They quite simply don’t make horror films like they used to. Something about the way filmmakers during the Golden Age of Hollywood managed to terrify audiences has allowed several to remain as effective today as they were at the time of their original release. The rise of the B-movie and monster film allowed many directors who weren’t content with the mainstream tendency towards screwball comedies, romantic melodramas and heroic westerns to assert their own vision in a controlled space, being given relatively free reign to make the films that were aligned with their taste of the absurd and unsettling. There are many legitimate classics that are continuously promoted as being amongst the most influential in the genre, but one film that is often neglected in this regard is The Body Snatcher. Not necessarily an obscure film, but also not one that is widely appreciated, the film (which was written and produced by horror maestro Val Lewton, and helmed by Robert Wise in an early directorial outing) resides off the beaten track, being cherished by a small group of devotees, but mainly underseen by the wider horror audience. This is inexplicable, because it is both a great film all on its own, and a very influential work that has found its way into several horror films that were made in later decades, many directors owing a considerable debt to Wise and Lewton for their work. At a mere 78 minutes, there’s very little time for The Body Snatcher to waste, and like any great horror film from the era, economy is a more valuable commodity than anything else, which (when coupled with the excellent narrative) makes for a very peculiar but compelling work of pure terror.

As with any genre, there are those masters who we come to associate with certain kinds of films. In some instances, there are some that without whom the entire genre would not exist, at least not in the form we know it as today. Lewton was one such person, with his work as a producer and screenwriter for a couple of major studios and their genre departments making him someone whose stature in the industry may not be widely known outside of those with an intimate knowledge of the period or the genre in which he worked, but has remained undeniably important. Whether his work as an assistant to executives (rumour has it that he is the person responsible for suggesting the famous sweeping shot of wounded Civil War soldiers in Gone with the Wind), or his smaller work, where he had a bit more authorial power, Lewton’s work was consistently strong. The Body Snatcher is one of his slightly lesser-known works (although having only been involved in a small handful of films, one could argue they are all bespoke in their own way), and while it may not have the striking ideas of Cat People or I Walked with a Zombie, it compensates with a visceral quality that is slightly difficult to describe, but which makes perfect sense in context. Set in Victorian-era Scotland in a prestigious medical school, the film uses the real-life events surrounding the graverobbing phenomenon (most associated with Burke and Hare, who are mentioned several times here) to evoke fear. Never one to step behind the camera as a director himself, with the exception of one credit, Lewton placed his faith in Wise to bring this story to screen, and while he would go on to be a much more prominent director, Wise proved that he could easily weave together a few memorable ideas in the form of a truly thrilling work of unhinged horror.

Naturally, it’s not solely Wise and Lewton that are worth praising, especially since a large portion of the success behind The Body Snatcher comes on behalf of Boris Karloff. One of horror cinema’s greatest icons, he is best known for playing Frankenstein’s Monster in the films that launched Universal’s dominance of the horror genre, as well as a range of other characters that made use of Karloff’s intimidating size and incredible expressivity. The Body Snatcher is slightly different – he’s playing a living mortal without any particularly notable condition, outside of a touch of violent psychopathy. Yet, Cabman Gray is just as monstrous as any of his other characters, and sees the esteemed actor doing some of his absolute best work. In this film, he’s as dependent on his hulking stature and intimidating stare as he is on his incredible eloquence, which is a bit more rare in his earlier films. His evil is contained in his terrifying smirk and ability to simultaneously charm and unsettle with nothing but a few well-placed sentences that hint at the dangers lurking below his endearing persona. Considering how The Body Snatcher was the first film Karloff made after leaving his contract at Universal, and instead taking the tempting offer from RKO, it’s likely that he was seeking a change of pace – and while his performance may not be as distinct in terms of memorable moments as some of his other roles, it’s certainly one that shows a remarkable amount of depth and nuance that is neither better nor worse than his work with Universal – it’s just different in all the ways necessary to show that Karloff was undeniably one of the greatest actors to ever work in the medium, so much that an icon of equal stature (the great Bela Lugosi) has a pivotal role here, but barely even registers, since every time Karloff is on screen, he commands it like few of his contemporaries could ever hope to have accomplished.

The way Karloff is characterized in The Body Snatcher speaks to some of the film’s broader qualities that keep us engaged and allow this to be a much more complex work than it seems to be on the surface. Primarily, we encounter a film that (like many similar works at the time) questions the nature of humanity through the lens of terror, which has always been one of the most common qualities of several horror films. However, unlike using the concept of monstrosity as its entry point, it looks at something more realistic, but not any less unsettling. Casting actors like Karloff and Lugosi in these roles was more than just an attempt to draw in audiences familiar with their work – it was a calculated effort, done to create a scenario where these two actors, most known for playing literal monsters, were tasked with bringing to life a pair of characters who may technically be rooted in reality, but are somehow much more unsettling as a result of their actions. Despite being on opposing ends of the spectrum, both Lugosi and Karloff are playing characters that barely resemble people, based only on how the story frames them as being almost otherworldly, and contrasted with the deeply disquieting story that is as repulsive as it is haunting, we find ourselves becoming increasingly lost in this world, carefully guided through these nightmarish scenes by a director who understands the vital nature of ensuring that every frame carries some deeper meaning, regardless of what it may be, especially in a film with as many wildly disparate ideas as this one.

The Body Snatcher is yet another magnificent entry into the strong careers of both Lewton and Wise (not to discredit Philip MacDonald, whose collaboration with the former on the screenplay deserves the same amount of kudos – it’s a supremely well-written film, with a lot of witty dialogue that conceals some sinister secrets), and it remains one of the more effective horror films of a decade in which audiences were growing slightly weary of monster films, and were searching for something slightly more interesting, at least in terms of real-world implications. It’s not a film that makes its intentions clear from the start – if anything, our experience with the horrors lurking beneath the surface are cumulative rather than being presented to us from the outset. Lewton and Wise build on a sense of uncompromising terror, punctuating them with more plausible scenes in order to anchor them within a version of reality that may be heightened, but is still at the very least intriguing on a fundamental level. Well-crafted and deeply moving, and told with the kind of steadfast precision that makes for some really terrific storytelling, The Body Snatcher is a film ripe for discovery, both for some of its more universal themes when it comes to traditional horror, and as a work that carries an unexpected depth, which becomes increasingly more obvious the more we find our way through this disquieting version of the world.