WHAT IF—
ALTERNATIVE CASTINGS IN CLASSIC HORROR FILMS
By Steven Thornton
The basic facts of horror film history
are well known to any neophyte movie fan.
Bela Lugosi became a screen legend via his
portrayal of Count Dracula. Boris Karloff
achieved cinematic immortality as the Frankenstein Monster. These cultural archetypes
were so enduring it is tempting to think that
the mating of the role and performer was
somehow preordained, jointly agreed upon
by the producers that ruled Hollywood and
the dark gods that lord over Halloween.
But film historians also tell us that for a
brief moment in time, key casting choices in
the landmark horror films of the 1930s and
’40s were up for grabs. Dozens of names
were bandied about for lead roles in these
and other classic shockers during the early
stages of the pre-production process. Some
of these names are well known today, some
are no more than a footnote in the pages of
forgotten movie lore. But the selection of any
one of these actors might have changed these
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MONSTERS FROM THE VAULT #29
classic films into something quite different
from what we know today.
Some of what follows is shrouded in rumor and speculation. But buried in the cracks
of these stories lie hints of an alternate reality,
one in which the familiar lies are juxtaposed
with the unimagined. So, armed with a handful of press releases, studio publicity blurbs,
and some imaginative guesswork, we will now
peek behind the curtain of cinema history and
envision some of Hollywood’s most important
horror films as they might have been.
The Man Who Laughs
In 1928, Universal embarked upon an
ambitious and expensive film adaptation of
Victor Hugo’s melodrama L’Homme qui Rit.
The film’s grim scenario, concerning Gwynplaine, the son of a 17th century nobleman,
whose face is mutilated by renegade Gypsies
as part of a power struggle among the ruling
class, was strong stuff for the silent screen.
Seemingly, only one man could portray such
a grotesque role and still elicit a measure of
sympathy from the audience—celebrated
character star Lon Chaney.
The planned casting of Chaney, long
rumored but never proven conclusively, is
commonly thought to have been a catalyst
behind the genesis of the film. Chaney’s
powerful performances in Universal’s The
Hunchback of Notre Dame and The Phantom
of the Opera were professional triumphs,
securing his status as one of Hollywood’s
most popular performers and scoring impressively at the box office. In addition to
echoing the historic settings of these earlier
films, the role of Gwynplaine would have
given Chaney yet another chance to “play
the ugly” and supplement his lengthy list of
bizarre makeups and memorable character
roles. The pathos aspect of the story would
likely have appealed to Chaney’s fans, adding to the likelihood of box office success.
Taken together, these arguments lend plausible support to the notion of casting Chaney
as The Man Who Laughs.
But such supposition ignores one impor-
tant fact—Chaney was now under contract
to Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. Lon Chaney’s
star was nearing its apex at MGM and the
likelihood of his being loaned out, even for
a plum project like The Man Who Laughs, is
questionable. Also at issue was the matter of
Chaney’s previous experiences with Universal, which were contentious at best. Chaney’s
hostility toward director Rupert Julian during
the making of The Phantom of the Opera is well
documented, and the post-production debacle
that plagued that film prior to its release probably did little to allay his resentment. Now a
top-tiered box office attraction, Chaney was in
a position to demand creative control over the
film, up to and including the choice of co-star
and director. Most likely, none of the cinematic
traffic cops who toiled behind Universal’s
megaphones would have met with Chaney’s
approval, necessitating the acquisition of an
outside director such as Clarence Brown or
Victor Seastrom. Was Universal really interested in adding these and other complications
to a project whose budget was already slated
to top the million-dollar mark?
With Chaney unavailable, Universal, not
surprisingly, tapped into its Germanic roots.
Director Paul Leni, an import from Berlin
and a former designer in Max Reinhardt’s
renowned theatrical troupe, had scored a sizable hit for the studio with 1927’s The Cat and
the Canary. Leni, with an assist from cinematographer Gilbert Warrenton, had directed
Canary with an eye toward stylized sets
and a shadowy, evocative lighting scheme,
qualities that enhanced the effectiveness of
what would become known
as the quintessential old dark
house mystery. Universal
quickly pegged Leni as the
director for The Man Who
Laughs, and from there it was
but a small step to secure the
talents of Conrad Veidt, with
whom Leni had worked in
the 1924 German horror anthology Waxworks. A skilled
actor who had appeared in a
number of German Expressionist classics, Veidt had a
striking look and was more
than adept at handling the
emotive extremes that a role
like Gwynplaine required.
Veidt’s performance as
Gwynplaine, in fact, became
one of the film’s primary
assets. Emotionally fragile
despite his horrific outward
appearance, Veidt’s GwynConrad Veidt as Gwynplaine in 1928’s The Man
plaine is more a victim than
Who Laughs. Jack Pierce is responsible for Veidt’s
toothy grin. (Courtesy of Photofest)
he is a monster and, along
with Chaney’s Quasimodo
and Phantom, became a prototype for many added to the episode when Gwynplaine is
Universal horror characters to come. Yet seduced by the Duchess Josiana (Olga Baone wonders how Chaney might have ap- clanova), a pivotal scene in the film. Chaney
proached the role. Chaney, unique among certainly would have provided more box
film actors of the day, had an uncanny knack office clout in the U.S. market than Veidt,
for conveying both menace and pathos in the important for a film that was released in the
guise of a single character. His gift for expres- waning days of silent features. The net sum
sive body language would also have been an of these changes is important to consider. If
asset; one can imagine what he might have The Man Who Laughs had become a success
on the level of The Hunchback of Notre
Dame and The Phantom of the Opera,
would the upcoming Universal horror
cycle have been tipped in the direction
of historic melodramas?
The Man Who Laughs emerged
After the success of The Hunchback of Notre Dame and
as
an
effective, though uneven, mix
The Phantom of the Opera, it was logical to consider Lon
of moody visuals and melodramatic
Chaney for the lead in The Man Who Laughs. Had Chaney
starred, it would have been interesting to see his makeup
flourishes. Paul Leni’s directorial
for the role. (Courtesy of Photofest)
skill, again aided by cinematographer
Warrenton, fully utilizes the film’s
impressive sets while Conrad Veidt’s
stylized performance creates a character that is indeed memorable. The film
also solidified at least one significant
trend—the emergence of Jack Pierce
as Universal’s resident makeup expert. Veidt’s grinning countenance,
achieved through the application of
a denture-like appliance, was simple
yet startling and paved the way for
the landmark monster designs that
Pierce would champion in the years
to come. Even without the talents of
Lon Chaney, The Man Who Laughs
holds up as one of the darkest fanSUMMER 2011
35
Eighty years after Dracula’s release, it’s hard to
imagine anyone other than Bela Lugosi as Count
Dracula. (Courtesy of Photofest)
of now obscure players, Chester
Morris and Ian Keith among
them, before settling on Bela Lugosi for the role that would make
him a horror film legend. But
two rumors stand prominently
above the rest, both in terms
of the talent involved and the
impact they might have had on
the Universal horror series.
Film writers have long speculated about Lon Chaney’s possible involvement in the project.
Such conjecture is understandable given Chaney’s on-screen
image and his history with
Dracula director Tod Browning.
Chaney’s death in August 1930,
so the theory goes, robbed us of
what may have been the screen’s
greatest vampire. But do
such musings coincide with
the probable facts?
As fate would have it,
tasies of the late silent period. Perhaps the Chaney, then in the throes of death, was at
only tangible benefit of Chaney’s presence the peak of his success. Named the most
would have been the greater visibility it popular male box office attraction by thewould have provided to a film that, to this ater exhibitors in 1928 and ’29, Chaney’s
day, remains underappreciated in the canon first speaking role was anticipated with
of prototype American horror films.
as much fervor as Greta Garbo’s much
ballyhooed talkie debut. Chaney’s status
Dracula
at MGM made him a critical asset during
As documented in David Skal’s Hol- a period of growing economic upheaval,
lywood Gothic, the journey of Dracula from and his lucrative contract (he had signed
novel to the movie screen was indeed thorny. an extension with Metro in January 1930)
Universal, which embarked on production would have forced Universal to pay a
of the film in mid-1930, considered a roster steep premium to acquire his services
on a loan-out. The transition to sound was another
issue clouding the Dracula
argument. Chaney’s throaty
baritone and mid-American
accent were serviceable in his
only talkie, 1930’s The Unholy
Three, but in the role of a Transylvanian Count they may have
been less than convincing. As
he admitted late in life, the
presence of sound curtailed
the use of some of his most
effective makeup devices. All
great stars reinvent themselves
at some point in their career.
Conrad Veidt (left) and Paul Leni (right) were rumored
Had Chaney lived, perhaps the
to star and direct in Universal’s Dracula, but Veidt
change from silent to talking
abandoned Hollywood and Leni died before produccinema
might have convinced
tion of the film began. (Courtesy of Photofest)
the Man of a Thousand Faces
that it was time to chart his film
persona in a new direction.
Even if Lon Chaney had
been cast as Dracula, the end
result was far from certain.
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MONSTERS FROM THE VAULT #29
Along with his skill as an actor, Chaney’s
popularity depended largely on the balance
between menace and sympathy he was able
to elicit from his grotesque characterizations.
Dracula, a figure of consummate evil, offered
precious few opportunities for such sympathy. It is conceivable that the role may have
been retooled to fit Chaney’s screen persona,
either via double casting (with Chaney as
both Dracula and Van Helsing) or by making Dracula a multifaceted character. Such
changes, however, could well have resulted
in a Dracula that was even further from Bram
Stoker’s original conception than the Browning/Lugosi version proved to be. Also, there
was the matter of Chaney’s voice and appearance, which were decidedly non-European in
nature. The same problem, ironically, would
confront Lon Chaney, Jr., in 1943’s Son of
Dracula. These issues suggest that a Chaney
Because of his enormous success at Universal and
MGM in the 1920s, Lon Chaney might have been the
first choice to play Dracula, but he succumbed to
cancer in 1930. (Courtesy of Photofest)
Dracula, even if it had been a popular success,
would never have achieved the iconic status
that the film ultimately enjoyed. Like John
Barrymore in Svengali, perhaps this was a
case in which Chaney’s performance would
have been remembered as just another entry
in an admittedly impressive body of work.
Death settled the Chaney/Dracula question forever, just as it colors the speculation
surrounding another name that was reportedly associated with the film. In 1929, Conrad
Veidt abandoned Hollywood and returned
to his native Germany. Concern over his
language skills at a time when talking films
had become all the rage is usually cited as
the primary motivator for Veidt’s decision.
But the death of director Paul Leni may have
been a contributing factor as well. Leni, who
succumbed to blood poisoning that same
year, was generally regarded to have been
on the fast track for the directorial chair of
Dracula. Had Leni lived to direct Dracula, the
possibility of Veidt in the title role becomes
more plausible—and more intriguing.
Based on his handling of The Cat and
the Canary and The Last Warning, Leni would
have strived to give Dracula an effective
balance between pace and atmosphere. It
is a safe bet that he would have taken full
advantage of the film’s impressive sets, especially Carfax Abbey, which barely appears
in the finished version. Leni had a knack for
expressing his ideas visually and for valuing action at a premium over exposition;
no doubt he would have avoided the “talk,
talk, talk” trap into which Tod Browning and
company would fall. And it is refreshing to
consider the prospect of comedy relief that
might have actually elicited a chuckle or two.
But a key question is—What kind of
performance would Leni have elicited from
Conrad Veidt? With his imposing height and
gaunt, skeletal frame, Veidt would certainly
have cut a memorable figure as the undead
Count. His work in the Expressionist cinema
of his home country also suggests more than
just a passing affinity with dark and outré
subject matters. Veidt’s appearances in films
like The Hands of Orlac, The Student of Prague,
and The Man Who Laughs reveal an actor who
was especially adept at externalizing the inner
conflicts of emotionally tortured characters.
His performance as Dracula, consequently,
might have focused on the tragic nature of the
once mighty nobleman and,
like Karloff’s Frankenstein’s
Monster, sought to reveal the
soul behind the monster. On
the debit side of the equation, Veidt is unlikely to have
captured the sexual heat that
Lugosi brought to the part; it
is difficult to envision female
fans writing Veidt to ask if his
preference extended only to
“maiden’s blood.” The end
result is that a Leni/Veidt
Dracula, successful though it
may have been, would likely
have been a very different beast
than the film that, warts and all,
has endured for 80 years.
Dracula changed the
course of history for Universal Pictures. Although the
film has taken its lumps from
critics both then and now, its
After Bela Lugosi turned down the part of the monster in
success opened the door for
the 1931 film Frankenstein, Boris Karloff stepped in, and
the great Horror Boom of the
the role made him one of Universal’s biggest stars for
years to come. (Courtesy of Photofest)
1930s. It is certainly possible
that a Leni/Veidt Dracula
might be seen as a more effective and memo- in the summer of that year.
rable motion picture today. This scenario, The initial choice of Lugosi was a logical
however, would have robbed us of the defini- though somewhat questionable bit of casting
tive performance by one of horror cinema’s on Universal’s part. Lugosi was a perfect fit
most iconic personalities. Horror fans may for the role of Dracula, his matinee idol looks
forever have to debate which they would and Old World charm lending a veneer of serather have seen—a great vampire movie or ductive civility to the character. The box office
a classic match between success of Universal’s vampire thriller also
role and performer.
argued in favor of another Lugosi headline
role. But for Frankenstein, this match of role
Frankenstein
and performer was less than ideal. Lugosi’s
And now we come flamboyant acting style and powerful personto the Queen Mother of ality would have likely turned the monster
alternate casting rumors.
into an intense and menacing figure, bereft
Following the suc- of the “lost soul” quality that Karloff would
cess of Dracula, Universal bring to the role. Lugosi himself was leery of
rushed ahead with a film a part that required heavy character makeup
adaptation of Mary Shel- and offered no dialogue. He, with the supley’s Frankenstein. Horror port of director Florey, originally lobbied for
film mavens know the the role of the creator and not the creation,
facts—a screen test was although this plea was to fall on deaf ears.
arranged with Bela Lugosi The test footage of Bela Lugosi as the
as the monster and Robert Monster was assuredly the best indicator
Florey as director in mid- of how a Florey/Lugosi version of the film
summer 1931. By August, would have looked. Unfortunately, the twoJames Whale had usurped reel test was seen by precious few studio
Florey’s role on the project insiders and has become one of the lost
and Lugosi was replaced treasures of horror film history. Its absence is
by little-known character keenly felt, given that those who participated
actor Boris Karloff. A leg- had widely conflicting impressions regardend was born. But in the ing the event. Producer Carl Laemmle Jr.
decades that followed, reportedly laughed aloud while watching the
Bela Lugosi finally donned the monster boots in 1943’s
film writers have had a footage in a studio screening room. Lugosi,
Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man. Here, Bela relaxes on the
field day speculating on however, was apparently pleased and cited
set with Bela Jr. (Courtesy of Photofest)
the fateful turn of events Paul Ivano’s camerawork as “magnificent.”
SUMMER 2011
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One of the projects in which Universal
hoped to star their new King of Horror,
Boris Karloff (shown in The Old Dark
House), was an adaptation of H.G.
Wells’ The Invisible Man. (Courtesy of
Photofest)
(included in MagicImage Filmbook’s 1989
publication of the Frankenstein film script)
indicates this is so. To the contrary, it appears
likely that the original conception of the monster would have been something darker and
more sinister. Instead of a creature driven to
hate by the world’s rejection, a Lugosi monster would have likely been a personification
of pure evil from the get-go. Any hints of
humanity we now associate with the monster
were still a few months down the road, waiting for a personnel shakeup to reveal the true
potential behind the Frankenstein project.
Frankenstein was a landmark of 1930s
cinema that kicked Universal’s fledgling
horror cycle into overdrive. Without the
key casting of Karloff as the monster, the
film would likely have been remembered
as a soulless shocker geared toward more
mundane thrills. And under that scenario, it
is quite possible that Universal’s celebrated
horror tradition might have died aborning.
It is maddeningly difficult to state with touches turns to death, and with each tragedy The Invisible Man
any degree of certainty what the monster that he unknowingly sets off his sense of isolaIn the wake of Frankenstein, The Old Dark
looked like at this early date. Reports regard- tion grows more complete. Do not overlook House, and The Mummy, Boris Karloff’s star
ing Lugosi’s appearance are frustratingly the visual aspect of the Frankenstein Monster, was on the rise. His name alone was enough
brief and ambiguous to the point of being either; even casual movie fans acknowledge to headline motion pictures and draw crowds
nondescript; one news reporter who was on that Karloff’s “look” was just right. With his into movie houses of the 1930s. One of the
the scene wrote that Lugosi’s makeup melted quirky face and bony physicality, Karloff’s projects that Universal initiated to capitalize
in streaks of “red, yellow and blue” under visage provided the foundation for one of on his newfound celebrity was an adaptation
the hot studio lights. Further confusion was horror cinema’s iconic images.
of H.G. Wells’ sci-fi thriller, The Invisible Man.
added by Edward Van Sloan, cast in the role Above all, Boris Karloff will be forever Karloff’s association with the project ended
of Dr. Waldman in both the Frankenstein test remembered for giving the monster a soul. once his initial contract with the studio exand the finished film; decades later, Van Sloan Were Lugosi and Florey aiming for the same pired in 1933. But the speculation concerning
remarked that Lugosi looked like “something result? Nothing in the script of the screen test his performance in the role is another posout of Babes in Toyland.” This certainly
does not sound like the Frankenstein
Monster we know and love today. It is
important to note, too, that the unique
Jack Pierce “flat top” makeup was designed to capitalize on the particular
bone structure of Karloff’s face. Put this
look on Lugosi and you are likely to find,
as the producers of Frankenstein Meets the
Wolf Man did a dozen years later, that
neck bolts and jagged scars alone do not
a classic monster make.
Perhaps it is helpful at this point
to cite the many attributes that Karloff
brought to the role. Chief among these
was a harrowing combination of confusion and innocence. Karloff’s eyes
express this best. Laced with bewilderment at the world around him and
rimmed with those ghastly dark circles,
they plead for our sympathy even while
they fill us with revulsion. Effective, too,
are Karloff’s displays of pent-up rage.
Though not large in physical stature,
Karloff convincingly projects a powerClaude Rains as Jack Griffin in James Whale’s The Invisible Man. (Courtesy of Photofest)
ful and menacing aura. Everything he
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MONSTERS FROM THE VAULT #29
sibility that is fascinating to consider.
Universal’s initial conception of the
story bore little resemblance to the novel
Wells had penned. In an unused draft written by none other than Preston Sturges, a
medical researcher (the script suggests Paul
Lukas for the part) is probing the secrets of
invisibility. With Bolshevik agents in hot
pursuit, half-witted lab assistant Karloff
is injected with the formula and goes on
an axe-wielding, murderous rampage. The
Karloff role, incidentally, seems to have
been a thankless and undistinguished one,
a factor that undoubtedly contributed to the
rejection of this early draft by the decision
makers at Universal. (Gracious thanks to
Ted Newsom for information on the unused
Karloff/Invisible Man script.) Once director
James Whale became involved with the
project, such wild and wooly plot twists
were scrapped and a script was written to
approximate the Wells’ original with liberal
doses of black humor added to the mix.
Given the convoluted history of the
script, it is difficult to state with certainty
how a Karloff version of The Invisible Man
would have “looked.” Yet there are enough
elements common to any invisibility story
that some inferences can be made. One is the
emphasis on the voice as a primary means
of menace. In this regard, Karloff was quite
adept; his nuanced handling of dialogue, in
fact, became one of the joys of such films as
The Mummy and The Body Snatcher. Another
staple of these films is the gradual onset of
megalomania with the invisible menace be-
coming increasingly convinced of his invincibility.
Karloff was seldom cast
in roles of such grandiose
fervor, although his work
in The Mask of Fu Manchu, in which he incites
throngs of Asian warriors
to rise up against the
Western world, comes
close. Growing hysteria is
another typical plot bromide. Here Karloff was in
less comfortable territory.
An actor who was at his
best when conveying
thought and emotion via
subtle expressions, he
sometimes resorted to
stock mannerisms when
the time came to “play
big” (witness his Frankenstein-like grunts and
Even though he’s only heard and not seen in
poses when tormented by
most of the film, Claude Rains’ performance in
Bela Lugosi in The Raven).
The Invisible Man is one of the standouts of the
’30s. (Courtesy of Photofest)
Unquestionably, the
casting of Claude Rains
as Jack Griffin in The Invisible Man (his first ance gains much from the playing of Claude
significant role in a motion picture) offers Rains, whose quirky/menacing performance
some delightful moments. The playful, as the Invisible One matches the black comemocking quality in Griffin’s voice, especially dic tone of the script. It seems unlikely that the
during his confrontations with the towns- presence of Boris Karloff could have improved
folk, conveys the impression of one who on this, regardless of how the project might
is gradually becoming unhinged. Griffin’s have been tailored to suit his talents.
ongoing cycle of madness is also revealed by
the gentle ease with which he contemplates WereWolf of London
mass murder. By contrast, his The early publicity releases for this film
explosive rant at the villagers promised a real treat for horror fans—an equal
who intrude upon his privacy matchup between the two Titans of Terror,
(“You’re crazy to know who I Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi. But it was not
am, aren’t you!”) reveals an to be. Many changes occurred during the early
unchecked inner rage. The stages of production, including a recasting of
frustrated romance angle of the leads and the demotion of the film to midthe plot gains from Rains’ level programmer status. As a result, WereWolf
presence as well; in all likeli- of London would garner a reputation as one of
hood, he is more believable as the lesser entries in Universal’s initial cycle of
a love interest than Boris Kar- horror films. Would this opinion have held
loff would have been. Finally, true if the promised matchup between the
there is the unexpected benefit horror legends had become a reality?
of novelty casting. The curios- The most common complaint levied
ity factor involving a character against WereWolf of London is the unsympawho remains unseen through- thetic performance of Henry Hull as botanist
out much of the film takes on turned lycanthrope, Wilfred Glendon. The
added dimension with the fault is not entirely Hull’s—with a script that
casting of Rains, who was then casts him as the third leg of a love triangle
a new and unfamiliar face.
(with the much younger Valerie Hobson as
The Invisible Man remains his wife), the deck is stacked against him
one of the most satisfying of from the start. And, truth be told, Hobson’s
all the Universal horror films. character, who flirts with infidelity from the
It is, arguably, director James opening moments of the film, does even less
One can only imagine what The Invisible Man would have
been like if Boris Karloff had starred in James Whale’s
Whale’s most effective mating to endear herself to the audience. But Hull’s
1933 film. (Courtesy of Photofest)
of horror and humor. This bal- frosty demeanor complicates an already
SUMMER 2011
39
Early publicity for 1935’s WereWolf of London promised a Karloff/Lugosi matchup in the film; however,
Henry Hull landed the title role and Lugosi was nowhere to be seen. (Courtesy of Photofest)
shaky bit of casting. A fine actor in character
parts, Hull fails to generate the charisma
that is necessary for a film protagonist. As
a result, the film’s sense of tragedy never
unfolds as effectively as it should.
WereWolf of London presented missed opportunities in other areas as well. The story is
an odd mix of horror and sci-fi elements that
struggle to fit together comfortably. Comedy
relief is so prominent that suspense takes a
back seat for scenes in succession. And why,
oh why, does the script fail to capitalize on the
scenario that is every horror fan’s fantasy—a
werewolf versus werewolf battle to the death?
The casting of Karloff in the Glendon
role addresses some, but not all, of these
issues. Karloff indeed had a knack for
portrayals that balanced menace and sympathy; one look at his work in Frankenstein
and The Walking Dead confirms this. But as
a love interest, even for a relationship that
is waning, Karloff seems like an odd choice.
Given their age discrepancy, Karloff and
Hobson surely would have had their hands
full trying to create any believable on-screen
chemistry. Script problems also remain an
open issue. Unless some major story retooling had been done, Karloff’s attempts to
salvage WereWolf of London could have been
as problematic as Hull’s had been.
The other potential cast change offers
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MONSTERS FROM THE VAULT #29
food for thought. Warner Oland does a credible job in the pivotal role of Dr. Yogami, who
infects Glendon with lycanthropy. His sadeyed, soft-spoken turn as Universal’s first
werewolf is unique and interesting. But if
you took a poll of horror fans, odds are they
would prefer to see Bela Lugosi’s take on the
role. A more dynamic actor than Oland, Lugosi would have given Yogami a darker edge.
Dialogue that sounds forlorn and regretful
coming from Oland would have resonated
as positively menacing when voiced by Lugosi. And—admit it—who among us would
not want to have seen Boris and Bela at each
other’s throats in the film’s climax, the full
moon bringing out the beast in both of them?
WereWolf of London remains one of
Universal’s missed opportunities. The film
is impressive in moments but fails to come
together as a satisfying whole. With Karloff
and Lugosi in the cast, it may still have
fallen short of the standards established by
Universal’s top-shelf thrillers, but it might
have been more readily embraced by its
audience, both then and now.
Dracula’s Daughter
Looking at the early story treatments
for this film, one cannot help but marvel at
what might have been. With a major supporting role for Bela Lugosi, direction by James
Whale, and a script chock-full of disturbing
undercurrents, Dracula’s Daughter might have
been one of cinema’s all-time shockers! It
didn’t work out that way, of course. The version of Dracula’s Daughter that was eventually
released is regarded as a modest, though still
satisfying, entry into the Universal horror
canon. But if any classic horror film might
have benefited from some creative rethinking, this is certainly a candidate.
The initial concept for Dracula’s Daughter was so far removed from the final result
that, on first glance, it is difficult to compare
the two. In an early draft, penned jointly by
Whale and R.C. Sherriff (and recently published in book form by BearManor Media),
Lugosi was to have reprised his role as King
of Vampires via a lengthy prologue that
would have explained the curse of the Draculas. This treatment presents the imaginative
premise that a wizard (a possible role for
Boris Karloff) was responsible for transforming the Count’s court into foul creatures of the
night and inflicting upon Dracula his eternal
thirst for human blood. Although the script
was clearly over-the-top (Whale reportedly
had a disdain for the project and wished to
scuttle it), it makes for fascinating reading.
Bela Lugosi was so intrinsically right for
the role of Dracula it is a pity that Universal
never gave him a chance to reprise the role
in a vehicle worthy of his talents.
For this reason alone, horror fans are
inclined to look at Dracula’s Daughter
with a tinge of regret. Even with
limited screen time, the thought of
seeing a cape-clad Lugosi at his peak
once more is enough to make dedicated horror fans bemoan this film’s
eventual fate. (If you need convincing, look at the candid face-to-face
photos of Lugosi and Gloria Holden
taken during production. So close,
yet so far away.) However, one caution should be noted—it is possible
that the dynamic Lugosi might have
overshadowed the film’s distaff lead
as the primary menace, upsetting the
balance of a story that was intended
to put the focus on Dracula’s progeny. After seeing the Vampire King
strut his stuff, any night creature of
lesser screen presence would have
been a major letdown.
Gloria Holden as the evil offspring in Universal’s 1935 film Dracula’s Daughter. (Courtesy of Photofest)
In regard to director James
Whale, it may be fair to challenge the
assumption that he would have necessarily the time of Bride of Frankenstein, the parody intrinsic to Bram Stoker’s character. This,
been an asset to this project. By 1935, Whale is getting awfully ripe. Perhaps James Whale more than any other criteria, could have
was clearly tiring of his association with hor- was close to jumping the shark. It is signifi- been the determining factor in the success
ror films. As evidenced by The Old Dark House cant to note, too, that Whale did not direct of Dracula’s Daughter as it might have been.
and The Invisible Man, Whale was slowly but another horror film after 1935, although one Perhaps it is not fair to grouse over
surely succumbing to a temptation to send up presumes he certainly had ample opportu- Dracula’s Daughter, which, after all, does
the material, playing it for laughs as well as nity to do so. For a Whale-directed Dracula’s hold up as one of the more respectable horthrills. The trend is not fatal; indeed one can Daughter to succeed, it would have had to ror sequels of the 1930s. If it is any consolaargue that these two films benefit from this tread a very fine line between horror and tion to horror fans, the early concept for the
whistling in the graveyard approach. But by comedy, lest it undermine the dark appeal film, with its depictions of physical torture,
sexual degradation, and parallels between vampirism and drug addiction,
Early story treatments for Dracula’s Daughter had
Bela Lugosi reprising his role as the Count, with
would have never made it past the
James Whale onboard in the director’s chair. Of
newly empowered Breen office of 1936.
course, this never played out, and Lugosi didn’t
Surely, any discussion of an alternatewear a cape on film again until 1943’s Return of the
Vampire. (Courtesy of Photofest)
universe version of Dracula’s Daughter
must be framed with this in mind. But
perhaps, in our wildest fantasies, there
was a moment when Count Dracula
reached out to haunt the dreams of his
unholy offspring and, by extension,
our dreams as well. That could have
been something really special.
Son of Frankenstein
The importance of Son of Frankenstein is often overlooked by those
who chronicle film history. Coupled
with a successful double bill re-release
of Dracula and Frankenstein, Son was
instrumental in breathing new life into
the dormant horror genre of the late
1930s and paved the way for Universal’s resurgence as a fright film factory
in the decade to come. One of the joys of
this entry in the lucrative Frankenstein
series was the casting of familiar faces
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41
countless 1940s thrillers. Frankenstein to a close.
As a result, the role of Today, Peter Lorre is remembered as a
Wolf van Frankenstein distinctive character actor who could conwould, by necessity, vincingly project a creepy on-screen persona
have required some re- without even trying. This is true despite his
tooling to accommodate horror credits numbering but a handful. Son
Lorre’s image as one of Frankenstein might have changed that, for
of the screen’s natural- better or for worse. It could have opened
born bad guys. Perhaps the door to a lengthy stay at Hollywood’s
a more active role in chief procurer of monster movies. But it
the reawakening of the might also have cheated moviegoers out of
monster or some note- singular supporting performances in some
worthy skullduggery of Hollywood’s classic mainstream movies.
of his own would have Our loss was film history’s gain.
befitted Peter Lorre’s
admission into the Fran- Black Friday
kenstein family tree.
By 1940, Universal was looking for ways
Basil Rathbone, de- to reinvent its tried-and-true formula for
spite his overwrought horror movies. Black Friday, released that
performance, brought year, was the result of this new approach.
a likable presence to his Noteworthy for the appearance of horror
role as the offspring of icons Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi and for
horror cinema’s great- its quirky combination of crime and horror
est misguided medico. elements, the film also enjoys another distincRathbone’s matinee idol tion—it is remembered for one of the most
looks provided a much- curious casting switcheroos of them all.
Peter Lorre as Wolf Frankenstein in 1939’s Son of Frankenstein?
That was the original plan. (Courtesy of Photofest)
needed sense of normal- As has been widely reported, Karloff
cy in a story dominated was originally cast to play the dual role of
Boris Karloff, Bela Lugosi, Lionel Atwill, and by misshapen monsters and omnipresent mild-mannered Prof. Kingsley and crime
Basil Rathbone in the film’s key roles. But shadows. And behind his outward ap- boss Red Cannon, two radically different
what if Peter Lorre had been cast in the role of pearance is just the hint of swashbuckling personalities who share the same body, thanks
Wolf van Frankenstein as originally planned? derring-do that comes in most handy at the to the brain-grafting work of Dr. Sovac (to be
By 1938, Lorre’s film career was at a film’s finale. Try as he might, it is hard to played by Bela Lugosi). But Karloff reportedly
crossroads. Laboring at Fox Studios in the image Peter Lorre pulling off the Douglas had cold feet over his ability to pull off the
Mr. Moto detective series, the celebrated actor Fairbanks-like exploits that bring Son of gangster role and opted instead to play the
feared that he might become stuck
in the artistic hell of second-string
While Basil Rathbone ultimately starred as Wolf Frankenstein
in Son of Frankenstein, many feel the film’s true star was Bela
programmers. Opportunity, in the
Lugosi as Ygor. (Courtesy of Photofest)
form of career-making supporting
roles for Warner Bros., was still a
few years away. So the prospect
of appearing in a horror film,
which could have easily become
yet another professional dead end,
was probably not on his short list
of career objectives. Time would
change that, of course, as Lorre
made a number of genre-related
appearances in the 1940s. But at this
stage, Lorre was probably as happy
as anyone that a chance to share the
silver screen with the Frankenstein
Monster passed him by.
Had Lorre appeared in Son of
Frankenstein, the tone of the film
would have been decidedly different. Lorre’s screen presence was
dynamic and, more often than not,
hinted at some underlying twisted
persona. This quality would serve
him well in The Maltese Falcon, Casablanca, The Mask of Dimitrios, and
42
MONSTERS FROM THE VAULT #29
part of overzealous researcher
Sovac. Universal hired character actor Stanley Ridges for
the Kingsley/Cannon role,
who, incidentally, turns in
the performance of a lifetime.
Lugosi, meanwhile, was demoted to rival gang leader
Eric Marnay and, incredibly,
does not share a single scene
with fellow headliner Karloff.
Lugosi’s subordinate part
is all the more disappointing when viewed through the
“What if?” looking glass. The
character of Sovac, with his “all
for the cause of science” motivation, was tailor-made for the
flamboyant actor. In addition,
the compassionate moments
between Sovac and Kingsley
could have provided a glimpse
of a Lugosi seldom captured on
film. Karloff’s unwillingness
to take on the role originally
slated for him is understandable, given the awkwardness
he displays in such early crimedriven talkies as Scarface and Behind the Mask.
But however uncomfortable Karloff might
have been on-screen, it surely would have been
preferable to hearing Lugosi’s thick Hungarian
accent mangle the streetwise prose of a guntotin’ Al Capone wannabe.
Before we throw out the baby with Black
Boris Karloff was originally cast to play the
dual role of Professor Kingsley/Red Cannon in
Black Friday, but he opted to play Dr. Sovac
instead. Stanley Ridges (left) ended up in the
Kingsley/Cannon role. (Courtesy of Photofest)
Friday’s miscast bathwater, let us consider the
performance Stanley Ridges gives as Kingsley/Cannon. Ridges’ transformation between
the two characters (aided by the minimalist
makeup of Jack Pierce) is so convincing that
viewers are easily fooled into thinking it is
the work of two different actors. His Type-A-
personality take on a big city tough guy is so
spot-on it is a wonder Ridges did not find a
permanent niche as a specialist in film noirs.
Watching such an assured performance in a
second-rung time killer like Black Friday is an
unexpected delight.
Black Friday was fated to be a minor film
regardless of how its casting issues
Had Karloff played the Kingsley/Cannon role in Black Friday as
were resolved. The movie’s lurid,
planned, it would have opened up for Bela Lugosi the Dr. Sovac
potboiler plot and modest budget
part, seemingly tailor-made for him. (Courtesy of Photofest)
ensures that. Perhaps it would have
earned a special spot in the hearts of
horror fans had its original teaming of
Karloff and Lugosi been carried off as
originally planned. Yet it is refreshing
to see a new face in a Universal badguy role, especially when the playing
is handled with such panache as
Stanley Ridges in Black Friday. So, in
recognition of the surviving members
of the Stanley Ridges Fan Club, rate
this one a toss-up, as what was lost
would have surely balanced out what
would have been gained.
Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man
The concept of the monster rally
was yet another innovation that Universal championed in the horror film
genre. Although often on the receiving end of critical scorn, the studio’s
monstrous matchups of the 1940s
provided good box office and remain,
decades later, high on the list of all-time
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43
The original cast list for Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man had Lon Chaney, Jr.,
penciled in to play not only Lawrence Talbot, the ill-fated Wolf Man, but also
Frankenstein’s Monster. (Courtesy of Photofest)
fan favorites. Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man,
the first of Universal’s “more monsters, all the
time” gambit, provided the template for all the
fur-flying, fang-baring fun to follow. And in a
twist that now seems as fantastic as the film’s
Saturday matinee scenario, the original cast
list had Lon Chaney, Jr., penciled in as both
the Wolf Man and Frankenstein’s Monster.
Universal, hoping to capitalize on the
memory of Chaney’s famous father, was busy
promoting the young actor as the studio’s
“master character creator.” His horror film
credentials had already been established
with a memorable portrayal as doomed
Larry Talbot in The Wolf Man. Appearances
in The Ghost of Frankenstein, Son of Dracula,
the various Mummy sequels, and Universal’s
Inner Sanctum series soon followed. How
well Chaney fared in these various roles is
a subject that sparks heated debates among
horror film fans. But in terms of numbers
alone, Lon Chaney, Jr., was clearly the face
of Universal’s horror franchise in the 1940s.
Seen in this context, the proposed dou44
MONSTERS FROM THE VAULT #29
ble casting of Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man
was both logical and predictable. Chaney
had the character of the Wolf Man nailed
down to such a degree that the selection of
any other actor for the role was unthinkable.
His donning of the bolts and headpiece in
the previous year’s The Ghost of Frankenstein
made him the likely choice for the competing
monster role as well. But as the production
date neared, budgetary issues and the logistics of complicated camera/matte work
forced the studio to rethink this admittedly
awkward strategy. Universal eventually
pulled the plug on the trick-casting ploy
and signed 60-year-old Bela Lugosi as the
Frankenstein Monster a mere week before
the cameras were slated to roll.
Before considering an alternate Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man, we must first
address the last-minute production decisions
that hung like fog over the finished film.
After principal shooting wrapped, the movie
was extensively reedited to eliminate the
monster’s speaking voice. This last-minute
rework made a hash out of Bela Lugosi’s
performance, which adhered to the script’s
concept of a blind and weakened monster
who spoke with the voice of Ygor, the result
of a brain transplant gone awry in The Ghost of
Frankenstein. The result—Lugosi flails about,
his mouth voicing nonexistent dialogue for
no discernable reason. Lugosi’s stint was for
years ridiculed as the worst Frankenstein
Monster performance on film by viewers
who had no knowledge of Frankenstein Meets
the Wolf Man’s post-production tinkering.
Modern genre fans are somewhat more
forgiving in their assessment, but it is fair
to say that Lugosi still gets few nominations
in the category of filmdom’s favorite Frankenstein Monster. Such a post-production
debacle could have just as easily undermined
a Chaney performance as the Monster.
Another shadow loomed over this production—Chaney’s first go-round as Frankenstein’s Monster had been received with
mixed reviews. The Ghost of Frankenstein had
given Chaney ample opportunity to portray
been for theatergoers
of the 1940s to have
watched Boris Karloff
tread the boards in the
original production of
Arsenic and Old Lace. A
major hit of the 1941
Broadway season, the
original run of Arsenic
played for an impressive 1,444 performances.
And if Hollywood history had unfolded just a
bit differently, Karloff’s
standout role might have
been captured on film for
the entire world to see.
When director
Frank Capra adapted
the film version of Arsenic for Warner Bros.,
concessions were made
to accommodate the
theatrical production,
which was still ongoing.
Boris Karloff as Jonathan Brewster in the Broadway production
Arsenic and Old Lace. (Courtesy of Photofest)
Co-stars Josephine Hull,
Jean Adair, and John Althe monster with menace, cunning, and pa- exander were allowed to take leave from the
thos, little of which come across on film. Mod- play, but not Karloff, who was both the main
ern film writers typically bemoan Chaney’s draw and a primary investor. To replace
Monster as dull and lifeless. (Chaney sup- him, Capra cast character actor Raymond
porters contend this was the fault of director Massey, best known to movie fans for his
Erle C. Kenton, who instructed Chaney to Oscar® nominated role as the 16th presiimbue the monster with robotic qualities. dent in 1940’s Abe Lincoln in Illinois. Massey
Being diplomatic, I concede that both actor gives a fine performance as Arsenic’s
and director share in the blame.)
primary menace, especially in scenes he
On the upside, it is possible that Franken- shares with fellow heavy Peter Lorre. But
stein Meets the Wolf Man could have allowed film fans have always wondered—what if
Chaney to atone for his prior
Frankenstein Monster performance and live up to the appellation that the studio had thrust
upon him. Nothing would
have pleased Universal more
than to establish in the public
eye Lon Chaney’s Monster as
a worthy successor to Karloff’s
original. Certainly, the motivation was there for both parties.
If post-production tampering did not pull the rug out
from under him, it is possible
that, given careful direction, a
Chaney double performance
in Frankenstein Meets the Wolf
Man might have cemented his
claim as the horror star of the
World War II years. But that,
my friends, is a big, big “if.”
Arsenic and Old Lace
What a treat it must have
Boris Karloff had played the part?
Massey imbues the role of Jonathan
Brewster with sinister and violent underpinnings. The laughter his character elicits
is mostly of the nervous variety. Even the
show-stopping line “He said I looked like
Boris Karloff!” comes off more as a disquieting, matter-of-fact observation than the selfreferential in-joke it was intended to be. The
look of this long-lost Brewster brother—his
face is a ghastly map of scars and stitches—
only adds to the unnerving quality of the
character. When others make droll comments
about Jonathan’s childhood tendency to pull
the wings off flies, Massey keeps the intensity
turned on high, his eyes burning like hellish
laser beams. As a result, his character is as
dark as the shadows Capra uses to accentuate
the film’s foreboding mood.
The mere presence of Karloff in the
cast would have given the film more of a
sardonic tone. Lacing horror with humor
is now acknowledged as a Karloff specialty
although his film work up to this point had
shown little evidence of it. In fact, it was Arsenic that provided the breakthrough, showing that the screen’s premier bogeyman
could handle the funny stuff effortlessly, a
skill that would later prove valuable in the
television era. And, obviously, Karloff could
hold his own in the menace department.
Watching Karloff find the balance between
laughs and shivers was always entertaining, especially since his interpretation of
Jonathan Brewster reportedly relied on a
knowing smirk as much as an evil leer.
Perhaps the biggest benefit to a Karloff
appearance in Arsenic would have been to
Raymond Massey stepped into the role of Jonathan
Brewster in Frank Capra’s film version of Arsenic
and Old Lace. (Courtesy of Photofest)
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45
observe his chemistry with the rest of the
original Broadway cast. Playgoers of the
1940s knew the joy of seeing Karloff’s Jonathan Brewster menace dear old Aunt Abby
and Aunt Martha or stare nonplussed at the
antics of Cousin Teddy, the Brewsters’ most
delusional relative. And what fun would it
have been to see Karloff and Peter Lorre together again, their characters jointly planning
to continue their bloodletting ways on the
streets of Brooklyn. Of course, it is possible
that with Karloff’s name in the cast, Lorre’s
contribution might have been deemed unnecessary. With Cary Grant already signed
as a headliner, a budget-conscious studio like
Warner Bros. might have been anxious to cut
costs wherever it could.
Karloff’s Arsenic performance later
made it to television in three separate productions—The Ford Theater Hour (1948), The Best
of Broadway (1955), and the Hallmark Hall of
Fame (1962). A complete copy of the latter is
currently available for appraisal. Although
he is considerably older at this point, Karloff
still manages to evoke some of the magic
that made the Great White Way sit up and
take notice. While Raymond Massey acquits
himself well in the film version of Arsenic and
Old Lace, it is a pity that Karloff’s legendary
performance was not captured on film when
the chance presented itself. It remains one of
Hollywood’s lost opportunities.
House of Frankenstein/House of Dracula
Fans of Universal horror love to debate
such esoteric prospects as “who was the
Bela Lugosi was considered for the role of
Dracula in 1944’s House of Frankenstein,
but he was committed to a West Coast stage
version of Arsenic and Old Lace and was unavailable. (Courtesy of Photofest)
46
MONSTERS FROM THE VAULT #29
better Dracula?” A small but
fervent band of the horror faithful insist on bestowing the title
to John Carradine on the basis
of the actor’s work in Universal’s mid-1940s’ monster rallies
House of Frankenstein and House
of Dracula. For such a comparison to be valid, one must image
how Bela Lugosi, the original
Dracula himself, might have
fared in these end-of-the-line
horror programmers.
The scenario is not that
farfetched; Universal reportedly entertained the prospect
of hiring Lugosi for the Dracula
role when House of Frankenstein
Jean Adair (left) and Josephine Hull (right), cast members of
began production in early 1944.
the Broadway production of Arsenic and Old Lace, were given
Lugosi, however, was coma leave of absence to be in Capra’s film version of the play,
mitted to a West Coast stage
but not Karloff, as he was the main draw for the Broadway
production. (Courtesy of Photofest)
engagement of Arsenic and
Old Lace and was unavailable
when filming commenced. In
his place, Universal opted for
former Fox contract player John Carradine. led to appearances in low-rent titles like Isle
A colorful and well-regarded character actor, of Forgotten Sins, Revenge of the Zombies, and
Carradine had given notable performances Voodoo Man. For Carradine, work on the
in such film classics as The Prisoner of Shark modestly budgeted House of Frankenstein
Island, Stagecoach, Drums Along the Mohawk, and House of Dracula must have seemed like
and The Grapes of Wrath. But by the mid- a second shot at the big leagues.
1940s, Carradine’s professional life had hit Carradine’s youthful appearance (he
a rough patch. Struggling to keep his prized was 38 at the time but looks even younger)
Shakespearean troupe afloat, the former John adds a spark of virility to his Dracula perforFord stock player was accepting any and all mance. A sleek and sexy bloodsucker, Carjob offers that came along, which inevitably radine uses his hypnotic eyes and melodious
voice to great advantage, especially when he
turns his undead charms on intended victims Anne Gwynne and Martha O’Driscoll.
This is one Dracula who could believably
have his way with the ladies. But for all his
seductiveness, there is a quality about Carradine’s vampire performance that some find
mannered and cold. Displaying the rigid
formality of a stage magician—an impression
reinforced by his ever-present top hat—Carradine’s vampire is well versed in the social
graces but lacks the personal magnetism
that a true King of the Undead must possess.
Perhaps Carradine’s intent was to give his
Dracula an alien, otherworldly quality that
noticeably set him apart from the living. On
that level, Carradine scores a bulls-eye, leaving one to wonder how the actor might have
handled the role in a major studio adaptation
of Bram Stoker’s vampire thriller.
By contrast, Lugosi’s work in 1944’s The
Return of the Vampire provides a primer in
how he might have portrayed the Dracula
role in the House films. Although his character is named Armand Tesla, it is clear
Lugosi is channeling the performance that
won him fame a decade earlier. He even
has a Renfield-like sidekick, played by Matt
Willis, who is kept in thrall to his “master”
by preternatural means (in this case, the
curse of lycanthropy). Age and impending
illness are factors at this point; Lugosi, now
well past his prime, is nowhere near as energetic a vampire as Carradine would be. His
romantic appeal has also ebbed, making his
attacks on vulnerable young women appear
less of a seduction and more of a corruption.
But though his physical menace has diminished, the force of his personality remains
strikingly vivid. Lugosi’s scenes with Frieda
Inescort, the film’s vampire expert/authority figure, underscore this point. In both
dialogue and screen presence, Lugosi holds
his own as he engages Inescort’s character in
the obligatory “good versus evil” confrontation. Moments like this lift The Return of the
Vampire above its programmer origins and
remind us why Lugosi made such an impact
as Dracula both onstage and in film.
While we are at it, it is fun to speculate
on what impact the House films might have
had on Lugosi’s checkered film career.
By this point in his life, the die had been
pretty much cast for the elderly horror
icon. Any ambitions Lugosi may have once
harbored toward being a mainstream star
disappeared once he became stuck with the
“spook man” label. Even his best days with
Universal Studios were now far behind
him. Further hindering his career options
was that Hollywood’s cycle of classic horror films, one of the most reliable genres of
filmdom’s Golden Age, was coming to an
end. It is unlikely, therefore, that a Lugosi
appearance in House of Frankenstein/House
of Dracula would have altered his career
path. The only consolation prize for Lugosi
would have been a chance to once again
don the vampire’s cape and lay further
claim to his public identify as the definitive
Dracula. That and the cash, of course.
John Carradine’s Dracula performance
is more than adequate for the programmerstyled monster movies that became Universal’s stock in trade in the 1940s. His smarmy,
manipulative charm adds uniqueness to the
ever-shifting mythos of Universal Horror. The
fact that Bela Lugosi never had an opportunity
to reprise his signature role in a big-budget
sequel is indeed regrettable. But it is doubtful
that his late-in-the-day appearances in a pair
of Saturday afternoon shockfests would have
improved the films, or his personal fortunes,
to any measurable degree.
So there you have it—one author’s musings regarding many of our favorite horror
films as they might have existed in an alternate
universe. History is a chain of events, and the
alteration of one tiny detail can have implications that ripple out far and wide. Remember
that as you watch a classic shocker from the
1930s or ’40s, and try to imagine Conrad Veidt,
Lon Chaney, or Peter Lorre in ways you’ve
never seen them before.
REFERENCES:
Blake, Michael. (1996). Lon Chaney: The Man
Behind The Thousand Faces. Vestal Press.
Mank, Gregory William. (1981). It’s Alive!
The Classic Cinema Saga of Frankenstein. A.S.
Barnes & Company, Inc.
Mank, Gregory William. (2009). Bela Lugosi and Boris Karloff: The Expanded Story
of a Haunting Collaboration, with a Complete
Filmography of Their Films Together (Rev. ed.).
McFarland & Company.
Riley, Philip J. (1989). Frankenstein: Universal
Filmscripts Series. MagicImage Filmbooks.
Riley, Philip J. (1989). Son of Frankenstein:
Universal Filmscripts Series Volume 3. MagicImage Filmbooks.
Riley, Philip J. (1990). Dracula: The Original
1931 Shooting Script. MagicImage Filmbooks.
Riley, Philip J. (1990). Frankenstein Meets the
Wolf Man: Universal Filmscripts Series Volume
5. MagicImage Filmbooks.
Riley, Philip J. (2009). Dracula’s Daughter: An
Alternate History for Classic Film Monsters.
BearManor Media.
Skal, David J. (2004). Hollywood Gothic: The
Tangled Web of Dracula from Novel to Stage to
Screen. (Rev. ed.). Faber & Faber.
Weaver, Tom; Brunas, Michael; Brunas, John.
(2007). Universal Horrors: The Studio’s Classic
Films, 1931-1946 (Rev. ed.). McFarland &
Company.
The writer wishes to thank Michael Blake
and Ted Newsom for e-mail correspondence
that contributed to the writing of this article.
John Carradine eventually was cast in the role of Count Dracula in Universal’s
Monster Rally films House of Frankenstein (1944) and House of Dracula (1945).
Here, he seems more interested in leading lady Anne Gwynne than in the House
of Frankenstein script. (Courtesy of Photofest)
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