Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

Fredric March shines in this early screen version of the enduring Robert Louis Stevenson story which explores the duality in all of us. Dr. Henry Jekyll (March) is a scientist advancing such an idea which doesn't sit well with his peers. Naturally, when he dares to pursue such heretical fancies he will pay a price: his Mr. Hyde is an ugly brute who completely gives in to all of mans' basest impulses, and this gets him in deeper and deeper trouble. When watching this adaptation, one can hardly fail to notice the style and innovation brought to the camera work, the editing, and the scene transitions, as we get an early version of what's come to be known as split screen. The film even begins with what we know as the subjective camera technique where we see things from a characters' perspective, in this case Dr. Jekyll, and it's at least a couple of minutes before we switch to an objective view. The Expressionist cinematography was done by Karl Struss. The way that the transformation scenes are done would be revisited in such later films as "The Wolf Man", and the convincing makeup is done by Wally Westmore, an under-rated and overlooked makeup effects man from this period whose work can also be seen in "Island of Lost Souls". Director Rouben Mamoulian and the screenwriters, Samuel Hoffenstein and Percy Heath, are able to inject their material with a ripe amount of sex, as this was done in the pre-Code days. Musical performer and actress Miriam Hopkins shows quite a bit of leg, for one thing. And in scenes where she must contend with the beastly Hyde, there's an undeniable amount of uncomfortable sexual tension. The actors are all superb, and it's very noteworthy that March should have won a Best Actor Academy Award for his performance(s) as it's not that often the Academy acknowledges horror films for this aspect. March is believable every step of the way; when he's Jekyll you can't help but like him, when he's Hyde he just creeps you out. Hopkins is equal parts touching and saucy, and Rose Hobart is appealing as Jekylls' bride to be Muriel. Holmes Herbert, Halliwell Hobbes, Edgar Norton, and Tempe Pigott comprise the rest of the solid supporting players. With all of this going for it, the '31 production of "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" is worthy viewing for fans of the classic black & white horror films who want to discover the kinds of things that filmmakers could get away with before the Code started stifling their creative efforts. This story has of course been done many times since, but this would be the ideal adaptation with which to start. It's available on a flipper disc from Warner Bros. that pairs it with the 1941 version starring Spencer Tracy, so one can have an interesting time comparing the two films. Seven out of 10.

Robert Louis Stevenson's classic tale of split personality has been filmed before in 1920 with John Barrymore and in 1941 with Spencer Tracy, but Rouben Mamoulian's expressionist 1931 version stands head and shoulders above the rest. First of all, you have Fredric March, whose tour-de-force performance as the good-natured Jekyll and the monstrous Hyde earned him the Best Actor Oscar. Second, the camera work by Karl Struss brilliantly captures the mood of the story. And lastly, the transformation sequences set an enormous precedent for the later monster movies. It all blends together to form one of most amazing horror movies of the 1930's. Even today, it still has the power to mesmerize and send chills down the spine of even the most hardened horror fan.

An exceptional cast and intelligent direction seals the quality of the first 'talkie' version of Robert Louis Stevenson's tale. Often hailed as the best of the many screen adaptations of the story, director Robert Moumalin exploits the symbolic potential of the tale as well as boldly tapping into popular Freudian trends concerning sexual repression. The result is not a by-the-numbers rendition but an effective interpretation with quirks and dimensions of its own. Yet the film belongs to Frederic March who scooped an Oscar for his sensational dual role. Although as Jekyll he unfortunately has to trade flowery romantic dialogue with Rose Hobart, there can be no disputing the menace of his Hyde, with his simian-like appearance, top hat, cloak and cane, who turns cockney hooker Miriam Hopkins' life into a nightmare. It's a breathtaking transformation both physically (thanks to stellar make-up and special effects) and artistically and is undoubtedly the centrepiece of this excellent vintage classic.

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is Paramount doing Universal better than Universal did themselves. While this was a cash-in on the genre success of the smaller studio, if all bandwagons were this well made then cinema would be a much richer experience.

Oh, it's dated of course. A form of stiff melodrama where women still said things like "Darling... I wish this moment would last forever" and men replied "Oh, I love you... be near me always." And I love how the camera coyly veers away during the kissing scene. An odd dialogue gem is Dr.Jekyll (Frederic March) proclaiming: "We'll be so gloriously happy that even the French will be jealous of us." Look out too for Edgar Norton as Poole, offering advice to Jekyll when told his fiancée will be away for a month. "I beg your pardon, sir," he says, "but may I suggest that you ought to amuse yourself?" Yes, the dialogue is overblown, but in a wonderful, glorious way. Like a great stream-of-consciousness from the pen of a man who sees screen realism as just a petty distraction.

But what really works is the innovation of the film, almost dripping off the celluloid. I don't know if those wipes from scene to scene, the fades and the first-person perspective were originated here, but they're used superbly nonetheless. Often the frame hesitates between wipes, carving the illusion that so much is going on simultaneously that one screen cannot house it all. And the single take transformation (As Hyde says, "What you are about to see is a secret you are sworn not to reveal" – it's tinted lens effects were kept hidden for many years) is absolutely magnificent, even 70 years on.

Every single shot is worked out with a mind to an unusual angle, or a unique way of framing things, but never so that it's showy. Often the main action will be taken via longshot, the camera choosing to focus on a sole candelabrum in the foreground while the scene plays out. It's subtexts of bare backs; cleavages, thighs and garter belts are also quite racy for the time. Look how even when Jekyll has left Ivy behind, her seductively rocking leg is merged with the next scene for nearly half a minute to indicate temptation is lingering in his mind. Outstanding.

The sets, too, are unparalleled, street settings often running to several levels and making a mockery of the rival studio's sub-realist fare. The outdoor segments set to rain are exquisite, and look out for an amusing scene – the first between Miriam Hopkins and Hyde – where they engage in an accidental spitting competition. As he says the phrase "pig sty" an unintentional (?) spray of saliva coats his co-star, while a large globule of phlegm hits him in return as she says "Buckingham Palace."

Weirdly, the Doctor's name is pronounced "Gee-kul", not the commonly held "Jek-ull". I've always thought Jekyll seemed a creepier name than the passive-sounding Hyde. Maybe that's the point, and the duality of such a concept is passed forward by many shots of Hyde seeing his face via a mirror. March is not without the wit to add humour to his other persona (who resembles more Dick Emery's comedy Vicar than anything truly horrific), and is in equal terms expert in both pathos and menace. His physicality in the role also cannot be overlooked. Not only that, but you get the real feeling that you're joining March on a discovery; with each new turn of plot as much a surprise to him as it is to us. This is a real loving performance, a far cry from the "take the money and run" sensibilities of The Wolf Man.

Hyde has his violent moments, threatening to glass a man with a broken bottle – "His face was made for it" – and intimating rape. It's a showstopping performance and there's even one scene where Hyde appears to break the fourth wall – yet he's looking through the camera and into the next room. Mere technicalities are beneath the thoroughly insane Hyde. "I shall go only as far as the door, and the sight of your tears will bring me back" he hisses to a terrified Hopkins with double-meaning menace.

With it's literary script that encompasses both Bach and Shakespeare, it's a lovably fluid, fast-paced piece. Sometimes it's not always subtle – take the scene where Hopkins tells Jekyll he's got "the kindest heart in the world" and asks him for a bottle of poison "so I can kill myself, sir." But look at the anguish on March's face as the guilt of his alter ego's actions bleed through. If only all films could be made with such care and love in their craft. Absolutely Tremendous. 9/10.

As this film demonstrates, director Rouben Mamoulian (Applause (1929)) and cinematographer Karl Struss (Sunrise (1927)) were two of the great innovators in renewing the role of the camera for the talkies. Lesser talents began the talkies much the same as silent films began: with a static camera. The sound is still creaky, as usual, with awkward silences, but it's not bothersome. The editing isn't always seamless here, either, and, at times, makes the film seem unpolished, but that, too, is minor. This is the best version of Robert Louis Stevenson's novella "The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde", in my opinion, and that has very little to do with the actual story adaptation, which comes more from the stage, anyhow. It's the role of the camera that's remarkable.

I don't mean to say that this adaptation is of little interest; it's especially interesting when compared to the novella and its other adaptations. The 1920-John Barrymore version features a more grotesque Hyde and a stiffer Jekyll. Here, Jekyll is, at first, full of gaiety and youthful exuberance. That's more faithful to the novel, but also reflects the filmmakers' intentions and the changes in Hollywood. The 1920 film was bolder in content in some respects; it was a mood piece of horror and atmosphere. The fogy lamp-lit slums of London are still realized vividly in this one, but much of the feeling in them is lost. On the other hand, the mirror motif comes out more here, which corresponds nicely with the doppelgänger (or doubles) theme inherent in the story. This 1931 film is of the classic Hollywood era. The added emphasis on the romance between Jekyll and Muriel is a result. This version is about more than the story, though; the major focus is in the camera-work.

The film begins with about three and half minutes of long point-of-view takes, with a mobile camera, from the perspective of Dr. Jekyll. It establishes the camera as an active participant in the film, rather than merely a static recorder. Throughout the picture, the camera continually moves--from slight zooms, dollies, pans and tilts to dance-like tracking shots during the party sequence. Additionally, some extreme close-ups show only a character's eyes. A POV shot during Jekyll's first transition into Hyde turns into spinning memories, which is in addition to the special effects that allow for transformations that are seen with fluent, unbroken rhythm from the camera's eye.

The camera positioning is varied, as well, and some shots are extraordinary just in their positions. The photography exploits the sets to greater effect occasionally, and the filmmakers position props with the camera especially well and in rather thematic ways that apply to the story. Yet, the photography is most brilliant when not subject to much scene dissection: long takes that are unbroken and add more fluency to the already tight plot.

One could say this is showy film-making; even the transitional effects seem to draw attention to themselves: lengthy dissolves that linger as superimposed images (such as the image of Ivy's legs over the image of Jekyll and Dr. Lanyon's debate) and wipes that create brief split-screen shots. But, the camera is the most essential part of film-making (along with editing), and it seems negligent to subject it to a role of impotence--to just recording an enacted play. This 1931 "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" is a cinematic artwork and shows what film should be concerning the role of its most basic apparatus.