The Devil Doll

Tod Browning made The Devil Doll, a horror film, in 1936.  The movie starts with great aplomb and seems headed for something wonderful, but, then, the picture stalls out perversely -- the last two-thirds of the movie are literally soporific.  I defy anyone to sit through them without falling asleep.  Indeed, the movie is so oddly boring that you fall asleep without any warning -- blinking your eyes is dangerous because there is a distinct possibility you will not reopen those eyes once you have shut them for even an instant.  I tried to watch the last two-thirds of the movie three different times and, on each occasion, found myself asleep until a penultimate scene involving an explosion woke me up.  I didn't really feel all that tired and, so, I must attribute my somnolence to some weird and occult effect of this film:  it is some kind of elixir of sleep. 

Because I have never seen the middle forty-five minutes of the movie, it's questionable whether I can comment on the film.  But since I assume the movie's narcoleptic effect will be universal -- that is, that no one will ever remain awake to see the middle section of the film, I will make some remarks about the part of the picture that you, my dear readers, are likely to see before slumber overtakes you.  Tod Browning was a great, visual director who honed his skills in the silent era and, therefore, when he is working entirely with images, he is splendidly economical and effective.  Once his films get under way, however, they succumb to the truly idiotic narratives that he always seems to be adapting.  At the start of The Devil Doll, we see a flash of light shot directly into the camera lens and blinding us.  There is a sharp cut to a reverse shot showing some dark brush illumined by a searchlight and, off-screen, someone says that "the two escaped convicts" have come this way.  Cut to low shot of boots sloshing through dark, murky water and a bloodhound pulling at a leash.  The next shot shows two men, presumably the escaped convicts -- one of them (played by Henry B. Walthall) says that he has spent 17 years yearning to complete his experiments; the other convict says that the dogs have lost their scent and that he will wreak revenge on the men who framed him to 17 years on Devil's Island.  (The confident convict is played by Lionel Barrymore).  This opening sequence is a marvel of atmosphere and ultra-fast and efficient narration -- It makes Robert Bresson's mise-en-scene seem positively over wrought.  The next ten minutes is equally great.  The two protagonists reach a laboratory where the haggard scientist's wife, a wild-eyed maenad who limps about on a crutch and looks like Marie Curie, is engaged in experiments to shrink animals and people to one-sixth their size.  The shrunken creatures are torpid and inert until someone "transfixes them with the power of their will" -- then, the little beasties spring into action.  Walthall was famous for his role as the "Little Colonel" in Griffith's Birth of a Nation, but here, twenty years later, he looks very sick and old -- in fact, he was dying of some kind intestinal cancer.  (He matches his wife's wild-eyes and has a prophetic look, a bit like Frank Lloyd Wright.)  The mad scientist dies after vowing "to make things small!"  Lionel Barrymore, then, departs with the mad scientist's equally crazy wife -- they go to Paris where he engages in an elaborate and boring scheme to kill the men who embezzled money from his bank and, then, accused him of robbing the place and murdering the night watchman.   (Barrymore plays the part of the revenging villain in drag -- he acts the role of an old woman, a device that derives from Tod Browning's work with Lon Chaney in the silent film, The Unholy Three.) This part of the movie is turgid, doesn't make any sense -- although I was asleep for most of these scenes -- and ends with fiery death of the mad scientist's widow (she is pursuing her crazy dream of making everyone one-sixth their normal size) and the happy engagement of the maligned banker's daughter to a feisty and brave taxi driver.  This last scene takes place on the Eifel Tower.  Watch the movie's first 15 minutes and it's last five -- you won't have any choice anyway.  The film's talky middle part will simply put you to sleep even if you wish to resist the temptation of slumber.