Werewolf of London

I've said this a million times, but I'm out of the loop, and I always have been.  Ever since my near-life experience, I've been further away from the loop than any mortal soul on Satan's black earth.  I'm speaking in relation to all modes of society (music, politics, etc.), but if you want to get particular, I'm out of the horror loop.  Teenaged Dom had his bony finger on the supine pulse of the genre.  Now?  I wouldn't know a contemporary release if it jammed a PVC pipe into my spaghetti rim and notified my legal counsel.  Sorry for the visual.  I know that ambulance chasers tend to turn the stomach.

I broach these topics to tell you why I decided to dip back into 1935 for today's review.  See, the sodomy joke had purpose and meaning.  You would never know it, but Werewolf of London is a Universal classic.  For reasons I can't quite fathom, the renowned studio doesn't tout it as a seminal windfall for werewolves.  1941's The Wolf Man hogs the glory.  Let it be known that London was conceived first, and in this writer's opinion, it towers above its successor.  The film establishes many of the plot contrivances associated with lycanthropes.  The full moon, the means of "curse transference," an exotic plant influencing the victim's piecemeal mutation...this stuff wasn't derived from a literary source.

The story is basic enough.  Brilliant botanist Dr. Glendon is off on an excursion to pin down a rare flower, the Mariphasa.  The significance of the perennial bud (NOTE: I know dick about plants) doesn't come into play until later, but apparently, it hampers the progression of...er, Werewolf Syndrome.  Upon returning home, our protagonist-cum-antagonist is bitten by a flamingo.  Or maybe it was a wolf of some sort.  One of the two.  You can write in the rest.  Henry Hull commands the screen as Dr. Glendon.  It's a shame that he didn't act in more spookshows, as his striking features suit villainous roles.  And is it just me or is he the eidetic image of Jordan Peterson?

Warner Oland is rock solid as Dr. Yogami, a compeer suspicious of Glendon.  The entire troupe is game.  Characters are developed to where they need to be, and that's dandy, but I want to discuss the atmosphere.  Director Stuart Walker brews a tempestuous amalgam of dread and dismay.  The black-and-white cinematography is handsome (yes, handsome), and speaking of the camera, I dug the action shots.  At times, they are filmed behind some obstruction, which makes the viewer feel like a distant spectator to chaos.  It's neat.  Neat-o, even.

Does Werewolf of London take any missteps?  I must say, flaws are scanty.  I'm not comfortable assigning a perfect rating, but I seldom engage in 5-Z'Dar exhibitionism.  This critter comes awfully close, though.  Seek it out and make it a Dombuster night!