Mystery of the Wax Museum (1933) / 2015 review

 Much like Michael Curtiz' other Warners Technicolor film, starring Lionel Atwill and Faye Wray (who establishes her sex appeal and screaming abilities in both films), Dr. X (1932), Mystery of the Wax Museum has a major problem with pacing, a talky script, and quick-talking news reporter trying to rob the horror of the plot with her comic hi-jinx. Glenda Farrell is the chatty, relationship-plagued, and snap-talking reporter, friends with Wray who is dating a sculptor played by Frank McGugh. Similarities to Vincent Price's film include a scrupulous, slimy money-man burning down the wax museum of master sculptor (in this film, the capably understated Atwill who had a way of not hamming it up, showing nuance and ache without overdoing it) to get fire insurance (resulting in the sculptor supposedly having his hands burned and confining him to a wheelchair), the girlfriend of his employee (Wray who once again screams a lot, particularly at the end) eyed by the mad sculptor to be his "new" Antionette "model" (to live immortal), a junkie employee of the sculptor who winds up informing to the police on him, and the finale inside the elaborately designed wax sculpting machine, built to manufacture dead stolen corpses into dummies for the London museum. Where this film fails and the Price film succeeded was in alleviating the snail-crawling lulls that stifle this from being a real gem. Atwill is fine, while Wray is pretty. I'm always a sucker for a horror film set at a wax museum with a mad sculptor, and this one you might call the granddaddy of the genre that produced others like House of Wax, Horrors of the Black Museum, Nightmare in Wax, etc. Too much Farrell, and not enough Atwill, does this film no favors. Insisting to follow the news reporter was a Warner Bros. standard, and so much emphasis on snappy banter between him/her and the cops and news paper editor (and staff) would often deter from the horror plot that us fans were (are) truly interested in. The film is very persistent in showing Farrell always flirting and at odds with her editor- in-chief; the ending where they get together is a bit eye-rolling. There's a subplot involving her and an affluent London playboy (wrongfully arrested and later acquitted in the murder of a woman Atwill steals for his Joan of Arc wax dummy). It is very easy for the attention to drift away from the film as characters talk, talk, talk. The breaking of the wax face to reveal the horrific Max Factor facial burn makeup for Atwill is still potent, even though the synthetic flesh Moon Killer's ugly visage was a bit more pronounced. Once again, the work of art designer Anton Grot doesn't disappoint, particularly when Wray ventures deep into the building of Atwill's museum and workshop. Lots of odd angular architecture. As a film of importance in art / set design and high quality camera work, both Doctor X and Mystery of the Wax Museum fit the bill, and I think horror fans of the classic period should check them out. You will have to sit through a lot of yackety-yak, though, in order to enjoy them. The early color process is quite eyepopping. I think we are fortunate that both Curtiz films were found, still exist, and are available for us to experience anew.

I think Price's film better serves justice to the man that ruined the sculptor's life for a little insurance money, trying to recoup a sum for supposedly sinking his money in a lost cause. We get to see the dirtbag get it good in Price's film, while Atwill just balks at the wooden case holding the dead body. Also there's a lot more of burn-face ghoul, night prowler Price than Atwill. Wray's beauty and obvious sex appeal are quite understood by Warners. She'd be immortalized in King Kong, though.

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