Doctor X: Colorful and Funky as Ever

The "Moon Killer."

A recent viewing of Doctor X reconfirmed that this 1932 horror classic has lost none of its quirkiness. Indeed, with a moonlight killer, a medical academy perched atop a cliff, and "synthetic flesh", it remains a unique viewing experience. And, as if that weren't enough, it's historically significant as one of the first talking pictures filmed in color.

Lionel Atwill stars as the title character, Dr. Jerry Xavier, the head of the aforementioned academy. It has attracted unwanted attention due to a string of murders in the vicinity. The killings take place only on nights when the moon is full. The victims, who die by strangulation, all have a small surgical incision at the bottom of their brains.

Lionel Atwill as Dr. Xavier.

While the police--as well as a fast-talking reporter-- investigate, Dr. Xavier conducts an experiment to rule out members of his staff. That's a good idea because they're a suspicious group whose fields of study include cannibalism and the effects of moonlight. The experiment goes horribly wrong during a blackout and one of the scientists is murdered with a scalpel. The good news, though, is that Dr. Xavier now knows that someone from the academy is the "Moon Killer."

Curtiz's use of silhouettes.

Michael Curtiz directed Doctor X three years before Captain Blood (1935) would establish him as one of Hollywood's top directors. Curtiz, who was impressed by German Impressionism early in his career, imbues Doctor X with extreme lighting, silhouettes, and disturbing camera angles. He shot the film in two-strip Technicolor (not the later, more vibrant three-strip process). The print I watched, which was restored by the UCLA Film Archive, looked like a combination of sepia and an eerie dark green. While it was muted color by later standards, it gives the film an effective semi-noir appearance.

Fay Wray as Joanne Xavier.

Based on a stage play called The Terror, Doctor X benefits from a trio of effective performances. Lionel Atwill, who evolved into one of Hollywood's best supporting actors, is wonderfully off-kilter as the enigmatic Xavier. As his on-screen daughter, Fay Wray has one of her best roles and, for once, is required to do more than look frightened. Then there's Lee Tracy, who memorably played the U.S. president in The Best Man (1964), one of my favorite political dramas. Tracy almost transforms the stereotypical wisecracking reporter into a believable character. That's no small feat.

Doctor X will never rank with Universal's best horror films of the 1930s (e.g., The Invisible Man). Still, it's certainly original and made with panache by a gifted filmmaker. It was a big moneymaker for Warner Bros. and led to another Technicolor horror film, Mystery of the Wax Museum, which reunited Curtiz, Atwill, and Wray. The later "B" picture The Return of Doctor X (1939) has nothing to do with Doctor X, but is notable for featuring star Humphrey Bogart and director Vincent Sherman before they went on to bigger things.

May "The Best Man" Win

Russell (Fonda) contemplates
his future.

A political convention provides the backdrop for The Best Man, a 1964 adaptation of Gore Vidal's stage play about the maneuverings of a pair of would-be presidential nominees. Henry Fonda plays William Russell, the current Secretary of State and a self-confessed egghead who spouts quotes, jokes with reporters, and avoids rumors about his philandering. Cliff Robertson portrays his opponent, Senator Joe Cantwell, a fiery politican who rose from humble beginnings and gained fame trying to connect the mob to communists. With Russell holding a slim (but undecisive) lead among the delegates, each man seeks the endorsement of the party's popular former president, Art Hockstader (Lee Tracy).

In a candid conversation with Russell, Hockstader reveals that he's dying from cancer. It's clear that these men value their friendship and respect each other, but Hockstader also harbors concerns about Russell's indecisiveness. He confides to his friend: "Sometimes, you get so busy thinking how complex everything is that the important problems don't get solved." After the meeting, when Russell's wife and his campaign manager ask if he got the endoresement, Russell replies: "It's what he (Hockstader) didn't say. He's going to support Joe Cantwell."

Cantwell confronts an accuser.

Cantwell, though, is convinced that the former president will endorse Russell. He meets with Hockstader and shows him medical documentation that Russell once suffered a nervous breakdown. Cantwell believes this knowledge will sway Hockstader to shift his support. Instead, the plan backfires. Hockstader, already aware of Russell's past, tells Cantwell: "I don't object to you being a bastard. It's your being such a stupid bastard that I object to." As Cantwell storms out of the hotel room, Hockstader informs him that he just lost the endorsement.

That evening, during the pre-convention dinner, Hockstader surprises everyone when he endorses no one. Without a clear favorite, the party's nomination is truly up for grabs--and that's when the political chess moves really begin.



The former president endorses no one.

A heavy dose of cynicism permeates The Best Man, most notably in the unexpected ending. Vidal, who adapted his play, takes potshots at everything from the candidates' posters ("Hustle with Russell") to their carefully orchestrated political ploys. In one scene, as Russell and his staff view a "spontanteous demonstration" on the convention floor, a staffer comments that it's supposed to last for twenty-two minutes. One suspects that Hockstader best represents Vidal's own views, with dialogue such as (spoken to Cantwell): "It's par for the course when you fool people."

Still, The Best Man is a film with neither heroes nor villains. Cantwell may be ruthless, dangerously ambitious, and willing to distort the truth. However, he is also a faithful, affectionate husband who is innocent of key accusations made against him. Furthermore, as Hockstader notes, he "knows his own mind"--which might make him a better president than Russell. As for Russell, he is certainly more likable, but has cheated on his wife, may lack decisiveness, and finds himself a hostage of his own ego ("I never pass a mirror I don't look in...I wonder why?").

Fine performances abound in the The Best Man, with Robertson and Fonda at the top of their games. Lee Tracy steals many scenes, but then Vidal gives Hockstader most of the juicy dialogue. Tracy originated the role in the 1961 stage version of The Best Man and won a Tony. He received an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actor for the film version (losing out to Peter Ustinov in Topkapi).

An intelligent examination of American politics, The Best Man shares many similarities with the earlier Advise and Consent (e.g., Fonda is a nominee for Secretary of State in the latter film, Robertson and Don Murray cope with similar allegations). It may lack the intensity of Advise & Consent, but it's a rewarding, still relevant film. It also foreshadowed two of the darker periods in American politics: In 1972, Senator Thomas Eagleton, George McGovern's running mate, resigned as the vice presidential nominee when it was revealed he had been treated for depression; The Best Man was filmed at the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles, the place where Robert Kennedy would be assassinated in 1968.