Svengali

 *****

Master hypnotist and composer, Svengali (John Barrymore at his very best) yearns for a young beauty (Marian Marsh) who is in love with painter, Billie (Bramwell Fletcher; he's the one with the very small role but immortal line in The Mummy (1932): "He went for a little walk. You should have seen his face!"). Using his hypnotism, Svengali fuses his control over Trilby, in a way "owning" her. Billie is always in her heart, which is a problem Svengali attempts for the rest of the duration of the film to diffuse, with little luck. Could he ever secure her affection for him or will Trilby always long for Billie in her heart when his health dissipates and the control loosens?

With the Anton Grot sets which give the locales for which the characters exist a unique type of architectural design reminiscent to what the German expressionists were doing at the time, it allows us to see his work right before Warners took advantage of his talents for films (which dealt with the macabre) like Doctor X & Mystery of the Wax Museum.

Barrymore's grotesque features give him a peculiar look that is just perfect for a horror film made right as Universal was about to unleash quite a cast of characters that gave birth to a genre that continues until today (the way his hair and beard give him the look of a vaudeville villain, how his eyes lose their pupils and turn into a complete color when he fully uses his hypnotism to great lengths to grab hold of victims and tell them what he wants them to do at his bidding, his far-reaching height which looks as if he had stilts for legs).

The spirited Pre-Code energy in the dialogue and adult material is so alive and well like the way the characters speak on sexual situations such as Trilby's modeling duties to eat and sexual escapades which Svengali uses to torment her into leaving Billie, Trilby posing nude which horrifies Billie when he sees her allowing artists to paint her body in all its naked glory, the "bath scene" where two of Billie's English artiste pals remove Svengali's clothes (behind a curtain, but we see the cloth fragments scatter out to the floor!) making sure to dump him in a tub, a horrible-voiced singer leaving her abusive husband for an unsatisfied Svengali who was just using her for the money that came out of the marriage to his pocket, etc.).

The exciting camera-work Isn't static but does capitalize on the rich faces of its main leads. The scene where the camera "follows" the "mind control" of Svengali's hypnotism as it travels from his room, out the window, over the rooftops of Parisian homes (cool miniatures, by the way), and eventually into Trilby's room is a thing of beauty.

There's the tragic melodrama of love denied while the popular singing act (Svengali composes and Trilby sings to his work) decline due to Svengali's health and age--he is the real reason Trilby's singing voice can achieve the tonal degrees it does--he realizes when looking into her mouth that it has potential to reach the exact lengths he so desires for his composed music. The fake "suicide" to get Billie to let go, and Trilby's eventual betrothal to Svengali (thanks to his mind control); it all lends itself to this romantic attachment to Gothic horror that existed at the time.

The film really allows Barrymore carte blanche to take his character and expressively play this character to the hilt. He's so much fun to watch: he clashes with the "more civilized" characters, although Donald Crisp's Laird and Lumsden Hare's burley and jovial pair of English artists trying to make it in Paris, with their beards and excitable personalities (life-loving pair, this two are), meet him half way in the larger-than-life category. Barrymore just knew how to lose himself in these really baroque and often hideous characters, while he could also offer up his handsome "profile" for elegant parts, too. Grand Motel could be seen as an obvious example of Barrymore allowing his regular features to breath absent the mask of grotesquerie. As far as sound films go, Barrymore gave us Svengali, and did he ever sink his teeth into it! Trilby is a shining light that is dimmed by Svengali while Bramwell is saddled with the heart-of-gold romantic love interest Trilby pines for but feels too spoiled by the sins of life to be good enough for (yecch).

While not in the conversation with Dracula and Frankenstein although it came out at the same time, perhaps Svengali deserves to be. I think horror fans need to see this and decide, because I love both the Universal films and believe Svengali is right there with them.

John Barrymore, to horror fans, might be most recognized for his silent horror outing, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde in 1920. But, for me, Svengali will be the character and film I most remember him and appreciate him for (although I do admire his work in the Jekyll/Hyde film as well).