that point; college antics and culture shocks preface this one macabre misadventure.
Vamp‘s initial setup is apt for a typical college-set, sex-driven comedy; to bribe their way into a fraternity house, two pledges (Chris Makepeace, Robert Rusler) go looking for some adult entertainment. Without wasting time on any further exposition, the characters embark on an all-in-one-night trip that quickly detours into terror.
To procure their elusive MacGuffin—a stripper willing to gyrate for some frat boys—Keith (Makepeace) and AJ (Rusler), plus a third wheel named Duncan (Gedee Watanabe), trade the safety of their remote college campus for the seediness of some unnamed city. The setting is recognizably L.A. by day, but as soon as night falls, downtown, along with the characters, slips into a kind of surreal universe. Director of photography Elliot Davis gave this early entry on his prolific résumé an unusual yet distinctive look; that Mario Bava-esque, magenta-green lighting is omnipresent, so much so that it’s almost its own character.
Chris Makepeace and Robert Rusler in Vamp
The faint comparisons to Martin Scorsese’s After Hours are merited, although not just because of Vamp’s distinguishing nighttime aesthetic. Save for the primary characters, the supporting roles in Wenk’s movie are also quite colorful and transactional in their behavior. The difference here, though, is the additional urge to ruin Keith and his friends at every turn. Some of that harm is humorous and tolerable enough, whereas the moment Vamp dishes out its first fatality, it’s abundantly clear how this movie qualifies as horror.
Vamp falls into that category of horror movie that reveals its genre with a scream rather than a series of whispers. The opening scene can function as a hint of what lies ahead—things are not at all what they appear to be—but otherwise, Wenk is more than happy to hold off on the horror. When that time does come, though, it catches the viewer off guard. In addition to the pure shock value is that sudden decision to upend the movie’s foremost feature. Or so it would seem.
If afraid of major spoilage, those new to Vamp would be wise to stop reading here. There’s just no skirting around the fact that the central fellowship in this buddy movie hits a serious snag when AJ is killed. That development causes the story to become more of a “long, bad night” journey for Keith and his romantic interest. So while Wenk scores points for subverting expectations, there is also a touch of sadness in his decision. Because if Vamp does anything well, it’s making the characters likable.
Something that comes easily to Vamp—and other teen horror movies from this same era—is its ability to invent young characters worth caring about, or at the very least, are interesting and not so immediately off-putting. More impressive is how Wenk did all this without actually fleshing out those characters. Still and all, Keith and his kind are a grade above cookie-cutter, and in some cases, aren’t completely devoid of growth.
Grace Jones in Vamp
Vamp appeals with an assorted cast of characters. No two are the same, nor are they operating on the same wavelength. The cinematically extroverted AJ, whose actor conveyed charm and vulnerability in near equal amounts, comes alive when he’s at his most undead. Makepeace then makes the chronically cautious Keith a sympathetic fellow, even as he’s more and more affected by the night’s bizarre events. Meanwhile, Duncan is indeed the designated loser of the whole bunch, but Watanabe still manages to humanize him. As a bonus, the role didn’t require him to pull a Long Duk Dong.
As for Dedee Pfeiffer, she is plain adorable as the mysterious After Dark server nicknamed “Amaretto”. She spends all night fixing her dress strap while at the same time trying to get Keith to remember how he knows her. As their offbeat romance grows, it becomes another highlight of this movie. Whether or not Pfeiffer’s character is really a vampire also creates some welcome tension in the story.
Like a lot of its contemporaries, Vamp went on to become a bit of a cult classic. That current status is determined by several factors, but without a doubt, the casting of Grace Jones is the most considerable. The image of her writhing on that unique-looking chair, a Keith Haring original, springs to mind whenever this movie is brought up.
Chris Makepeace, Billy Drago and Paunita Nichols in Vamp
Prior to that first display of unequivocal horror, local vampire queen Katrina (Jones) took to the stage and delivered a strip show like no other. One would expect nothing less from that renowned model and performance artist. By now reports of Jones’ tardiness on set are no secret, yet it’s also hard to deny her commitment to the part of Katrina. It was, in fact, Jones who took charge of her character’s appearance—on top of Haring painting her body and that now-iconic chair, she had Andy Warhol handle her costuming. And not too many actors could seize a room’s attention without saying a single line of dialogue.
In 2022, Vamp received a retrospective novelization from Encyclopocalypse. This literary union of preexisting source material—Wenk’s original screenplay—and new ideas from author Christian Francis amounts to a more comprehensive visit to the After Dark Club. The basic story there is no different than what’s shown on screen; however, Francis gets creative with the characters’ origins and designs, and he enhances a number of key scenes.
The novelization expands on the urban and social decay of the main setting, and supplies a background for the After Dark Club. Sandy Baron’s character, Katrina’s emcee and familiar, is given ample motivation for sticking around; up until the fiery end, he is loyal to his friend and former business partner “Squeak”, who looks like he was “fed through a combine harvester, and left as nothing more than a heap of mangled remains”. Then there is Billy Drago’s character Snow, the leader of a street gang called The Dragons. His reason for menacing Keith and AJ is more altruistic than in the movie; he and his peers act tough to scare off any potential food for the vampires.
Lisa Lyon in Vamp
If not for all the backstories, Francis’ Vamp would be a hell of a lot shorter. Instead, this tie-in read dives into how AJ met Keith—the orphaned Anthony Joseph hailed from a broken home back in Brooklyn—and how their friendship flourished over the years. Keith’s archership is no longer just an assumed part of his entire being; it’s a confidence-building extracurricular for a boy who got picked on before coming into the protection of the new kid in town. These supplemental, in-depth looks at the protagonists, plus their close connection, are maybe unnecessary. The movie already did a fair and concise job of addressing their platonic intimacy without the need for flashbacks and insights, specifically in that scene where AJ lays it all out as he sacrifices himself.
Where the novelization gets off course is its approach to the minor characters. Intermittently backstorying the likes of Katrina’s indentured servants, Seko (Leila Hee Olsen) and Vlad (Brad Logan), ends up disturbing the flow of the writing. Was it absolutely essential that readers know Vlad was the Grand Duke of the House of Romanov, or how Snow’s accomplice Maven (Paunita Nichols) became so dentally challenged? No, not really. However, one’s mileage with these random biographies may vary.
The novelization is a more substantial experience, but for a movie like Vamp, less is more. And as plentiful as they are, it never simply coasts on its campy charms, either. The character work sits comfortably in that realm between cursory and meticulous, the script is sharper than first realized, and Greg Cannom’s vampire makeup is straightforward yet effective. Most of all, the movie didn’t squander its out-of-the-box concept. Richard Wenk made his vision of a “comic nightmare in which just about anything that can go wrong does” come true, and it is very enjoyable.
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