Calling Dr. Death (LeBorg 1943)

For the record, I never had any intention of turning reviews of Lon Chaney Jr./Universal Studio films into an ongoing series, much like I have never really had any specific plans for this site overall. But here I am again, this time looking at the film Calling Dr. Death (LeBorg 1943), and much like Man Made Monster (1941), Calling Dr. Death is not a particularly great film.

That said, the film is a significant departure from the Chaney Jr./Universal films previously reviewed on the site, with Calling Dr. Death being a mystery rather than a horror film. The film is based on the radio series Inner Sanctum Mysteries which ran from 1941-1952, featuring stories of murder, horror and suspense. Coincidentally enough, I listened to an episode of the series a month or two ago, and the program certainly has its charms, with a spooky-but-campy atmosphere, and some fun host banter to bookend the episode. Unfortunately, none of those charms are on display in Calling Dr. Death. The film is a straightforward mystery, directed by Reginald LeBorg in a perfunctory manner from a screenplay by Edward Dein.

The film concerns psychologist Dr. Mark Steel (Chaney Jr.), a man trapped in a loveless marriage to a woman who is openly having affairs with other men while refusing Steel a divorce. Steel’s frustrations are only exacerbated by the romantic feelings shared between him and his nurse Stella (Patricia Morison), who is seemingly his only confidant. One weekend, Mark discovers his wife has taken off, and he heads out to find her. When he wakes up in his office Monday morning, he discovers that he has no memory of the weekend, and that his wife has been brutally murdered. While his wife’s lover is the prime suspect, Mark is convinced of the man’s innocence, because Steel is convinced that he himself is the murderer. With no evidence however, Steel sets about trying to solve the crime and save the man, even if it means revealing himself as the killer in the process.

There is nothing about Calling Dr. Death that is particularly interesting, including its failings, which are little more than the typical problems with most murder mysteries, from an easily deduced killer, to giant plot holes and lapses in logic. If the film has a problem that is particular to itself, it is the use of voice over to convey the “voices” in Mark’s head. Along with being overused, the voice over never successfully conveys the idea that Mark is suffering from any form of psychosis, as the bulk of it is little more than Mark moaning on about how pathetic he is. He may be slightly depressed, but there is never any indication from the voice over that Mark is truly suffering from any serious mental issues.


If there is anything fascinating in the film at all, it is mainly the work of star Lon Chaney Jr., who continues to astound me as I work my way through his films for having a star image that is completely defined by weakness. In every film I have watched Chaney Jr. in thus far, the characters he has played have been essentially powerless men, unable to take action and constantly at the mercy of others. As Mark Steel, we see Chaney Jr. playing the weakest character I have seen him take on yet, accomplishing little and being attacked from all sides. Unfortunately, this does not make for a particularly fascinating character, and since there is no doubt from the beginning as to whether or not Mark is or is not guilty, it is impossible to care about anything that happens over the course of the film.

Calling Dr. Death is only available as part of the “Inner Sanctum Mysteries” DVD collection from Universal, the remaining films of which I have yet to review. On its own, I cannot recommend the film as a worthwhile dip into the Universal catalogue, and as a start to the series, Calling Dr. Death does not hold out much promise for the rest of the films to come. Still, with five more films to go, we shall see if the “Inner Sanctum Mysteries” film series improves, and has any cinematic value as a whole.

Batman (serial; Hillyer 1943)

(My review of Inception will be up by Friday of this week)

In my review of Batman and Robin, the 1949 serial from Sam Katzman, I noted that one of the key reasons the serial works despite the clear and abundant flaws is due to the innocence of the whole effort. It set out to tell a Batman and Robin adventure, and low budget (and narrative logic) be damned, it did it with enthusiasm.

I cannot, however, give the same good will towards the first ever live action Batman film, the 1943 serial Batman, produced by Columbia pictures and directed by Lambert Hillyer. While the film comes out of the same low budget roots as the latter film, Batman is not a simple adventure serial, but rather a piece of war time propaganda designed to drum up anti-Japanese sentiment. The film is thus full of racist caricatures and slurs, with an extremely jingoistic attitude permeating every frame of the film. While the context out of which the film was produced may make these elements understandable, it doesn’t make them any less uncomfortable in the context of a boy’s adventure serial. And even if one is able to watch with the understanding of why the film is what it is, it doesn’t change the fact that the serial isn’t really all that good.
In Batman, Batman and Robin (Lewis Wilson and Douglas Croft) are secret crime fighters who work for the United States government. In Gotham City, a Japanese spy and master criminal, Prince Tito Daka (J. Carrol Naish) operates, taking control of the criminal underworld and seeks to sabotage the United States war effort. It is up to Batman and Robin to stop Daka, but can they do so when Daka possesses a league of zombies at his command (old style zombies, not the Romero flesh eaters) and a deadly radiation gun?
As an adaptation of the Batman character, the 1943 serial is an abysmal failure. Since his first appearance in 1939, Batman has always been an aggressively individualistic character, working for the law by working outside it, and on his own terms. While the comics of the 1950s and the 1960s television adaptation tried to mitigate this element of the character, it has never been able to be fully purged, and it is one of the most appealing elements of the character. He is totally uncompromising in his fight against crime, but it is a personal war, not one beholden to any specific country or ideology. In transforming Batman into a government agent, that individualism is lost, as his quest is subsumed into the larger war effort.
The film however cannot even get the concept of a ideologically driven Batman right. Lewis’ Batman is less of a crime fighter and more of an overgrown man-child looking for excitement. There is no sense of commitment or drive to his Batman: he instead opens up his assignments from Washington like a kid opening a Christmas gift, and more often than not seems to have no interest in the people he is supposedly trying to help. In fact, Lewis’ Batman is a mean spirited individual, viciously pulling pranks on his Alfred and treating his supposed romantic interest Linda (Shirley Patterson) with outright contempt and negligence. If this were a persona to throw people off from figuring out that he is Batman it would have been one thing, but here, this is simply who Batman is. At least Croft’s Robin is likeable enough to balance out Wilson’s failings as our “hero.”
These problems with our hero go beyond Wilson’s performance however, as the filmmakers set about making Batman the saddest superhero committed to film. Batman is repeatedly beaten by the criminals he is after, and more often than not, it is either Robin and/or Alfred who are bailing him out of trouble. The final chapter of the serial actually involves Batman being sidelined until Robin rescues him and subdues the villain. While I am all for a fallible hero, in making Batman this inept, there is no sense as to why anyone should be interested in following his adventures.
Then, there is the racism. Now, while it is certainly true that the film is a product of its time, this in no way forgives the vitriol in which the film engages with such attitudes. The whole film seems to seethe in an open desire to attack the Japanese at any given moment, and there is rarely a moment in the film that goes by without some form of anti-Japanese sentiment raising its head. Some of it is so absurd that it could almost be laughed off, such as a scene in which an American criminal gives a bafflingly patriotic speech, but then the film heads down much more serious territory, including an unsettling moment when Batman himself starts using racial slurs against Daka. Perhaps no moment sets the venomous tone of the film more than an early scene in which the narrator points out the “wisdom” of the interment camps which Japanese Americans were placed into during the war. The moment lays bare the film’s intent, and it is hard to try and see the film as anything more than a historical artifact of war time propaganda afterwards.
There are aspects of the serial however that are worthy of mention. While he plays the role for laughs, William Austin’s Alfred is actually one of the few parts of the film that works, even though he is victimized by those he serves. Placed in various disguises and situations he shouldn’t be in, Alfred does manage to get a few real laughs throughout the film. And the opening theme sets the mood perfectly, and as it plays over the Columbia logo, it feels reminiscent of the Danny Elfman Spider-man theme. Unfortunately, nothing in the serial lives up to the expectations set up by the music.
When it comes down to it, Batman is of little note: As an artifact of World War II era filmmaking, it is only one among many example;. serious film serial fans will likely find it forgettable and a poor representation for the format. As for diehard Batman fans, the film is a must watch, but only from the perspective of the character's evolution into a cultural icon.