While not generally associated with the great horror films of the early 1930's, MGM certainly made some noteworthy contributions to the genre during that period, most notably Tod Browning's great trio of films: "Freaks," "The Devil Doll," and "Mark of the Vampire." And then there is the fascinating "The Mask of Fu Manchu," directed by the underrated Charles Brabin and starring the man who, by 1932, had established himself as Hollywood's master of the macabre, the great Boris Karloff.
Forget the convoluted plot, involving a lot of twists and turns trying to receive the mask and sword of Genghis Kahn. The script, as with Sax Rohmer's original novel, hews closely to the western view of Asians during the period as a sub-human "race" bent on bringing death and destruction to the good, pure, non-racist (Ha!) Caucasian peoples of the world. Concentrate, instead, on Tony Gaudio's fluid camera-work, Cedric Gibbons' suitably elaborate production designs, and Adrian's equally elaborate costumes.
Focus especially, though, on the performances, which are the heart of this film. Rarely did Karloff convey more sheer, unadulterated menace than here as Fu Manchu. From the first time we see him, his face distorted behind a magnifying glass, to the climax as he prepares to lead his "yellow hordes" on an orgy of death and destruction, he dominates every scene and commands your attention all the way, like the consummate actor he was. Lewis Stone comports himself with the innate dignity he brought to every role as his adversary, Inspector Neyland Smith. Likewise Jean Hersholt as the archaeologist Von Berg. Future Durango Kid Charles Starrett and 1930s ingénue Karen Morley are appropriately bland and attractive as the young lovers. Finally, there is the young Myrna Loy, just on the cusp of major stardom, playing the last of her many early faux-Asian vamp roles as Fu's sadistic daughter. To see her going almost orgasmic at the sight of Starrett being tortured is to witness pre-code high camp at its best.
In short, see "Mask of Fu Manchu" for what it is: A true camp-fest of large proportions and solid performances, particularly by Karloff and Loy.
Forget the convoluted plot, involving a lot of twists and turns trying to receive the mask and sword of Genghis Kahn. The script, as with Sax Rohmer's original novel, hews closely to the western view of Asians during the period as a sub-human "race" bent on bringing death and destruction to the good, pure, non-racist (Ha!) Caucasian peoples of the world. Concentrate, instead, on Tony Gaudio's fluid camera-work, Cedric Gibbons' suitably elaborate production designs, and Adrian's equally elaborate costumes.
Focus especially, though, on the performances, which are the heart of this film. Rarely did Karloff convey more sheer, unadulterated menace than here as Fu Manchu. From the first time we see him, his face distorted behind a magnifying glass, to the climax as he prepares to lead his "yellow hordes" on an orgy of death and destruction, he dominates every scene and commands your attention all the way, like the consummate actor he was. Lewis Stone comports himself with the innate dignity he brought to every role as his adversary, Inspector Neyland Smith. Likewise Jean Hersholt as the archaeologist Von Berg. Future Durango Kid Charles Starrett and 1930s ingénue Karen Morley are appropriately bland and attractive as the young lovers. Finally, there is the young Myrna Loy, just on the cusp of major stardom, playing the last of her many early faux-Asian vamp roles as Fu's sadistic daughter. To see her going almost orgasmic at the sight of Starrett being tortured is to witness pre-code high camp at its best.
In short, see "Mask of Fu Manchu" for what it is: A true camp-fest of large proportions and solid performances, particularly by Karloff and Loy.