#anton grot

[atomic-chronoscaph]

Doctor X (1932)

[anhed-nia]

BLOGTOBER 10/13-14/2023: THIRTEEN WOMEN, SVENGALI

I really loved this. I wonder what the book is like, I might have to read it! Author Tiffany Thayer sounds like a pretty interesting guy as per this collection of provocative reviews on Wikipedia:

I don't know about you, but that makes me want to read everything he wrote. THIRTEEN WOMEN concerns a circle of grownup sorority sisters who are beset by an anomalous series of murders and suicides. It so happens that all of the women recently received damning horoscopes in the mail from a self-styled New York Swami--but the Swami himself is just a pawn in a greater conspiracy masterminded by Ursula Georgi (Myrna Loy). The master hypnotist has a bone to pick with these smug society ladies, which I am about to spoil so plug your ears if you'd rather watch the movie first (and you should! It's only an hour long): As a half-Javanese girl "saved" by a missionary who sent her to a western finishing school, Ursula believed the key to her future was to pass for white. Therefore, she's vowed revenge on the racist sorority that rejected her in college, and honestly the revenge she has plotted should have earned her an honorary PhD. It's hard to imagine that either a 1930 novel or a 1932 movie really mean to say "fuck racism" so frankly, but the sharp premise and Myrna Loy's incredible charisma make it hard not to side with the ostensible villain in this picture.

Some people have remarked that THIRTEEN WOMEN is an early iteration of the slasher movie, with its female ensemble (of sorority babes no less) being picked off one by one. To me it was more reminiscent of the cursed media motif familiar to J-horror. Maybe I'm just saying this because I rewatched RINGU this Blogtober and I was encouraged by the documentarians behind THE J-HORROR VIRUS to consider its influence on SMILE, which I also rewatched, and which I'm realizing I love. The victims in THIRTEEN WOMEN have signed a round robin chain letter, for which they each receive a star chart describing their imminent doom; the power of suggestion takes the place of power tools here, with Ursula's sheer force of will acting as a free-floating contagion that rots the guilty and weak from the inside out. I was reminded of movies like RINGU and JU-ON as much as of Jorg Buttgereit's DER TODESKING, an experimental horror film about a chain letter that causes its recipients to self-destruct. It's fun to think that THIRTEEN WOMEN is a progenitor of movies like BLACK CHRISTMAS, but I see reflections of it elsewhere, too.

I wound up pairing this with SVENGALI just because they're both hypnosis movies, but that movie turned out to have its own racial tensions. In George du Maurier's foundational 1894 novel Trilby, the evil hypnotist is explicitly Jewish; in Archie Mayo's 1931 adaptation, Svengali is referred to abstractly as "Polish or something", which seems to be a euphemism for a Semitic Eastern European identity. This might not invite such analysis if it weren't for the styling of John Barrymore as a swarthy, rodent-like embodiment of greed. When I say that, it sounds pretty negative, but I'd still insist that SVENGALI is a great movie well worth seeing for its perverse humor, surprising grimness, expressionistic design (courtesy Anton Grot), and unusual horror elements--in addition to Barrymore's unforgettable performance.

I guess there has been some debate over whether SVENGALI is properly a horror movie, and I refer you to author Tony Burgess who once said that if you have to argue about whether or not something is a horror movie, then it's probably a horror movie. The only causes to argue are if you insist on an extremely narrow definition of horror to guide your personal consumer habits, or if you're squeamish about admitting that you've ever enjoyed or respected anything that falls under the horror umbrella (and I tend to think the latter case is more prevalent). Admittedly, SVENGALI blends comedy, romance, and musical elements such that the viewer is never quite sure how dark things will get until the very end, but I think that anyone should be able to see the horror in the incredible sequence of the eponymous villain sending his disembodied consciousness through the CALIGARI-like city to possess the unwitting Trilby (played by Marian Marsh who must have been the most adorable person alive at the time). A few different visual effects are used to evoke Svengali's power, some of which are still modern-looking and scary, and the film's breezy humor and charm do not promise any particular safety.

On some level, the aura of antisemitism and xenophobia itself lets us know we're in horrific territory. This is the genre of fears, rational and irrational, where we face whatever society perceives as threatening. Today we're in the midst of a lot of arguments about whether or not "separating the art from the artist" is ever appropriate, with full cancellation of the art AND artist positioned as the only alternative, but both of these options suggest that we must never have to face immorality, ambiguity, or ambivalence in art at all; we're forced to either avoid it or ignore it. This denies us the opportunity to understand what these darker emotions consist of, and understanding is the only way to defang them. Personally, I don't think it's any more helpful to condemn e.g. Dracula or the Wicked Witch of the West for their bigoted elements, than it is to simply pretend those things aren't there at all. SVENGALI provides us with a similar opportunity to confront antisocial phobias, with its troublingly caricaturesque villain and the unavoidable fascination one feels when his hypnotic gaze projects itself at us from the screen. Recommended viewing.

[cinearchitecture]

William Dieterle (director, left), Max Reinhardt (co-director, center) and Anton Grot (art director, right) studying the miniature model of a set for Midsummer Night's Dream

[filmadapter]

Anton Grot’s “Mystery of the Wax Museum”

La première version de « Mystery of the Wax Museum » / « Masque de cire » (1933) est moins connue que son remake « House of Wax » / “ L'homme au masque de cire ” (1953) tourné en 3-D et avec Vincent Price, mais nettement meilleur.

Dirigé par l’infatigable Michael Curtiz («Casablanca») qui n’a pas moins de 180 films à son actif, c’est une de ses rares incursions dans le monde de l’épouvante.

La réussite du film réside en partie dans la présence de la future « fiancé de King Kong » Fay Wray dans le rôle de Charlotte, première « scream queen » de l’histoire du cinéma.

Et de sa pétillante partenaire Glenda Farrell dans le rôle de Florence, une Tintin féminine, intrépide et drôle, déterminée à résoudre l’énigme du musée de cire. Girlpower of 1933.

Le film échappe à la censure du tout récent « Code Hays », ce qui permet au reporter Florence de poser des questions assez indiscretes aux policiers chargés de l’enquête

et d’exprimer le besoin d’un remontant après avoir vu lune étrange créature.

Mais ce qui nous intéresse surtout ici, c’est le travail d’Anton Grot, chef décorateur émérite de la Warner Bros., connu pour son penchant pour l’expressionnisme et ses architectures vernaculaires dans des drames sociaux.

Au lieu d’associer les éléments horrifiques du film avec des décors gothiques ou baroques alors en vogue (comme c’était encore le cas pour « Doctor X » 1932 du même Michael Curtiz avec le même Anton Grot comme chef décorateur), Grot crée ici des lieux résolument modernes et assez inhabituels pour un film d’horreur. 

Ainsi la morgue de New York, lieu habituellement représenté lugubre et sombre, devient presque une cathédrale de lumière où les morts sont joliment disposés dans un cercle parfait.

Cela n’empêche pas d’utiliser aussi des éléments expressionnistes en abondance : des ombres menaçantes et des escaliers tordues suffisent à créer efficacement l’atmosphère nécessaire et renvoient directement au « Cabinet du Docteur Caligari » (1920) - le classique du genre.

Par le biais des perspectives inhabituelles, Grot renforce l’angoisse de notre héroïne perdue dans le musée à la recherche de son fiancé.

Telle Alice au pays des Merveilles, Charlotte s’enfonce sans hésitation dans les profondeurs d’un immeuble new yorkais.

Plus elle descend, plus les pièces s’enchainent et s’agrandissent

pour aboutir dans le laboratoire secret et souterrain du créateur des poupées de cire

qui étonne aujourd’hui encore par son design épuré, sa superstructure métallique élancée et ses passerelles suspendues.

Charlotte est capturé par le scrupuleux sculpteur Ivan Igor (Lionel Atwill) - sa fin semble proche.

Est-ce qu’elle sera transformée en poupée de cire ?

Et que fait la police ? 

Quoi qu’il en soit, on peut considérer le laboratoire du musée de cire comme le chainon manquant entre le celui du Dr. Frankenstein

et de celui du Dr. No.

MYSTERY OF THE WAX MUSEUM 1933 Michael Curtiz / Anton Grot

FRANKENSTEIN 1932 James Whale / Herman Rosse

DR NO 1962 Terence Young / Ken Adam

[zazamatic]

Just how did those fabulous Warner Bros. sets come to be? So many visuals come to mind --- Svengali, Captain Blood, Mildred Pierce, others. The designer’s art that created miracles on the sound stage had to begin on a smaller scale, and usually it was models such as these that led to the creation of full-scale backdrops, both in the studio and on location. Here we see an example of the latter, as Errol Flynn inspects the model blueprint for one of the forts that will be constructed at Agoura (Lasky Mesa), west of the San Fernando Valley, for the 1936 Charge Of The Light Brigade. That edifice would be re-used the following year in Warner’s Another Dawn, and would even turn up in a Technicolor Sybil Jason short that was featured by Warners as a DVD extra.

Legendary art director Anton Grot is shown above with director William Dieterle (left) and Max Reinhardt (center) as they inspect a throne room miniature that Grot has assembled for A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

That’s director Raoul Walsh inspecting a miniature for one of his They Drive By Night sets in 1940. Note foliage and the little swimming pool. This would eventually became the home of Ida Lupino and ill-fated husband Alan Hale in the film, an impressive set to have been built wholly within the confines of a soundstage at Warners.

[zazamatic]

Anton Grot was the Art Director at Warner Brothers Studios from the late twenties through the '40s. He had started working in movies in 1913, so he was already very experienced when he started at Warners. He created sketches for set designs that are brillliant works of art in their own right.

His first major assignment was the biblical disaster epic Noah's Ark (1928) for which Grot designed the set for massive Temple of Moloch and created the all-consuming torrent at the climax. This was the first of sixteen collaborations with top Warner's director Michael Curtiz. Grot excelled at creating the prevailing mood of a film, often enhancing the work of the cinematographer. Point in case, Svengali (1931) - with its stylised, expressionist-inspired Parisian buildings and labyrinthine streets - for which both he and Barney McGill garnered Oscar nominations. After 'Svengali', Grot was almost exclusively in charge of the studio's prestige output, including Captain Blood (1935), Anthony Adverse (1936) and The Life of Emile Zola (1937). He was at his best, creating a sinister or foreboding atmosphere through sharply angled shadows, dramatic lighting and clever use of chiaroscuro. His many detailed and highly accomplished sketches for his sets are now housed at the UCLA library.

http://potulentpalaver.blogspot.com/2007/01/anton-grot.html

http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0343819/bio?ref_=nm_ov_bio_sm

[zazamatic]

Anton Grot created sketches for set designs that are brillliant works of art in their own right. He would create the set-up for the "Master Shot" for a scene, and then this is all the set that would be built - sometimes incorporating false perspective, so the set could only be photographed from one camera angle, or it would look fake.

While his work contributed to the gritty, realistic look typical of Warner Brothers films during this period, Grot was adaptable enough to handle glamorous subjects and musicals (Gold Diggers of 1933 (1933), Romance on the High Seas (1948)) with equal aplomb. Some of his most impressive sets involved water, or, rather, prodigious amounts of water. For the studio-bound Errol Flynn swashbuckler The Sea Hawk (1940), he created a 12 ft. deep lake on a brand new sound stage, which contributed greatly to the overall $1.7 million budget (as did the two full-scale sailing vessels used for the battle scenes). Grot subsequently won a special Academy Award for his creation of a 'ripple machine' which simulated weather effects on water. No less impressive were his interior sets, notably the spectacular giant map at the Spanish court on which the downfall of England is plotted, and the vast up and down stairwells which serve as the backdrop for the climactic duel between Flynn's Geoffrey Thorpe and arch villain Lord Wolfingham (Henry Daniell).

After his retirement, Grot devoted much of his time to painting. He died in March 1974 at the age of 90 and was inducted into the Art Directors Hall of Fame in 2004.

http://potulentpalaver.blogspot.com/2007/01/anton-grot.html

http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0343819/bio?ref_=nm_ov_bio_sm

[zazamatic]

Anton Grot was the only Warner’s Art Director repeatedly nominated for Academy Awards, for Svengali (1931), Anthony Adverse (1936), The Life of Emile Zola (1937), The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex (1939), and The Sea Hawk (1940), but he won only once, an honorary award for inventing a ripple machine used in The Sea Hawk. Through the forties, Grot worked less often, but no less brilliantly, on films such as Mildred Pierce (1945) and Possessed (1947).

It was Grot who gave so many Warner features that distinctive look we associate with the studio, having spent over twenty years there between the late silent period and the beginning of the fifties. One of his early assignments was one in which Douglas Fairbanks, Sr. put him in charge of the poster campaign for The Thief Of Bagdad in 1924. Those incredible one-sheets, based on original paintings by Anton Grot, are among the most collectable of movie posters. Here’s a rare shot of Grot putting the finishing touches on the twenty-four sheet for Thief.

http://greenbriarpictureshows.blogspot.com/2007/10/greenbriar-weekend-marquee-just-how-did.html

https://backlotstage7.wordpress.com/2013/12/30/anton-grot/

http://irenebrination.typepad.com/irenebrination_notes_on_a/2012/11/the-mad-genius-1931.html