By Gary D. Rhodes.
Even if it is not at the artistic level of many of those produced in the months, years, and decades that followed, The Phantom exemplifies ambition over vision. Its speed of production placed it in a pole position, independent of competition, let alone studios, a position not of giant leaps for a genre, but of locomotion that has gone on to move everyone….”
Halloween is not only an annual celebration, but also the title of a famous film, John Carpenter’s independent horror movie of 1978. The “Night He Came Home,” its tagline proclaimed, a night that led to day after day of producers and exhibitors depositing large checks at their banks. Halloween was an enormous financial success, spawning a franchise that has continued to the present day. But it was hardly the first indie horror film to become a box-office hit, its predecessors including George Romero’s Night of the Living Dead (1968) and Tobe Hooper’s The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974). Nor would Halloween be the last, from Sean S. Cunningham’s Friday the 13th (1980) and Eduardo Sanchez and Daniel Myrick’s The Blair Witch Project (1999) to Oren Peli’s Paranormal Activity (2007) and Damien Leone’s Terrifier (2016).
Fascinating films all, films that probably would not have been produced by major studios. Independent cinema allows for experimentation and exploration and, for that matter, exploitation. Indie cinema has always been the little filmmaker against the big system: Edgar G. Ulmer and Allen Baron; John Cassavetes and Leonard Kastle; Jim Jarmusch and Harmony Korine. Or even filmmakers who leave the studio system, like Charlie Chaplin and Orson Welles. Or a director like Francis Ford Coppola making the indie Dementia 13 (1963) before making studio films like The Godfather (1972) before making the indie Megalopolis (2024). All is possible in towns with tinsel, where the ultimate outsider can stand next to the ultimate insider, where one can quickly become the other. No greater example exists than Carl Laemmle, whose Independent Moving Pictures Company (IMP) was quite the little devil when challenging Thomas Edison’s Trust, the Motion Picture Patents Company, during the nickelodeon era. Laemmle went on to found Universal Pictures.
One can argue about when horror movies began – from pre-cinema devices like Pepper’s Ghost and spooky magic lantern slides to that fascinating quartet of moving pictures produced by Edison in 1895: Execution of Mary, Queen of Scots; Joan of Arc (aka Burning of Joan of Arc), Lynching Scene, and Scalping Scene (aka Indian Scalping Scene). Each presented images of bloody death and gore. Collectively, they were advertised as the “Chamber of Horrors,” a reference to their adaptation of popular waxworks.[1] From that point forward, thanks to the likes of Georges Méliès, Segundo de Chomon, Alice Guy-Blaché, and many others, horror-themed films illuminated screens across the globe.
But films about horror and “horror films” are arguably two different things. Enter Carl Laemmle to trump Edison once again, even if it was largely due to his son, Carl Laemmle, Jr. Greenlighting Tod Browning’s Dracula (1931) and James Whale’s Frankenstein (1931), “Junior” Laemmle ignited a cinematic cycle in the Great Depression, one populated by vampires, mummies, werewolves, and mad scientists. And for the first time, the genre gained its name. After Dracula’s release in February 1931, the press and audiences dubbed it a “horror film” (and, by extension, a “horror movie”). The term became ubiquitous after Frankenstein’s release near the end of the same year.[2] Thus the horror movie was born, at least in terms of a clear, recognizable, and repeated name.
Following Universal’s success were various independent filmmakers. Victor Halperin’s White Zombie became a huge hit in the summer of 1932, the first feature-length film about zombies. Frank Strayer’s The Monster Walks (1932) and The Vampire Bat (1933) led to film after film, thanks to producers like Sam Katzman in the forties and Roger Corman in the fifties, sixties, and beyond. Some of these movies became famous, like Irwin S. Yeaworth’s The Blob (1958). Some became infamous, like Ed Wood’s Plan 9 from Outer Space (1958). Others were experimental, like John Parker’s Dementia (1955), or taboo-breaking, like Herschell Gordon Lewis’ Blood Feast (1963). On a budget and then on the screen. Into immortality or into obscurity.
Hollywood’s very first indie horror movie, The Phantom (1931) certainly falls into the latter category, so forgotten that it was absent from the first two editions of George E. Turner and Michael H. Price’s Forgotten Horrors (1979/1986). When The Phantom finally appeared in the third (The Definitive Edition, 1999), the authors overlooked its crucial place in horror film history. Independent company Artclass moved into production quickly after Dracula’s hit premiere, once industry trades announced Universal’s plans for additional horror movies.[3] On April 5, 1931, Variety wrongly proclaimed “U Has Horror Cycle All to Self.”[4]
Other producers were eyeballing the genre, eager to situate horror on horror’s head, but Artclass was the first to take action. By mid-March 1931, only a month after Dracula’s premiere, The Phantom’s director Alvin J. Neitz (aka Allan James, aka Alan James) was already casting actors.[5] Later that year, Variety awarded Neitz its “quickie championship” for having shot The Phantom in only five days.[6] Whether Artclass was comprised of art or class is debatable, but the company’s speed is undeniable.
Guinn “Big Boy” Williams portrayed The Phantom’s lead male hero, journalist Dick Mallory. A 1931 newspaper article dubbed Williams “one of the most romantic figures in Hollywood’s screen colony.”[7] He wasn’t. Nor was he suited to playing a newspaper reporter, being so very much unlike Hollywood’s smart-talking and fast-walking journalists, those played by the likes of Lee Tracy, Wallace Ford, Glenda Farrell, and Rosalind Russell. He was far better suited to the westerns in which he usually appeared. Williams would actually been well-cast as the yokel that journalist Hildy Johnson (Rosalind Russell) nearly marries in His Girl Friday (Howard Hawks, 1940).
Silent film star Allene Ray played Mallory’s love interest, Ruth Hampton. Here we can see the wisdom of an indie producer hiring a star past his or her prime, but still possessive of a notable name. Victor Halperin would do much the same when he cast Madge Bellamy as the title character of White Zombie. Ray had been known for starring in action serials of the twenties; that history served her well in the narrative world of The Phantom, even if her squeaky voice did not.
True to Dracula, Frankenstein’s Monster, and their descendants – in which the actors who played them are better remembered than their heroic counterparts – The Phantom’s most fascinating cast member is Sheldon Lewis, famed bad guy of silent serials, having played The Clutching Hand in The Exploits of Elaine (1914) as well as the eponymous The Iron Claw (1916). While he portrayed many villains, including in Seven Footprints to Satan (Benjamin Christensen, 1929) and The Monster Walks, Lewis might be best remembered for starring as the titular characters in the “other” Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde of 1920, meaning J. Charles Haydon’s version for the Pioneer Film Corporation (as opposed to John S. Robertson’s version with John Barrymore at Paramount Pictures).
Exactly when Alvin J. Neitz wrote The Phantom is unknown, but he likely first conceived of it as akin to Roland West’s The Bat (1926) and its talkie remake, The Bat Whispers (1930), as well as Alfred Santell’s The Gorilla (1927) and its talkie remake, Bryan Foy’s The Gorilla (1930). As for the villain’s name, Neitz might have chosen “The Phantom” to evoke Universal’s The Phantom of the Opera (1925), which the studio had reissued with a soundtrack in 1930. More than anything else, though, Neitz’s menacing character dressed in black recalls the serial villains of the 1910s, those that made Sheldon Lewis famous.
The Phantom opens with high action, a death row criminal’s jailbreak, his jump onto moving train, and his escape onto a rope ladder dangling from an airplane. The images appear to be recycled from the silent era, perhaps from one of Neitz’s earlier serials. We might presume the criminal is The Phantom, but if so, his real name and face would be known to authorities, who – until the film’s conclusion – have no idea who the Phantom really is.[8] The desire for an exciting opening was clearly more important than narrative logic.
From there, the story shifts into an old dark house thriller, complete with a suspicious butler and surprisingly impressive sets, particularly the living room and bedroom of the Hampton estate. They are so great that Artclass must have rented them from a major studio. And then there’s a spooky staircase that could have been constructed specifically for The Phantom, lit so dimly that it was as effective stylistically as it was financially. With his dark hat and cloak, Lewis’s villain looks sufficiently creepy. During one important scene in the film, we hear the eerie ticking of a grandfather clock as District Attorney John Hampton (Wilfred Lucas) awaits the threatened arrival of The Phantom, who is out for revenge.[9]
Cinematographer Jack Draper (credited onscreen as Lauron Draper) was quite capable, as many of his later films attest, including such horror movies as Herencia Macabra (1940), El Fantasma de la Opereta (1960), La Llorona (1960), and El Mundo de los Vampires (1961). But his work on The Phantom is largely dull, probably due to time constraints, with much of the film unfolding in long shots.
But Draper takes little blame as compared to the wooden acting of the lead players and, worst of all, a dull story for its first half-hour, one that moves at such a glacially-slow pace as to place pressure on the term “running time.” It’s easy to imagine modern viewers turning off The Phantom before reaching its second half, in which the story transforms into something unexpected and at times wonderfully bizarre, so much so that it’s possible Neitz rewrote the final half of his script to take advantage of Dracula’s success and its announced successor.
On March 16, 1931, the Hollywood Reporter published news that Universal would produce Frankenstein.[10] Rumors about it had probably circulated in Hollywood for a few days prior. It’s entirely possible that Artclass decided to make The Phantom not only as a result of Dracula’s success, but also that Neitz revised his script to turn the second half of his film into a mad scientist story similar to Frankenstein, to the extent that one of Neitz’s character names, Dr. Weldon (William Gould), is reminiscent of Dr. Waldman in Mary Shelley’s 1818 novel.
Just over half-way through The Phantom, Dick Mallory and Ruth Hampton arrive at Dr. Weldon’s sanitarium, entering with the ruse that Ruth needs medical attention.[11] Tagging along are Shorty the chauffeur (Bobby Dunn) and Lucy the maid (Violet Knights), whose comic relief reminds us of Martin (Charles Gerrard) and the Maid (Moon Carroll) in Browning’s Dracula. The group immediately meets Oscar (William Jackie), who is mentally ill, but has the run of the place. It is as if we are in Dr. Seward’s sanitarium in Dracula, with Renfield (Dwight Frye) on the loose, The Phantom echoing Dracula while anticipating Frankenstein.
While Sheldon Lewis’s villain menaces Ruth, Dr. Weldon informs Dick about his plans to transplant a human brain, proclaiming he would “be the first” to perform the surgery successfully. Weldon believes Ruth is a “marvellous subject” for his mad science. His laboratory appears minimal and shoddy compared to the other sets, making it seem as unhygienic as it is creepy. Weldon keeps numerous skulls on a shelf, having already botched an operation on at least one of the their owners, as he reminds his lab assistant Alphonse (actor uncredited). Weldon intends to do the same to Ruth.
And Dr. Weldon has help, more than just from Alphonse. In a twist, Dr. Weldon really is The Phantom.[12] The dark figure in black as played by Sheldon Lewis is his partner, “The Thing,” whom more than one character throughout the film mistakes for being The Phantom. While Dick battles Dr. Weldon and Alphonse in the lab, the Thing pursues Ruth. The film reaches a happy ending after the police arrive and help Dick defeat the bad guys. Having been separated during the melee, Lucy and Shorty reunite. Dick not only becomes a “star reporter,” but also gets engaged to Ruth.
During its limited theatrical run during the final months of 1931, The Phantom usually played on the bottom of double bills in cities or as a single feature in small towns. Consistent in its publicity were creepy eyes beaming out a hypnotic gaze, reminiscent of some of Dracula’s publicity images. One advertisement touted The Phantom as “Weird, gripping mystery [that] will hold … audiences breathless.”[13] And a newspaper article in Lebanon, Pennsylvania warned readers about its “blood-mad maniac … a scientific murderer’s lust for innocent gore.”[14]
Reviews were few in number. Motion Picture Herald declared, “There is nothing new in this story of two young reporters who endeavor to find out the identity of ‘The Phantom,’ but the thrills of the search may prove amusing to the boys of the family.”[15] The British trade paper The Bioscope observed:
Although much use is made of secret doors and sliding panels and most of the scenes are carried on in almost total darkness, presumably, to maintain an atmosphere of mystery, there seems to be so little motive in the actions of the various maniacs that interest is never even faintly aroused. One can hardly imagine the least sophisticated audience being stirred by the crudities of such an incomprehensible production.”[16]
Modern viewers will likely agree, at least regard to the first half of the film. Its second half truly deserves far more recognition.
As for Alvin J. Neitz, he might be best remembered for his subsequent work, films like Tombstone Canyon (1932), which reunited him with Sheldon Lewis, as well as serials like Dick Tracy (1937) and SOS Coast Guard (1937), the latter starring Bela Lugosi. But The Phantom was Neitz’s most important contribution to the cinema, if only due to its pivotal place in horror film history.
And it does hold that place, compellingly so. Of course, some people might understandably question the value or importance of “being first.” Werner Herzog proclaimed, “Ambition is to be the fastest runner on this planet, to be the first on the South Pole, which is a grotesque perversion of ambition. It’s an ego trip, and I’m not on an ego trip. I don’t have ambitions – I have a vision.”
But even if we wish to challenge the value of being first, the distinction is difficult to diminish. Being first is ingrained in humankind. There are gold medals, then silver, then bronze. Frederick Cook, Robert Peary, and Richard E. Byrd risked their lives to be first to the North Pole: none of them were, it seems, with the award going instead to Roald Amundsen. Twelve astronauts have set foot on the moon: Neil Armstrong was the first, which is likely why he remains the most famous. In his Forbes article “The Importance of Being First,” Jerry McLaughlin pointedly asked, “Do you remember your first kiss? I’m guessing yes. Do you remember your fourth kiss? Hmmm….”[17]
Do we remember Hollywood’s first indie horror movie? I’m guessing no. But we should, even if it is not at the artistic level of many of those produced in the months, years, and decades that followed. The Phantom exemplifies ambition over vision. Its speed of production placed it in a pole position, independent of competition, let alone studios, a position not of giant leaps for a genre, but of locomotion that has gone on to move everyone from Victor Halperin to Damien Leone. Dr. Weldon wanted to be the “first” to make a successful brain transplant. He wasn’t, but his character runs amok in what became a landmark film, the first of Hollywood’s indie horror movies.
Endnotes
[1] For more information, see Gary D. Rhodes, The Birth of the American Horror Film (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2018), 2.
[2] For more information, see Gary D. Rhodes, “’Horror Film’: How the Term Came to Be,” Monstrum, Volume 1, Number 1 (April 2018), 90-115.
[3] “Frankenstein Will Be Next Universal Thriller,” Hollywood Reporter, March 16, 1931, 2; “Production Activities,” Hollywood Reporter, March 20, 1931, 5.
[4] “U Has Horror Cycle All to Self,” Variety, April 8, 1931, 2.
[5] “News Notes about People,” Inside Facts of Stage and Screen, March 14, 1931, 2.
[6] Ted Taylor, “Fast and Slow Direction,” Variety, December 29, 1931, 152.
[7] “Skyline Coveres Bowery and Ritz,” Zanesville Signal (Zanesville, OH), November 8, 1931, II9.
[8] After watching the entire film, it is possible to imagine that it is The Thing who has escaped prison, or perhaps Alphonse, with The Phantom’s aid, but neither the escapee or pilot appear similar to any of the three villains. Before his attempt to operate on Ruth, The Phantom claims he hasn’t practiced his surgeries for “several months,” which implies that he might have been in prison, but again, if so, at minimum the police would know what he looked like, if not his real name. And yet they do not. District Attorney Hampton goes so far as to mistake the heroic Dick Mallory as being the Phantom.
[9] Dialogue suggests District Attorney Hampton was not responsible for The Phantom’s apparent incarceration, so why The Phantom seeks revenge on him is hard to determine. For that matter, The Phantom’s key goal is to undertake a brain transplant.
[10] “Frankenstein Will Be Next Universal Thriller,” 2.
[11] To add further confusion to the storyline, Mallory explains that the doctor who ran the sanitarium disappeared, but other characters seem to know it as Weldon’s sanitarium. He has not “disappeared,” even if we are meant to believe he has been incarcerated. Moreover, the sanitarium is clearly operational, from a gatekeeper to numerous inmates.
[12] The police are aware of Dr. Weldon’s sanitarium, which again makes it difficult to understand how The Phantom himself was incacerated. Dick Mallory refers to Weldon initially as a “quack doctor,” but not as a convicted felon or prison escapee.
[13] “At Salt Lake Theaters,” The Salt Lake Tribune, November 1, 1931, D11.
[14] “Jackson,” Lebanon Daily News (Lebanon, PA), October 29, 1931, 11.
[15] “The Phantom,” Motion Picture Herald, September 12, 1931, 31.
[16] “The Phantom,” The Bioscope, September 9, 1931, 33.
[17] Jerry McLaughlin, “The Importance of Being First,” Forbes, December 28, 2011, available at: https://www.forbes.com/sites/jerrymclaughlin/2011/12/28/the-importance-of-being-first/. Accessed October 21, 2024.
Gary D. Rhodes, Ph.D., filmmaker, poet and Full Professor of Media Production at Oklahoma Baptist University, is the author of the forthcoming Weirdumentary: Ancient Aliens, Fallacious Prophecies, and Mysterious Monsters from 1970s Documentaries (Boswell Books), Vampires in Silent Cinema (Edinburgh University Press, 2024), Becoming Dracula – Vols. 1 and 2 (with William M. [Bill] Kaffenberger, BearManor Media), Consuming Images: Film Art and the American Television Commercial (co-authored with Robert Singer, Edinburgh University Press, 2020), Emerald Illusions: The Irish in Early American Cinema (IAP, 2012), The Perils of Moviegoing in America (Bloomsbury, 2012) and The Birth of the American Horror Film (Edinburgh University Press, 2018), as well as the editor of such anthologies as Film by Design: The Art of the Movie Poster (University of Mississippi Press, 2024), The Films of Wallace Fox (Edinburgh University Press, 2024), The Films of Joseph H. Lewis (Wayne State University Press, 2012) and The Films of Budd Boetticher (Edinburgh University Press, 2017). Rhodes is also the writer-director of such documentary films as Lugosi: Hollywood’s Dracula (1997) and Banned in Oklahoma (2004).