The Invisible Man (1933)

The Invisible Man (1933)

Directed by James Whale

Screenplay by R.C. Sheriff, based on the novel by H. G. Wells

Runtime: 1 hr, 11 min

Watching The Invisible Man, or rather writing my review of it, reminded me of an excerpt from Plato’s Republic, regarding the Ring of Gyges.  The ring gives the wearer the power of invisibility, and this legend segues into a discussion of whether man would be virtuous if he could then do evil without fear of repercussion.  I have no idea if the filmmakers or original novelist H. G. Wells had this tale in mind in crafting the story, but I do think the basic premise weighs heavily on the 1933 film adaptation.

Claude Rains, making his American screen debut, stars the title character, otherwise known as Jack Griffin.  Griffin is the scientist who meddles in things in which man should not be meddling.  Specifically, he has found a way to become completely invisible, and he heads off to a country inn to work on the antidote.  What he doesn’t realize is that a drug in the concoction has been found to cause madness, and he’s clearly fallen victim.  Griffin becomes fixated on causing chaos, using his powers of invisibility to bring the entire world to its knees.

Rains has become one of my favorite actors over the years, and he does not disappoint here.  While it is a bit unsettling that the audience does not get to see him act, his voice-over work is still top notch.  His intonations alternate between a refined, determined pacing and the ramblings of a man losing his grip on sanity.  Note how in one of his interactions with his lover Flora (Gloria Stuart), he begins by rationally describing what inspired him to work on invisibility—fame, fortune, legacy—but slowly descends into impassioned screaming that he’s able to conquer the world.

That sequence is emblematic of the tensions contained within the film.  For one, how exactly does one read Griffin as a character?  On the one hand, he seems to be a devoted scientist who just gets over his head, and legitimately wants an antidote so he can share his new discovery with the world.  Then again, even before the madness fully sets in, he’s left Flora without a word of explanation and is pretty rude to the innkeepers.  We don’t get the benefit of facial expressions, so all that’s available is his dialogue and motivations.

Yet perhaps that’s intentional.  So little can be determined about Griffin because of his invisibility, which more or less enables one to project onto him as a character.  One could easily live out a power fantasy through the character, or see him as the personification of the darkness of man set loose on a country village.  He’s an open-ended character, which is one of the film’s biggest strengths.  (It’s also why the final shot of the film, in which the invisibility wears off, is a bit problematic—it undermines the notion that Griffin is defined as “the invisible man”).

Further tensions can be found in the tone of the movie.  The Invisible Man manages to expertly balance the requisite horror movie elements with anarchic, slapstick comedy.  The film juxtaposes Griffin promising to kill his partner and colleague, Dr. Kemp (William Harrigan), with a scene in which Griffin messes with the cops and skips down a back road—wearing one fht officer’s pants—singing “Nuts in May”.  It’s as if they come out of two different films, in a good way, which complicates the meaning of the movie.

Is the audience supposed to find such mayhem to be enjoyable, frolicking fun, an escape from the rules of civil society?  Or do Griffin’s comedic acts in fact inspire terror that one could find glee in causing train derailments?   By positioning horror elements next to comedic ones, the film present a scenario where the repressed desire to do ill with impunity is placed directly on screen, and almost dares the viewer to not get engaged with the terroristic merriment.  Enticing as it is, it is also horrifying in its implications for the morality of man.

Furthermore, the special effects used to create the illusion of invisibility, which are stunning by the standards of early 1930s technology, may contribute to the wish fulfillment that the film presents.  The clarity and seamlessness of Griffin’s reveal of his power contrasts sharply with his exterior appearance whilst invisible: face covered in bandages with dark glasses and artificial nose.  His exterior is repulsive and immediately frightens onlookers, but his form as Invisible Man is sleek and state-of-the-art.  Who could resist entering stripping naked and wreaking havoc with that sort of transition?

As I write this review, I feel that I may seem a touch hypocritical, considering that two weeks ago I trashed Slightly Dangerous for its blatant wish fulfillment.  But I think the difference is in presentation.  The Invisible Man is meant to be enticing in its depictions of evil; how else could one get a semi-sympathetic protagonist?  But this is ultimately a horror story, and Griffin’s reign of terror over England is depicted in exactly those terms.  There’s a distinct message at work: in this universe, at least, evil does indeed lurk in the hearts of men.  But oh, how tempting it is.