The Case for ‘The Invisible Man’
Why you should give this 1933 Universal monster flick a rewatch
In Universal Pictures’ lineup of iconic horror villains, the Invisible Man, although known to audiences, doesn’t share the same status as characters like Dracula or Frankenstein’s Monster. Every year at Halloween, fans dress up as these and other iconic creatures from horror. They rewatch the films, and theaters might even screen them during the season. However, Dr. Jack Griffin and his bandaged face are often lost in the shuffle. Dracula and Frankenstein have received remakes and sequels, and while those, varying in quality, have their audiences, The Invisible Man’s five sequels nor its 2020 remake share that level of recognition. At least The Rocky Horror Show’s “Science Fiction/Double Feature” includes a nod to the film within its lyrics, and comedy duo Abbott and Costello met the man in 1951.
While the story of a deranged scientist isn’t the most original — horror and science fiction directors around the time squeezed the premise dry — this dive into the mind of a madman deserves more attention for the performance that brings to life such a captivating character and the innovative special effects that both enhance the story as well as showcase the possibilities of filmmaking at the time.
The Invisible Man marks the American screen debut of Claude Rains, who would go on to have a prestigious genre-spanning career. Prior to being a screen actor, he was a young man with a speech impediment and a strong Cockney accent. His dedication to becoming a stage actor, and daily elocution lessons, helped him shed his impediment. He also served in the London infantry during World War I, where he was involved in a gas attack while stationed in France. He was familiar with walking in suspense and the eventual horror of being confronted by a sudden, in this case, noxious terror.
After the war, he returned to the stage and became more popular than ever due to his distinct, powerful voice. By the late 1920s he was a Broadway regular who became interested in film. The advent of talkies required actors who were trained and skilled in using their voice as an acting tool. After a failed screen test for another Universal film, A Bill of Divorcement, James Whale (known for directing 1931’s Frankenstein) cast Rains in his latest feature, The Invisible Man, on the basis of Rains’ unique voice.
Like Dracula and Frankenstein, the film was adapted from a book. Inspired by an 1897 H.G. Wells novel of the same name, Griffin is an ambitious scientist who turns himself invisible — sorry to spoil the twist — via chemistry. In the novel, Griffin was already insane prior to his experiments, whereas the film uses a fictional chemical called monocane to explain his madness.
Playing the title character meant that Rains would have nothing but his voice and physical movements to portray his character. This being his screen debut, infusing his strong, powerful voice burst onto the scene in an age where sound was a new film innovation.
Rains brings a Joker-like energy to his role, whereas his fellow Universal monsters bring terror through more subtle means, such as a hypnotizing stare or stilted movements meant to replicate the eerie way in which the walking dead might move. His body shakes when tense or lost in a monologue about scientific secrets, yet he can also just relax in a rocking chair while plainly discussing his reign of terror. When Rains leans more into the egotistical aspect of his character, he stands, shoulders squared, posing dramatically. Colin Clive’s Dr. Henry Frankenstein, another famous mad scientist, could also be maniacal, although it’s reserved for the famous scene in which his creature arises to claps of thunder. Once the Monster let loose, Dr. Frankenstein becomes less insane and more heroic once he has seen the error of playing God.
In addition to dramatic deliveries, Rains’ voice also sinks into a huskier tone, marking a vocal journey that can rise to fervorous highs and unassuming, even tender lows. Part of this owes itself to the fantastic writing, giving Rains powerful words that reflect the arc his character is on. When Griffin is explaining his plan for gaining power to Flora, his fiancée, you never once believe that he might doubt himself or won’t achieve what he wants. His rolling R’s shakes us. His speech is delivered as if he were performing MacBeth. His voice gleams with conviction and a terrifying sense of determination. While he does assure her that he’ll use the money he’ll make selling his findings to start a new life for the two of them, his love for her is overshadowed by the possibilities of holding the idea of invisibility over the heads of armies, the country, and the world at large. If something can benefit him, he will gladly take the opportunity. His voice paired with Griffin’s character is a combination that makes for an intriguing anti-hero.
Horror protagonists can get the short end of the stick for being less interesting than the villains they square off against. Jonathan in Dracula, for example, is the hero, but he’s not what comes to mind when we think of the film. Within The Invisible Man, Flora and Arthur Kemp, Griffin’s former assistant, aren’t the most developed characters, but they aren’t the focus. They’re the tragic side characters who mean well but find themselves at the more captivating Griffin’s mercy. No one is going to exploit Griffin’s scientific discoveries, as in the novel’s ending.
Griffin, being both his own protagonist and antagonist, pulls all of the attention to him. Thanks to Rains’ vocal range and physical performance, we are able to see that while Griffin can plot murders, harass helpless police officers, and manipulate Kemp, he can also have moments where his tragic nature shines through. When alone, he reflects on his life and his work. There is still a part of him that wants to become visible, be like the famous scientists that inspired him, and live with financial security and his true love. Although moments like these are brief, they add nuance to the character and allow you to see that the role of “villain” isn’t reserved for zombies or werewolves.
Paired with our intriguing protagonist are special effects that were astounding for the time. Looking back on them today, in the CGI age, they hold up decently well. Most are done with wire tricks, carried over from theatre. The same strings that made Dracula fly in his bat form swipes hats off of unsuspecting men and topples over furniture. Notably, making Griffin invisible is what secures this film as innovative.
For the initial reveal, it took a laborious process of having Rains wearing a black velvet full-body suit under his costume, which would be shot on a black background as he removed the bandages and his clothes. From there, the black background would be edited out, giving shots with Rains a transparent backdrop, so his shots could be layered on top of the ones with other characters or furniture. On top of all of that, removing the background had to be done frame-by-frame. It was 1933. No computers to make that a quicker process. When Griffin is removing the bandages from his head, Rains hid just below the camera and took the bandages off from a wired model of his own head. His own hands are seen doing the work.
A shot of Griffin undressing while looking in a mirror was the most complex, requiring shots from multiple angles, impeccable timing, more layering, and frame-by-frame editing again.
While black outlines can be seen on Griffin’s body while undresses, the effect is nonetheless remarkable for the time and shows that cinema was willing to experiment with special effects, and what better genre to do it in than horror? What could be achieved with green screens today was done through layering shots and careful timing almost 100 years ago.
To reveal Griffin’s face during the conclusion, it took a timelapse montage of watching his head go from bones to muscle to flesh. The process for sculpting the face was difficult for Rains to endure. Having his face covered while the plaster dried reminded him of the gas attack he experienced in the war. Despite this setback, he didn’t let it get in the way of a memorable scene, and any fear that he must’ve felt during shooting, especially when having layers of bandages and velvet on his face, was masked by his confidence and how well he stepped into the character.
John P. Fulton was the mastermind behind these innovative techniques that make talking about this film that much more exciting. His work can also be seen in The Bride of Frankenstein, The Mummy, the parting of the Red Sea in The Ten Commandments, and Vertigo.
The Invisible Man is not just another story of a mad scientist. He’s a man whose psyche and emotional range we get to explore. You can feel sorry for him, or you can despise him for all the chaos he causes. Claude Rains plays both sides with precision and enthusiasm that you can’t walk away without an opinion of him and his brilliant portrayal. His supporting cast also contribute memorable, if over-the-top performances that capture the hysteria sweeping through the town.
If you’d like to see what I mean by “chaos” and “hysteria,” and why The Invisible Man may be the bloodiest of all the Universal monster films, then give it a rewatch and see for yourself.