“A VAL LEWTON HI-DEF DOUBLE FEATURE”

By Raymond Benson

Most folks who pay attention to Cinema Retro will likely know who Val Lewton is. For those who don’t… After Orson Welles made Citizen Kane and The Magnificent Ambersons at RKO Radio Pictures and (unwittingly and undeservedly) nearly destroyed the studio, the top brass needed some quick influx of money. They hired producer Val Lewton to “do what Universal was doing and make some horror movies because that genre was profitable!” The only problem was that they gave him practically nothing in terms of a budget to make these films. It was up to Lewton to decide the kind of pictures he would make, who to hire to make them, and so on.

Thus, between 1942 and 1946, with Lewton at the producing helm, RKO released a string of remarkable low-budget frighteners that relied not on expensive makeup or visual effects to scare the audience, but rather carefully executed black and white cinematography, sound, and storylines that left the horror in the viewers’ imaginations. It was the adage—what you don’t see is likely creepier than what you do. And it worked.

Lewton hired talented filmmakers who drew upon German expressionism (and this was the same time that Hollywood was beginning to make low budget crime dramas, later known after the fact as film noir, using the same visual techniques) to create an eerie atmosphere of contrasting dark shadows and light. Add in some spooky sounds (wind, creaking doors, cat screeches, metal garbage cans crashing loudly on a sidewalk) and a sensibility that anything could be lurking around the corner… and you have some truly unnerving motion pictures. We don’t need no stinkin’ monsters!

As illustrated by film historian Imogen Sara Smith in an excellent supplement about the Val Lewton film series, another aspect that made the films creepy was an overwhelming sense of dread and death in all of them. They were nihilistic explorations into the dark abscesses of the human soul. Suicide, murder, depression, and repressed sexuality were common themes in all the titles.

First out of the gate was Cat People (1942, also available on the Criterion Collection), which was a surprise box office hit. French director Jacques Tourneur and cinematographer Nicholas Musuraca established the style and presentation of the Lewton movies with sensitive, canny direction and film noir photography.

I Walked with a Zombie (1943) was next, and it’s this reviewer’s favorite among all the Lewton titles. Loosely inspired by Jane Eyre, it’s one of the earliest Hollywood movies to deal with voodoo in the West Indies. Tourneur also directed, but with J. Roy Hunt as DP. Starring Frances Dee as Betsy, an innocent nurse on a Caribbean island who is hired to care for Jessica (Christine Gordon), the invalid wife of Paul (Tom Conway), a sugar plantation owner. Jessica is near catatonic but wanders silently outdoors at night. Betsy soon learns more about the island’s superstitious beliefs in Vodou and is surprised that even Paul’s mother, Mrs. Rand (Edith Barrett) is a practitioner. It isn’t long before Betsy, who has fallen in love with her employer, encounters the underbelly of the Vodou community and must protect herself and her charge.

Is I Walked with a Zombie “scary”? Well, no, not really, not any more than any of the Lewton horror films. But what it has going for it is style and atmosphere in spades. This is one of the most poetic horror films ever made. It’s a beautifully-rendered, impressionistic tale that is creepy, to be sure, and somewhat shocking (certainly for its time). There is much more happening here than a mere zombie story. The themes of slavery and racism also crop up to make the picture a much more meaningful treatise on the voodoo concept. And it is absolutely gorgeous to look at.

The Seventh Victim (1943) was the fourth Lewton-produced picture, this time directed by Mark Robson, who had been the editor on the first three Lewton titles. Nicholas Musuraca is back as cinematographer, and the pictures would not have been as effective without him. Something of a precursor to Rosemary’s Baby (1968), The Seventh Victim is about a devil-worshipping cult in New York City’s Greenwich Village. Mary (Kim Hunter, in her first film role) is a young student looking for her missing older sister, Jacqueline (Jean Brooks). Her investigation introduces her to Gregory (Hugh Beaumont), who is, surprisingly, married to Jacqueline, Dr. Judd (Tom Conway again), a psychiatrist who had been treating Jacqueline, and poet Jason (Erford Gage), who offers to help in the search. Mary eventually finds the despondent Jacqueline, who expresses the desire to commit suicide. It turns out she is under the influence of the Satan-worshippers, who believe that traitors to their cabal should die preferably by suicide rather than violence.

Apparently, The Seventh Victim went through a drastic post-production phase in which at least four big scenes were deleted. As a result, the storyline in the picture is often incoherent. We can’t help but wonder what the heck is really going on most of the time. But is it “scary”? Again, no, not really, but the film is indeed atmospheric, beautiful to look at, and has a sense of anxiety that keeps one interested until we reach an ending that is, unfortunately, unsatisfying. Nevertheless, Victim tackles unusual themes (watch for the hint of a lesbian relationship between Jacqueline and her best friend, played by Isabel Jewell). It’s a wonder that The Seventh Victim got through the Hays Office with the Production Code seal of approval, considering its unsavory set of villains and a suicide plot.

The Criterion Collection has released a 4K/UHD edition and a Blu-ray edition of both films on a single disk (the 4K/UHD edition includes the Blu-ray disk, which also sports the supplements). The disk features a 4K digital restoration of both films with uncompressed monaural soundtracks. Both pictures look absolutely marvelous, cleaned up, sharp, and pristine. They are a testament to the glory of black and white photography.

The supplements abound. I Walked with a Zombie comes with an audio commentary by authors Kim Newman and Stephen Jones. There is also an audio essay from Adam Roche’s podcast “The Secret History of Hollywood” accompanying the movie.

The Seventh Victim comes with an audio commentary by film historian Steve Haberman, as well as an audio essay from the same Adam Roche’s podcast.

Other supplements include the previously-mentioned interview with Imogen Sara Smith that is an excellent overview of Lewton’s movies and especially the two titles on the disk. The 2005 documentary, Shadows in the Dark: The Val Lewton Legacy, is included in its entirety. There is another audio essay from Adam Roche and his podcast about the casts, crews, and productions of both movies. Excerpts from the PBS series Monstrum on “The Origins of the Zombie” are particularly inviting. Rounding off the package are trailers for both films, English subtitles for the deaf and hard of hearing, and a booklet with essays by critics Chris Fujiwara and Lucy Sante.

Just in time for Halloween, Criterion’s Val Lewton double feature of I Walked with a Zombie and The Seventh Victim comes highly recommended for fans of old horror films and classic Hollywood.

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