There’s nothing quite like a Universal horror film, especially around this time of year, when we all tend to dip into the more unsettling side of cinema. It’s a pleasant and unforgettable experience to nestle into a chilly autumnal evening (or springtime, depending on where you are choosing to be terrorized), armed with the knowledge that what you’re about to witness is going to be extraordinarily special. James Whale redefined horror, and at his peak was producing some of the greatest entries into the genre, the impact of many still being felt today, Whale leaving behind arguably one of the finest legacies in the history of cinema. The Invisible Man was made in between two of his most unimpeachable masterpieces, Frankenstein and Bride of Frankenstein, the latter of which can legitimately lay claim to being the greatest horror of the Golden Age of Hollywood, not to mention other fantastic horror films (such as The Old Dark House), and the occasional foray into melodrama and other genres. Whale was nothing if not consistently unpredictable – and yet, The Invisible Man stands as arguably his most inventive work, both in terms of form and content. The journey to bringing H.G. Wells’ iconic novel to the screen was tumultuous (with Whale’s involvement waxing and waning for several years), when when it finally came to fruition, there’s truly nothing that can compare with the unhinged brilliance of this masterful, wickedly demented and gloriously bizarre science fiction odyssey that helps set the standard for an entire genre that would follow in the enormously intimidating footsteps left by a director who seemed to be able to produce masterpieces at an alarming rate, this film in particular being one of his crowning achievements, and a film I continue to grow more fond of as I think back on its unrepentant audacity.

Something that we often don’t talk about in relation to these early works of horror is how wildly funny they are. While it may be designed to primarily unsettle and terrify, there is something so peculiar about The Invisible Man, which often plays as a deranged comedy more than it does a horror (although Whale masterfully blends genre together, something that he had done previously, such as in the wickedly funny but deeply disturbing domestic dark comedy, The Old Dark House). The director plucks out so much humour from every situation in this film, leaning into the inherent absurdity, without making it an outright comedy. Part of Whale’s artistic brilliance was his ability to balance different conventions in a way that was supplementary to one another – and in this film, the horror allows him to explore the concept of terror, and the humour lightens the tone, adding some much-needed levity to a film that was well-aware of the inherent silliness at its core, but never to the point where it could be considered self-deprecating. Not many horror films can profess to being able to elicit as many hearty chuckles as it does shudders of terror, but if there was ever a filmmaker who would be able to do it, it would be Whale, whose ferocious determination to push the genre far beyond the confines established by the studios that saw horror as B-movie fodder, rather than artistically-resonant works in their own right. Infusing the film with a dark, acidic sense of humour makes The Invisible Man even more extraordinary, since it adds layers onto an already complex story, executing all of it in the span of only 71-minutes, one of the many perks of a Universal horror film – they terrify and entertain, all in just over an hour.

The Invisible Man also served as a great introduction for Claude Rains into the world of cinema, having previously only had a small role in a British silent film over a decade before, instead honing his craft on the stage. Looking back, Rains defined the concept of the ultimate character actor, someone whose face we know, but name often escapes us, a result of his immense versatility and ability to disappear into a role. This has never been more true than in The Invisible Man, where the first time we actually physically see Rains (or rather his face) is right at the end, with the rest of the film consisting of either the actor having his recognizable visage entirely covered in bandages, or absent entirely from the scene in terms of physical presence. Yet, despite giving a performance that is essentially nothing more than voice-over work, Rains is absolutely stellar – his ability to use only his voice and a few physical scenes where he isn’t given the chance to make use of his distinct expressivity, and yet still turn in one of the scariest portrayals of a villain of this era is incredible, but certainly not unexpected in any way. Rains was extremely gifted, bringing so much to a role that could’ve just been a trivial villain, but turns into one of the most sinister, foreboding antagonists in the history of horror. William Harrigan is a perfect patsy to Rains’ maniacal Dr Griffin, acting as the reluctant scientist drawn into his former partner’s scheme, forced into submission as a way of avoiding a very certain demise at the invisible hands of a man who realizes his biggest strength is his ability to disappear entirely. Early horror films often featured some of the most fascinating performances and meaningful characterizations, which aren’t often discussed, despite rivalling work being done in the more traditional genres at the time.

Despite being made over eight decades ago, The Invisible Man is still an oddly resonant piece of cinema, not only because the story is captivating, but the execution is absolutely stellar. The special effects employed in this film may be slightly dated, but they’re no less impressive – the illusion of the titular villain and his ability to disappear into the ether, is incredibly well-done, allowing us to easily suspend our disbelief and surrender to the peculiar oddities of this film. Whale was a director who possessed multiple skills, and having already spoken about how he balances comedy and horror in terms of the tone, and draws out some very strong performances from his actors, we have to remark on how he ties it all together with an effortlessly striking film that is as visually layered as it is narratively complex. Whale was an extraordinarily gifted filmmaker that had many gifts that he often utilized in many genres, but it will always be in horror that he made his most profound impression. The Invisible Man works because he keeps everything remarkably simple – a direct, straightforward narrative that is supplemented by technological innovation in the execution that was certainly cutting edge for the time, and remains just as enthralling today, perhaps being even more impressive, considering how modern technology has rendered absolutely any kind of imagery possible, but yet the practical effects that form the heart of this film are somehow more impressive. As many of the devoted supporters of practical effects will undoubtedly say, technology should only be used for those instances where authentic, man-made innovation can’t solve a problem – and throughout The Invisible Man, Whale makes excellent use of the medium to unsettle us with this truly impressive display of artistic ingenuity.

Every moment in The Invisible Man has the madcap energy that really only existed during this era, formed as a result of the laissez-faire approach to allowing horror directors to do whatever they felt was appropriate, granted the production was quick, cheap and didn’t place too much burden on the supposed “prestige pictures” that have become obscured by history, while these supposed “B-movies” are now amongst the most iconic pieces of filmmaking produced at the time. It certainly is a film targetted at specific members of the audience – but it is still very welcoming to neophytes, its sense of humour and very accessible story never allowing the film to become too unapproachable. In fact, The Invisible Man may be one of the finest entries into both the science fiction and horror genres of the classical era, the intricate details and bold strokes being absolutely impeccable and just as good as anything that has been produced since, even with the advent of more advanced technology. Whale put every iota of effort he could muster into telling this story, and the result is a tightly-made horror that carries the spirit of unimpeachable innovation, which is made even more enticing by the genuine fondness the director had for this genre, constantly experimenting and finding new ways to terrify his devoted followers, which have proven to extend through the decades and across generations, who remain captivated by the esteemed maestro’s incredible voyages into the human psyche, as done through a series of enticing and complex horror films that entertain and terrify in equal measure – and in the case of The Invisible Man, perhaps even pull out a few genuine chuckles along the way.