An Appreciation of Universal Horror's "Invisible Man" Franchise

Scene from The Invisible Man

This Friday will mark the latest interpretation of the H.G. Wells classic "The Invisible Man." Starring Elisabeth Moss, the updated version already has proven to be an intense update that finds the story tying more to themes of toxic masculinity than the feeling of not being seen. In fact, there have been many interpretations throughout the years, though few will ever be as interesting as the franchise that started it all. Back in the 1930s, the Universal Horror label did their best to create the cinematic icons of every horror character imaginable. Audiences are undoubtedly more familiar with Frankenstein, Dracula, and to a lesser extent The Wolf Man and The Creature from the Black Lagoon. However, there's one that exists in the fray and has a more interesting legacy over six films. The Invisible Man in 1933 started a franchise that was never as acclaimed or consistent as its peers, but it does serve as an interesting alternate path that horror could've gone down, embracing romantic comedy, World War II espionage thrillers, and the more general sense of camp. While it may have one of the weakest franchises of Universal Horror, it's easily the most fascinating.

The quest to create properties that audiences would want to see actually started in the 1920s for Universal. With films like The Phantom of the Opera, The Hunchback of Notre Dame (both starring Lon Chaney in career-defining roles), and The Man Who Laughs, the studio mined classic literature for horror icons. Consider it a test-run of sorts for what would start taking place with the next wave of films kicking off in the 1930s. They would find character actors like Boris Karloff, Bela Lugosi, and Lon ChaneyJr. to take on characters that have since become iconic, interpreted hundreds of times since but rarely as memorable as the first time. While Lugosi and Karloff became immediate box office idols, there was some difficulty finding other properties to adapt that would withstand public interest. That's why originals like The Mummy and The Wolf Man were made, though none could compete with the two-headed figure that defined the studio.

What made these films special is something that has since become known as auteur theory. Filmmakers like Tod Browning (Dracula) and James Whale (Frankenstein) brought with them their own personal approach to storytelling. For Browning, it was largely based on the macabre showmanship of freak shows that defined his previous work like Freaks and The Unholy Three. Lugosi was allowed to look human, but underneath there was this deeper empathy for the freak side of things, wishing to be accepted. Meanwhile, Whale was coming from the world of theater and thus made everything almost operatic. The set designs were enormous, the shadows recalling German Expressionism and Colin Clive balanced flamboyancy with a more dramatic obsession. Of course, the draw was Karloff, who initially didn't have Frankenstein's Monster talk to allow the audience to interpret his inner pain. These were the emotional cruxes that made Whale the master of Universal Horror, returning to the field for the coded-gay classic Bride of Frankenstein and the rare haunted house entry The Old Dark House. He elevated horror into a dramatic art form, and in the process showed what the future of the genre would look like better than Browning or any of his peers.

In between making Frankenstein and Bride of Frankenstein (which he was initially opposed to), Whale took on another project for Universal with The Invisible Man. It had all the trappings of a perfect horror film. Based on the 1897 story by H.G. Wells, it followed the exploits of a man who had become invisible following an unfortunate science experiment. He was seen as a freak because of this and it drove him to madness. The goal was simple. Like Frankenstein's Monster wanting to be understood, The Invisible Man wanted to be seen. There was this need to add layers of melodrama without ever allowing the actor to express himself. It often goes ignored, but an early performance by Claude Raines is given some great mileage just by his vocal performance. He elocutes with brilliant terror as the curtain is slowly pulled back on things.

Like Frankenstein, Whale can't help but go for theatrics. Given that it's a production from 1931, it's still impressive to note how well the special effects hold up. In several scenes, The Invisible Man (while invisible, not in his costume) is seen throwing carts across the road or harassing horses. Whale manages to depict it with practical effects that on their own are impressive feats, but are outdone when The Invisible Man finally unravels his bandaged head. In one of those early achievements of the film, it feels like there is a head being unraveled, even if nothing is actually seen. The Invisible Man may get short shrift when compared to the more successful franchises, but it's still an accomplishment of filmmaking that also proved Whale's ability to make any horror story into this sympathetic journey of the soul. 

That is the one thing that divides Universal Horror of the 1930s from even what came later. They all started from a place of drama, asking the audience to think hard about the characters that they watched. The Wolf Man's plight was unfortunate, and that required seeing him as more than a monster. The scary part was in finding a connection to these characters that were so different from ourselves, and in some ways, The Invisible Man was the most literal translation. There are so many people who don't feel seen, whether for personal identification or just in general. However, that became more difficult to hold onto as the franchises expanded. Suddenly Frankenstein was teaming up with The Wolf Man, and the dreaded House of Dracula/House of Frankenstein films created early crossover movies that weren't more than cash grabs (Karloff would go so far as to appear in one of them, though not as his most beloved role).

That may be why The Invisible Man franchise never felt the same after 1933. Unlike every other title of the time, there was a major gap between the first and second films. It raised the question: why is this film even being made? Of course, when Universal Horror had become such a beloved brand, one has to wonder why not keep the good times going. Still, in the time that it took Frankenstein and Dracula to release three films, The Invisible Man remained dormant. It could just be that unlike every other story, there was no conflict to uproot. You're either invisible or you're not. Also, he's frankly a little less interesting because of his invisibility if one was looking for theatrical longevity. How do you update the franchise when it seems like everything worth doing had been done? You kind of just do it all over again.

The Invisible Man Returns (1940) is self-explanatory, finding The Invisible Man's brother injecting Vincent Price with the serum. True, Price was an actor who was so committed to his role that anything he was in was inherently watchable. He has the right level of camp to make this madness feel like a personal strain on his soul. The only issue is that it doesn't cover much new ground, provided that legal battles don't interest you. Still, the one thing that it could be praised for was its visual effects. Price spent most of the film as a disembodied voice (appearing for roughly only a minute). The film also received a Best Special Effects Oscar nomination, which was a feat that the first couldn't. It was fun, but even from a studio whose Frankenstein lineage was becoming more ridiculous, the familial extensions weren't enough to make it more than a rerun of sorts, but with a solid, campy performance in the middle in Price.

Then again, the strangest thing about The Invisible Man as a franchise is that it took the Universal Horror trope in a very different direction. To look at Frankenstein for a moment, the sequels were labeled as things related to the title. They went Bride, Son, and Ghost of Frankenstein. They were all fitting, but it created the sense that these were more family dramas than respective sequels. For The Invisible Man Returns, things began to shift with the next film. Because the 1940 film from director Joe May was seen as a success, they turned around a sequel so fast that it came out exactly 11 months later. Where The Invisible Man Returns came out on January 12 of 1940, The Invisible Woman was in theaters by December 12.

Scene from The Invisible Woman

Whereas there was something cutting edge about the others, The Invisible Woman felt a little cheap by comparison. The special effects weren't as lobbied onto action beats this time around, choosing to embrace more of a romantic comedy vibe. After all, the protagonist was shifting from men like Raines and Price to one of the more stereotypical women archetypes of 1940 in Virginia Bruce. She's seeking revenge against her former employer (John Barrymore), and wacky hijinks ensue. As much as it could be seen as impressive to have a horror movie appealing to women, it was more reflective of her ditzy behavior as she sought generic revenge. There wasn't as much emotional plight as the other films even later, and it served as a decent comedy. Even then, the focus on the invisible effects felt lazier, with the invisible figure outlined by transparent lines. It was entertaining, sure, but it was an odd entry that stands out because of how out of place it is not only in The Invisible Man franchise, but a pre-Abbott and Costello Universal Horror. 

The only thing that The Invisible Woman did best was beat Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man to having a central female protagonist (the other was Baroness Elsa Frankenstein) by three years. Even then, it wasn't enough to inspire hope that sci-fi romantic comedies were a sustainable genre for Universal. There would be romance, sure, but the dives back into screwball often saved for the likes of Howard Hawks or George Cukor weren't going to last long in this world. 

In its place was the 1942 World War II film The Invisible Agent. After three films that were at best about the internal struggles of humanity, the franchise went in a very different direction. Much like Fritz Lang's Manhunt, it was another sensationalist film about Americans winning the war. Who wouldn't want to take an invisibility serum to spy on the enemy and feed secrets back to America? Yes, there are some racial overtones that remain problematic, but the rest is secretly one of the most inventive and exciting entries in this entire franchise. Whereas the others pushed visual effects and gimmicks, this was presented a fantasy that was compelling to the audience of the time, deep inside a terrifying war. The military imagery and espionage tone helped to make it feel like Universal Horror with a deeper meaning, creating a type of horror that was ahead of its time. In theory, it wasn't at all scary (save for the real world dread people brought into it), but it had an intensity that made many want to believe for the best outcome imaginable.

For the final sequel before its facelift, the 1944 film The Invisible Man's Revenge had problems since the beginning. For starters, its director Edgar Barrier dropped out four days into the shoot because of his disagreement with the project and was replaced by Lester Matthews (Ford Beebe would be the final director). It was also likely the film everyone who thought of Universal Horror as evil monsters likely thought the others were. Here was a story that started with a murderer trying to break free, seeking revenge against his enemies. While it's in theory fitting with the original films, there wasn't as much of a chance to focus on the sympathetic elements that made him human. He was a real-life monster, and turning himself invisible wasn't going to solve any problems. Sure, it was a nice and pulpy movie, but there's a reason that it's among the most unmemorable titles in a franchise that never quite made another great movie...

Scene from Abbott and Costello Meet the Invisible Man

Alas, The Invisible Man's only gift was the franchise's inability to appear in the maligned The House of Dracula/The House of Frankenstein films. While every other property sought to look bad by association, The Invisible Man was going dormant. That was until 1948 when the entire Universal Horror line-up got a facelift thanks to popular comedy duo Bud Abbott and Lou Costello. Together they applied their unique sense of slapstick humor to wacky hijinks involving the many icons of horror. It was a way to revitalize the old properties while playing into the developing trends. Who couldn't resist seeing people run around scared from all of the crazy monsters? That's the gist of these movies, and it makes sense that their first outing is arguably their best.

Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein was a comedy first and foremost. Unlike The Invisible Woman, it wasn't based around ridiculous tropes that took away from horror. Instead, horror was the reason everyone was laughing. There were scenes such as Abbott and Costello unboxing Frankenstein's Monster in a museum as he slowly comes to life. The reactions as both men get on the same page was a refreshing shift from the sometimes droll, serious-faced franchises that were approaching their second decade of life. It kept these characters relevant in ways that House of Dracula/House of Frankenstein failed to do in spectacular fashion. While the first largely focused on Frankenstein's Monster and Dracula, there was a teaser for the next film as Price reprised his role as The Invisible Man, proving that there were more scary hijinks around the corner.

Much like The Invisible Woman, Abbot and Costello Meet the Invisible Man can best be described as a wacky comedy full of inventive slapstick. Unlike The Invisible Woman, the 1951 comedy had two charismatic leads taking Keystone Cops on a journey through a boxing match mystery that required a different approach to the horror-comedy. While it may have been lackluster compared to the first, it still presented a way that showed a cultural shift for popular characters in the changing times. It may have also admitted that these characters were increasingly irrelevant, but it also showed affection for the material that was never off-putting. The comedy still holds up for those in love with broad comedy and wordplay, though it's far from the representation that the franchise started with in 1933. Even if the Whale classic had hints of humor, they had devious undertones masked by vulnerability and sadness. Abbott and Costello Meet the Invisible Man was just about having fun.

It's true that none of the Universal Horror classics went away, though The Invisible Man always felt like it was the lesser even compared to later entries like The Creature from the Black Lagoon. It could be that there wasn't much sustainability in making films about invisible people and that there would come a point where even the best visual effects would look chintzy. It may be why the adaptations are few and far between while Frankenstein and Dracula feel updated bi-annually. There's a lot to love in the series, even if two of the films can be called really good and only the first is theoretically a masterpiece. Still, the franchise lasted a healthy 18 years and faced the same problems that every other franchise did (The Wolf Man would end up piggybacking off of Frankenstein more than its own series). The only difference is that it had the boldness to go in bizarre directions that didn't always make sense, reflecting the shifting forms of entertainment better than most.

That is why it's amusing to think that The Invisible Man is back in 2020 with a darker tone and an even stronger message. It began to feel like the character was their pulpy throwaway franchise, and here it is looking to dominate the box office this weekend. One could imagine what this means going forward for the Universal Horror icons if they'll be seen again. Maybe they'll succeed where the Tom Cruise version of The Mummy failed. It's hard to really say. Still, if there's one thing to learn from this franchise over nearly 80 years, it's that they're willing to change with the times, even if that means looking really ridiculous in the process. It's still a franchise that took risks and in the process was more interesting than its peers, even if it was rarely as good as them.