The Awful Dr. Orlof [1962]

Jess Franco's debut film "The Awful Dr. Orlof" is one that merits rewatching. I'd remembered enjoying the grainy Nth-generation VHS "collectors copy" I'd acquired, and--if anything--my exposure to other films in Franco's body of work has only served to enhance my enjoyment of this little gem of gothickry. The man has vision, and when he's on, he is on, meine freunde.

The story involves a Favorite Tenebrous Trope--that of the face-stealing surgeon fixated on restoring the beauty of a disfigured loved one, realized most famously in Franju's "Eyes Without a Face." Dr. Orlof lives in seclusion with his daughter, who was horribly scarred in a fire, along with his maidservant and his blind henchman Morpho (the Morpho character has been revisited and reimagined throughout Franco's career), both of whom are indebted to him because he assisted in their escapes from prison. Inspector Tanner, a sorta-Bob-Hope-ish detective, is investigating the disappearances of young women from the Red Light District while his fiancee Wanda, a lovely ballerina, becomes interested in the case and proceeds with her own explorations.

This is more than a retread of familiar territory. The plot clips along at a very nice pace, with no "dead spots"--just when the picture borders on becoming too talky for its own good, there's a bit of action or an elegantly realized shot that captures one's interest again. Howard Vernon puts in a very fine performance as the obsessed Dr. Orlof, crafting a character who exhibits moments of emotional sensitivity along with his expressions of mania. Like most successful pieces of genre fiction, the devil's in the details of what's happening onscreen, and the details in this particular film are handled with a deftness of style.

One of the things that keeps drawing me back to these low-budget films is that when a certain kind of director works within the constraints of a limited amount of money, his creativity really shines. "Orlof" is a straightforward black and white thriller, the likes of which you've seen several dozen times before. But in the hands of someone who understands the importance of lighting and shot composition as much as Franco does, there's a special kind of beauty to be found. The camera is frequently just-off-kilter in this movie--not wildly dutch-angled, but off-balance, contributing to a "Cabinet of Dr. Caligari"-esque feel. Underscoring this nod to the German Expressionist classic is the character of Morpho, whose screen presence echoes that of Cesare the somnambulist. His hairstyle, macabre black garb, and sightless stare all evoke that icon of silent terror.

Lighting is handled masterfully throughout the film, as when Orlof is in a cabaret sizing up one of his victims. While her face is brightly lit, the face of the doctor is veiled in shadows, the whites of his teeth and eyes barely visible in the gloom. It's a simple yet effective way to indicate that sinister deeds are soon to be in the offing. The movie is filled with moments like these--visual and audio evocations of the eerie mood. Orlof summons Morpho with a tap of his cane, a female nightclub performer wanders an empty house waiting for her rendezvous, and of course that genre fave--a frightened beauty wanders the halls of a creaky castle armed only with a candelabra.

There are, of course, some hokey touches. One is never *quite* sure just when the film is supposed to take place. There are horses and carriages in the street, yet the costumes are a perplexing mix of Swingin' Sixties silhouettes and 1920s burlesque. The makeup on the female characters is a fantasy of pancake makeup and liquid eyeliner. By the time our heroine is donning her satin ballgown complete with nipple-tassel embelishments, it doesn't seem all that terribly out of place! The soundtrack ping-pongs between tried and true organ-enhanced gloom to wacky slide whistle interludes, making the proceedings strangely bipolar and disorienting.

Oddly enough, even these touches, which would seem dangerously corny in other films, make the movie even more enjoyable. What's happening on screen is never deadly serious--there's an acknowledgement that this is a movie made to entertain. While some characters are portrayed with a surprising amount of depth (Orlof, as mentioned, as well as his servants are all multifaceted characters), there's room for comic relief. A quack confessor to Orlof's crimes has a great little scene, and the Sketch Artist who is called in to create portraits of the killers hams it up in spite of an entirely silent performance.

These fast-and-loose zany elements are always balanced by some sort of striking imagery--Orlof and Morpho transporting an elaborate casket containing their latest victim, or Orlof's daughter alive in her glass cage. Shuddery stuff, that!

"The Awful Dr. Orlof" sets the stage for Jess Franco's body of work--it's a genre piece that could be easily dismissed as another mad science melodrama, but lurking just beneath the throw-away entertainment is evidence of a creative mind at work.

Enjoy more stills from "The Awful Dr. Orlof" on Flickr.

Note: I'm having a helluva time ID'ing whether it's "The Awful Dr. OrloFF" or "The Awful Dr. OrloF"! I'm opting for the title on the DVD copy I own, but if someone wiser in all matters Francophilic wishes to chime in, I'll welcome the input.