H.G. Wells is inarguably one of the most influential voices in the history of science fiction, essentially aiding in pioneering the genre and establishing a clear set of conventions that are still the inspiration behind much of modern speculative fiction. His work has received its fair share of cinematic adaptations, going back to the earliest days of film and radio, when the likes of Claude Rains and Orson Welles had their breakthrough when working through Wells’ work in the form of The Invisible Man and The War of the Worlds respectively. However, as enticing as these adaptations may be, the ones that are truly fascinating are the works that aren’t directly derived from his writings, but rather influenced by them, often being made outside the English-speaking world, where many international artists embraced the author’s ability to blend horror and science fiction in one discomfiting package. One of the most compelling comes in the form of The Invisible Man Appears (Japanese: 透明人間現わる), which may not be directly related to anything that Wells wrote, but rather one that was inspired by both his original novel, and the 1933 film, borrowing elements of both in Nobuo Adachi’s ambitious attempt to establish a new movement in Japanese cinema centred around more speculative stories, pioneering a previously unseen set of conventions, which would go on to become quite influential, the remnants of which still remain wholly present in contemporary Japanese cinema – and all of this is done through some very clever but simple filmmaking techniques that make The Invisible Man Appears an oddly enthralling experience, both as a story and a piece of science fiction.

There are numerous layers to The Invisible Man Appears, the first of them being the scientific approach to the story. On both ends of the film, the statement “there is no good or evil in science, but it can be used for good or evil purposes” appears, which sets the foundation for what the director is doing with this story. Unlike the original Wells text, and the Hollywood adaptation (which were more focused on the more horror-centric elements), Adachi is more invested in the actual science, and how it functions in relation to the lives of these characters, which draws to the philosophical underpinnings of the story, with the film being constantly in dialogue between the two elements. There isn’t any concept of morality in science itself – it is an objective truth, the result of various components coming together to produce a particular reaction. Instead, it is the people who are most notably the cause and consequence of the mishandling of science. These issues exist in comparison to one another, constantly oscillating between the two, leading to some remarkable commentary on the nature of science, and how it is an area that wields considerable power, which can occasionally be misused by individuals who don’t quite understand the concept of restraint. The Invisible Man Appears has many fascinating conversations centred on these ideas, drawing promising material out of the most seemingly abstract philosophical discussions, which sharply contrast with the conversations on science, and whether it should have a limit.

Putting aside the deeper narrative and thematic elements of the story, and instead looking at it purely as a film, The Invisible Man Appears is a very impressive achievement all on its own. Much like James Whale’s adaptation of the Wells novel, this film contains special effects that are more interesting than anything being produced on computers today. The director was modelling The Invisible Man Appears as an entry into the new but revolutionary genre of tokusatsu, which mainly referred to Japanese films that made use of special effects for a variety of purposes. It is often quite rough around the edges, and we can often see small flaws in their approach – but for a film produced in 1949, in a country still recovering from the end of a devastating war (and thus not having many resources to express themselves artistically, in comparison to other major cinematic markets), the amount of work that went into The Invisible Man Appears is beyond staggering. The film didn’t have the benefit of a spirited leading performance such as the one provided by Claude Rains a decade earlier, but what it lacks in distinct characterization, it makes up for in sheer audacity, the effort put into ensuring that there is a direct correlation between the narrative and the visual aspects of the story, being primarily what makes The Invisible Man Appears such a fascinating film, and one that has stood the test of time so well. Inarguably, it requires some suspension of disbelief – after all, there are moments where it is exceedingly obvious what was done to achieve these effects. Yet, it’s far more interesting than nearly anything else being produced today, since there’s a charm in practical effects that will simply never be replaced by technological innovation, since creative ingenuity is far more powerful than even the most stunning machine-constructed images. If there was ever a film that promotes the idea of Luddism as an artistic style, The Invisible Man Appears would be a perfect candidate, since the unique effects are truly captivating, even when they’re often imperfect.

Like many films produced under a particular genre, The Invisible Man Appears is not a film that everyone will enjoy – it is made on quite a small budget, which is often quite evident in both the story and the visual manifestation of it. However, for those with a taste for the abstract, especially when it comes to science fiction, a genre that has undergone multiple changes over the years, and have rarely remained stagnant. This is a quintessentially Japanese film – in between moments of broad scientific speculation, there are sequences centred around art (such as a gorgeous scene early on in the film, where there is a stunning replication of a kabuki production, an interesting inclusion considering how much of this film owes to that style of theatre) and romance, with much of the plot revolving around characters working towards a particular resolution, which involves winning the hand in marriage of a particularly desirable young maiden, who prove       s to actually be the film’s most complex character. Simple in theory, but beautifully bizarre in execution, The Invisible Man Appears is a very special film – it keeps us entertained, and never feels like it is aiming to be too overly complex, the narrative structure being quite straightforward, allowing us to rarely feel lost, despite the extravagant nature of the story. As a whole, The Invisible Man Appears is an absolute triumph, a daring and compelling science fiction drama that pays attention to the most important qualities, and makes sure that there is always something to stir thought and discussion in every scene, making for an enthralling experience that was far ahead of its time.