Editorials
‘Fear the Invisible Man’ and the Importance of Public Domain Monsters
Some movie monsters have become so ubiquitous in popular culture that they feel more like omnipresent myths than characters from specific stories. Ask any young child and they’ll probably recognize Frankenstein and Dracula without ever having touched a Stoker or Shelley novel, with these characters inhabiting our collective imagination through what can only be described as cultural osmosis. This natural process obviously goes against the corporate interests of studios like Universal, and that’s why the company continues to invest millions of dollars into licensing deals in order to keep their monster movies in the spotlight as the “definitive” versions of these stories.
While it’s only fair that creators should get to monetize their hard work, corporations turning creativity into a business has resulted in a media landscape that favors brands instead of ideas. I was recently reminded of this weaponization of intellectual property when I watched the trailer for Paul Dudbridge’s Fear the Invisible Man, a low-budget rendition of H.G. Wells’ classic story that many internet commenters were unfairly likening to a mockbuster when compared to the recent Invisible Man remake.
And in a world where modern bogeymen are copyrighted and virally marketed instead of being shared organically like they used to be, I think this might be a good time to discuss the importance of public domain monster movies like Dudbridge’s passionate little adaptation. After all, not everything has to be part of an interconnected franchise – and multiple versions of the same ideas can be a good thing if they’re coming from unique voices.
The precise definition of public domain varies from country to country, but these days it’s mostly accepted that the term refers to a collection of creative work that no longer belongs to any specific person or company. While ancient Rome already had laws protecting certain universal concepts from ownership, modern copyright has its roots in the invention of the printing press, with early publishers wanting to keep rivals from simply reprinting existing books. This legal oversight eventually led to creators being able to secure a living from their work, something that continues today in several mediums.
When it comes to monsters, the more the merrier!
But what does this have to do with monster movies? Well, humankind has been sharing horror stories since time immemorial, and these stories and their respective monsters change as they’re retold by different artists. Go back far enough and werewolves and vampires have their roots in the same flesh-eating creatures, and we’re likely to spawn even stranger legends a few centuries from now. This constant evolution is a huge part of what makes horror so appealing in the first place (like how zombies have been resignified to represent everything from capitalism to fear of disease over the years), but an unhealthy prejudice against public domain scares can get in the way of that.
I mean, if it wasn’t for Night of the Living Dead accidentally entering the public domain, zombie movies would probably have become a Romero-specific specialty instead of an all-out genre. If you think about it, there’s no telling how many potential classics we’ve been robbed of because of pesky copyright laws. While Jason Voorhees is still limited by legal complications, older characters like Dracula are still going strong even after being portrayed by a hundred different actors over the course of a century (with impressive fan-films like Never Hike Alone further suggesting that big studios aren’t the only ones that can do these characters justice).
I’m obviously not about to suggest that horror filmmakers descend into anarchy and start ignoring copyright laws altogether (though it’s worth remembering that one of the most faithful adaptations of Dracula was made without the author’s consent), but I think it’s worth celebrating when lesser-known artists can tackle the same material as big studios in unique and creative ways.
After all, these shared narratives also serve to fuel the next generation of horror by giving up-and-coming storytellers a solid base to borrow from without fear of repercussion. We wouldn’t have the Hulk without The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and Frankenstein was already in the public domain by the time James Whale brought the story to the big screen back in 1931.
Does the existence of Nosferatu make Dracula any less iconic?
While the natural lifecycle of these creations has been unnaturally extended by companies like Disney (who continue to bargain for longer copyright terms), even Universal’s iconic monsters are set to enter the public domain alongside their source material during the next decade or so. With that in mind, maybe it’s time for horror fans to embrace off-brand monsters instead of searching for a definitive version.
If Guillermo del Toro can win an Academy Award for his off-brand take on The Creature from the Black Lagoon, then I think it’s okay for indie filmmakers to come up with their own interpretations of these classic monsters without fear of being rejected by the horror community simply because they don’t fit in with the established “canon.”
At the end of the day, Dudbridge’s Fear the Invisible Man is by no means a masterpiece, lacking the pathos of the original story and the carefully crafted thrills of the more recent iteration, but I’m glad that this strange little project can co-exist with its big-budget cousin if only to remind audiences that H.G. Well’s iconic creation belongs to everyone – not just Universal Studios. Hell, if it were up to me, we’d be seeing generic Invisible Man spin-offs harkening back to Universal’s original set of comedy and spy thriller sequels from the 1940s.
Companies will always worry about genericization leading to a loss of brand identity, but it’s exactly this freedom that allows a monster movie (or any other kind of media, for that matter) to become a bona fide legend. And as a lifelong horror fan, I can’t wait to see what kind of fresh terrors the next generation of storytellers will come up with next if they’re allowed to reuse and iterate on what came before.
Fear the Invisible Man is available now on VOD outlets.
The penultimate season of Tales from the Crypt (1989–1996) aired its first three episodes on October 31, so it’s understandable that at least one of those three stories is set on Halloween.
Sandwiched between “Let the Punishment Fit the Crime” (Russell Mulcahy, Ron Finley) and “Whirlpool” (Mick Garris, A. L. Katz & Gilbert Adler) is the most severe episode of the bunch. Maybe the entire series? William Malone and Dick Beebe’s “Only Skin Deep” traded the show’s typical sense of fun for startling amounts of bleakness and kink.
“Only Skin Deep” is, apart from the Crypt Keeper’s intro and outro, noticeably unfunny. There are no considerable attempts at making the viewer laugh. Come to think of it, if those bookends had been replaced, and there was more of a sci-fi element in the story, HBO could have easily squeezed this tale into that successor anthology, Perversions of Science (1997). In Crypt, though, “Only Skin Deep” is much too grim for an audience that had become accustomed to campiness and levity.
What makes “Only Skin Deep” feel dark, among other things, is its protagonist. Showing up to a Halloween party where he’s not welcome, and where his former girlfriend (Diane DiLasco) is attending, Carl Schlag (Peter Onorati) first comes across as your standard bitter ex. You soon realize it’s much worse than that, once Carl threatens Linda (“You know, silly me, thinking I gave you what you deserved. If I’d have done that, I’d have killed you”). Now, I haven’t forgotten that Tales from the Crypt was teeming with vile men who did women harm. Yet Carl’s brand of misogynistic menace hits differently—it borders on being too realistic for this kind of series.
Mike Vosburg’s EC-style comic cover for “Only Skin Deep”, as seen in the Tales from the Crypt episode.
Despite donning a party mask for much of the episode, Carl can’t ever mask his true nature. The invitation did say “come as you are”, after all. That inability to change and be better, however, is why Carl ends up in such a karmic predicament. His outburst of anger at the party attracts the attention of one loner partygoer named Molly (Sherrie Rose, who was also in Season Four’s “On a Deadman’s Chest”). Her bone-white, featureless “mask” and body-bag costume don’t initially register as too strange, especially on a night like this. But at a party chock-full of colorful, cartoonish, and lighthearted ensembles, it does look out of place.
Darkness attracts darkness as Carl ditches the party and accompanies the mysterious Molly to her place. Which, by the way, should have been an immediate red flag. But perhaps she’s so hot, he doesn’t seem to mind the serial killer aesthetic. Resembling a warehouse that has been converted into living spaces, but never then decorated to remove the cold, industrial look, Molly’s home (or lair) is as gloomy as this whole episode feels. It’s like the set of a grungy music video, albeit a tad cleaner. The environments in a typical Crypt episode tend to be small, overfilled, and broken-in. Warm, regardless of any weird goings-on. All that empty space in Molly’s hovel, on the other hand, elicits a creepy feeling that Carl was unwise to ignore.
Tales from the Crypt featured more sex than it didn’t, but hands down, “Only Skin Deep” boasts the steamiest scene in the show’s history. Pushing it over the line, in addition to Onorati showing bare buns and the camera never turning down one of his pelvic thrusts, is the twisted dirty talk. Carl stays in the moment, whereas Molly unleashes charged lines like “the hurt, the anger, give it to me” and “take it out on my flesh like you want to”. It’s all quite kinky, as well as tied into the story’s theme of pain.
How else “Only Skin Deep” differs from other episodes is its twists. Or rather, its lack thereof. Nothing comes as a great surprise here, particularly because the deuteragonist’s ulterior motives are so obvious. By no means is Molly a wolf in sheep’s clothing; her face is a fright mask, she practically reeks of death, and she lives in what can best be described as a serial killer’s hideout. That last-act revelation of Molly’s mask really being her face is also nothing shocking. Cleverness is certainly not this episode’s strength.
A page from “…Only Skin Deep!”, as seen in EC Comics’ Tales from the Crypt.
While “Only Skin Deep” isn’t the most universally loved episode of Tales from the Crypt, it’s an interesting preview of William Malone’s future as a director. Most notably, he went on to helm House on Haunted Hill (1999) and FeardotCom (2002), the former of which was co-written by Dick Beebe, this episode’s writer. Dark Castle Entertainment, that genre house founded by Crypt producers Joel Silver, Robert Zemeckis, and Gilbert Adler, was instrumental in bringing out Malone’s gruesome, over-the-top vision in House on Haunted Hill. However, FeardotCom and Malone’s Masters of Horror episode, “Fair-Haired Child”, are the most stylistically compatible with “Only Skin Deep”.
As one might guess, this episode is nothing like its source material. The “…Only Skin Deep!” found in the pages of EC Comics is set during Mardi Gras in New Orleans, and save for its last couple of pages, is pretty sweet in nature. There, a man named Herbert is enamored with a woman he met five years prior to the present-day story. Every year, he has come down to Mardi Gras to see Suzanne, who’s always dressed as a hag-faced witch. Well, this time, Herbert plans on popping the question and marrying someone who is, for the most part, a total stranger. Suzanne accepts his proposal, but with one condition: they stay in costume until they’re officially hitched. You can probably see where this is going…
Once they are married, Suzanne remains incognito, even when she and Herbert have consummated their vows. A semi-predictive nightmare then rattles Herbert; he dreamt that Suzanne’s real face was as wizened as her mask. Finally, in his haste to find out the truth, Herbert winds up killing his new wife. Faceless and well on her way to bleeding out, the dying Suzanne manages to say she never wore a mask.
For more traditional EC-style ghastliness, your best bet is reading the comic. It’s wickedly sad. For something less conventional, as far as Tales from the Crypt goes, the role-reversing adaptation is worth watching. It’s not the best this show had to offer, although Malone’s visual style, plus the sexual abandon, does set the episode apart. If nothing else, “Only Skin Deep” leaves an impression that, even years later, shows no signs of fading.
Season Six of Tales from the Crypt can be streamed on Shudder, starting on June 5.
Tales from Tales from the Crypt celebrates the show’s Shudder premiere by singling out one episode from each season. So don’t even think about changing that dial, boys and ghouls. More spot-“frights” are to come.
Carl discovers Molly’s collection of human ‘masks’ in the Tales from the Crypt episode, “Only Skin Deep”.
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