When one thinks of cinematic werewolves, the first character that generally springs to mind is Lawrence “Larry” Talbot (Lon Chaney, Jr.), the cursed protagonist introduced in Universal’s 1941 shocker The Wolf Man. Despite dying at that film’s end, Chaney went on to reprise the role in four more 1940s creature features. As popular as he was, though, Talbot was not Universal’s first lycanthrope. That honor belongs to Dr. Wilfred Glendon (Henry Hull), who howled his way onto the big screen 90 years ago in 1935’s Werewolf of London.
Based on a story by co-producer Robert Harris, the film opens in the Tibetan Himalayas. British botanist Glendon has traveled to this snowy clime (Truth be told, the Southern California location shots were actually more rocky than snowy) on a quest to find and bring back a sample of Mariphasa lumina lupina, a rare plant that only grows there and blooms when exposed to moonlight.
While searching the mountainous terrain, Glendon is stalked by a mysterious man-beast. Only briefly glimpsed (see above), the creature attacks and bites him on the arm. Beating it and driving it away, an injured Glendon nonetheless returns home with his prized plant and places it under an artificial “moon lamp” in his London laboratory. The lab comes complete with a circa 1935 closed-circuit TV so that he can see his young wife Lisa (Valerie Hobson) coming to remind him of the botanical society party they’re hosting. When Lisa accuses Wilfred of neglecting her for his work, he tells her “As soon as I’ve completed that experiment, I’ll try to be more…well, more human.” If he only knew.
At the party–a highlight of which is a display of carnivorous flora–Lisa is reunited with childhood crush Paul (Lester Matthews), while Glendon meets a fellow scientist, Dr. Yogami (frequent screen Charlie Chan Warner Oland), who claims they “encountered” one another briefly in Tibet. We, of course, know what he’s implying. Yogami was also after the Mariphasa, but claims he needs its blossoms as a temporary antidote to turning into a werewolf.
“The werewolf is neither man nor wolf,” he explains, “but a Satanic creature with the worst qualities of both.” Yogami also warns him that the beast “instinctively seeks to kill the thing it loves best.” A disbelieving Glendon learns the terrifying truth when his hands start spouting fur and claws and he’s able to reverse it with one of the flowers.
The next night, however, someone (no spoilers) breaks into the lab and takes the two remaining blooms. Wilfred is thus unable to stop his nocturnal transformation, a nicely rendered effects shot with Hull becoming more hirsute as he walks behind one column after another. Having enough presence of mind to don a cloak, scarf, and cap against the damp London air, the bestial botanist follows Lisa and Paul to a social at her Aunt Ettie’s (Spring Byington) home, but is chased away to instead prey on another victim.
As the animalistic assaults continue, Glendon tries hiding out at a remote family estate. As luck would have it, Lisa and Paul show up for a visit, and when the werewolf tries to attack them Paul recognizes it as his old flame’s spouse (more about Hull’s make-up later). Now desperate to get the Mariphasa to bloom before his curse claims another victim, Glendon encounters Yogami using the last flower and kills him in a fight. Can Paul and his uncle (Lawrence Grant)–who just happens to be Scotland Yard chief–reach the Glendons before Lisa falls prey to her hairy hubby?
Due to the greater success of The Wolf Man six years later, Werewolf of London is kind of an overlooked entry in the Universal Monsters roll call. Both Hull and Oland give fine performances touched with pathos over their characters’ fates. Interestingly, early plans for the film called for the studio’s two kings of horror, Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi, to star in Hull’s and Oland’s roles, respectively, but production on Bride of Frankenstein kept Karloff too busy (Lugosi would go on to play the cursed gypsy who bites Lon Chaney, Jr. in The Wolf Man).
As the studio’s first crack at a lycanthrope-themed thriller, the film glosses over the more supernatural flavor of its successor while keeping parts of the lore (bites infecting victims, the full moon, et al.) intact. It also seems to borrow more from other early ’30s horror fare. Glendon’s obsessed scientist recalls Dr. Frankenstein and Paramount’s Dr. Jekyll, while the love triangle elements bring to mind more implied examples from Frankenstein and The Invisible Man. There’s even a comic relief landlady reminiscent of The Invisible Man’s Una O’Connor. Oh, and the reason that love triangle feels more real here might be due to the fact that Hobson (who also co-starred in Bride of Frankenstein the same year) was all of 18 years old, 27 years younger than Hull.
The werewolf make-up, courtesy of Universal’s acclaimed “monster maker” Jack Pierce, is more subdued with its widow’s peak and bushy brows than the look he used on Chaney in The Wolf Man. The story goes that Pierce’s original plans were for a hairier image similar to the ’41 film, but star Hull objected. Whether it as because he didn’t want to spend hours in the make-up chair or he felt the more subtle appearance was key to his character’s being recognized is a source of debate.
You know, between Drs. Glendon and Yogami both being afflicted, a more accurate name for this film would have been Werewolves of London. But who ever heard of a title like that?