The Ghoul (1933)
Directed by T. Hayes Hunter

Film Review

Universal Pictures' early successes in the fantasy horror genre inspired many inferior imitations, both in America and abroad.   One of the best known of these was The Ghoul, a British adaptation of a popular novel and play by Frank King.  Produced by Michael Balcon for the British arm of Gaumont, the film closely imitates the expressionistic style that Universal had perfected, most notably in Frankenstein (1931), and is pretty well a shameless fusion of two of Universal's more recent horror offerings, The Mummy (1932) and The Old Dark House (1932), with some typically British humour added to help disguise the obvious plagiarism. 

Boris Karloff's success as the monster in Universal's Frankenstein led him to be cast in many similar roles, including the creepy professor-turned-homicidal zombified fiend that we see in The Ghoul.  As can be seen from his somewhat lacklustre portrayal in this film, Karloff had grown to resent being typecast as the monster.  Even though the actor did get to play a wide range of roles in his career he would never be able to free himself from a genre with which he had become so closely associated. 

The Ghoul may have the atmosphere and visual style of a comparable Universal film, but it has far fewer genuine thrills.  Much more frightening  than the monster is the quality of the acting, which at times has much the same effect as someone scraping his fingernails down a blackboard whilst simultaneously starting up a dentist's drill.  The film buffs should note that not only is this Boris Karloff's first appearance in a British film but it also marks the screen debut of another acting legend, Ralph Richardson, although you'll probably be too busy watching Ernest Thesiger chewing up all the scenery to notice.

The uninspired acting is matched by an equally uninspired screenplay (which is partly credited to Roland Pertwee, father of the future Dr Who actor Jon Pertwee).  It would be easy to overlook The Ghoul were it not for its highly atmospheric set design and lighting, which create a mood of sustained menace and a chilling sense of unreality.  Much of the film's visual impact comes from the cinematography provided by Günther Krampf, a veteran of German expressionistic cinema whose credits include such masterworks as F. W. Murnau's Nosferatu (1922), Robert Wiene's The Hands of Orlac (1924) and G.W. Pabst's Pandora's Box (1929). 

When all surviving prints of The Ghoul were lost some time in the late 1930s, the film soon acquired the status of a lost classic.  This reputation would be considerably tarnished when a badly preserved print of the film was unearthed in Czechoslovakia in 1969.  This print had Czech subtitles and a poor quality soundtrack, and was missing eight minutes, which included savage cuts to the two murder scenes.  Until recently, this is the version of the film that was mostly widely circulated, released in widescreen format to remove the subtitles at the bottom of the frame.  Not unlike the principal villain in the film, The Ghoul enjoyed an unexpected return from the dead in the early 1980s when a perfectly preserved camera negative was discovered at Shepperton Film Studios in England.   From this, new prints were made which restored the film to its former glory and won back its reputation as a classic in the British horror genre.

Film Synopsis

Professor Morlant is an eccentric Englishman who has acquired a morbid fascination with the powers of the ancient Egyptian gods.  On his deathbed, he gives instructions to his manservant, Laing, to bury him with an amulet which, he believes, will give him immortality after his death.  Realising that the artefact may be worth a bob or two, Laing steals it, and so his employer is immured in his Egyptian-styled tomb at the bottom of his garden without his passport to the next world.   As Morlant's nearest relatives arrive at his old mansion to settle their inheritance, the recently deceased professor makes an unexpected comeback, as a lumbering monster who just cannot help strangling people...