The majority of contemporary horror filmmakers may be consistently trying to overtake one another to create the most terrifying, unhinged works imaginable and earn the title of being the modern master of the genre, but there is very little doubt that the best horror films are those that were produced much earlier, when intrepid directors and writers set out to explore the untrodden territory, crafting films in a genre that had yet to earn its popularity but was almost instantly iconic since it was clear from the start that audiences respond most notably to two factors: fear and laughter. Garnett Weston had several good ideas in his arsenal when he set out to write White Zombie (taking his cue from the semi-fictional novel The Magic Island by William Seabrook, which purports to be a thorough examination of Caribbean traditions, including the practice of voodoo), and which was subsequently helmed by Victor Halperin, a great journeyman director who rarely gets his due, along with his brother Edward Halperin, who served as a producer on this film. Despite its limited budget, and the fact that it was produced in that notably ambigious space known as the Pre-Code era, the filmmakers took full advantage of every artistic and ethical resource they had at their disposal to craft this film, which is often cited as Hollywood’s very first foray into the subject of zombies, albeit this being a point that is still subjected to some debate since one can never be truly certain when it comes to choosing pioneering works. However we choose to perceive this film, it becomes very clear that this is not anything short of influential in the history of horror, and it has mercifully remained quite prominent in the

Something that we don’t often discuss when it comes to earlier works of horror filmmaking is that these are very rarely scary in the traditional sense – but they never aimed to be films that frighten to the point where the viewer is scarred and plunged into a pit of existential despair (which has become a very popular quirk of many modern horror films), but rather to unsettle and entertain in equal measure. Watching a film like White Zombie nearly a century after its release, it becomes very clear that there are several components – both visual and narrative – that are not only quite disconcerting even by modern standards, but beyond indelible, with the director contributing to the process of setting the groundwork for a genre that has rarely been more beautifully composed than under his guidance. The fact that so many images in this film linger in the cultural consciousness is all the more satisfying considering how Halperin had to cobble this film together using the leftover sets, props and other miscellaneous elements from previous horror films, which only increases our estimation of this film, which is a far more engaging experience due to the offbeat nature of the production. It proves how some of the best works are not those that are meticulously planned, nor the ones that are given unlimited resources to have their vision realized. White Zombie is likely more fondly remembered than the films from which it borrowed its resources. This do-it-yourself mentality, coupled with a genuinely interesting storyline curated by a group of artists who have a deep affection for this material creates quite a unique experience, and one that is both insightful and compelling, despite its clear simplicity.

Speaking about the brilliance of White Zombie has to entail noting its presence within the Pre-Code era, the period where filmmakers took advantage of slightly more lax moral standards to tell stories that were often much darker and touched on ideas that would very soon be outright rejected by censors that aimed to infuse American cinema with an almost puritanical sense of morality. Horror films made during this time are quite intriguing since this was already a genre that skirted along the edges of controversy, and it didn’t take too much effort for the general public to have their feathers appropriately ruffled. This is something these filmmakers during this period took advantage of since there has always been value in daring to do something different, which often meant pushing boundaries. For most viewers at the time, this was likely their first encounter with the concept of zombies, and considering modern audiences tend to see the birth of the subgenre’s popularity being related to the likes of George A. Romero, having the generally accepted origin being in a film that draws its inspiration from Caribbean mythology and folklore, which is often cited as being the start of the concept of the living dead, is oddly inspiring and quite remarkable. Naturally, this requires us to be a lot more discerning, since this is a film made in the early 1930s, so we cannot expect too much nuance to be present throughout the film. However, it is very clear that there is a lot more respect towards the cultural conventions in this film than we would see in more mainstream horror films at the time – the black characters are not stereotypes, the cultural practices are viewed with respect (even if they are used as the source of horror, they are never viewed as barbaric – if anything, there is a sense of ingenuity embedded in the discussion of culture), and the overall experience feels compelling and interesting, rather than one-dimensional and myopic, which makes quite a difference, even in something as bizarre as this film.

In terms of casting, horror films usually tend to follow the same formula – one or two major icons of the genre anchor the film, and the rest of the roles are played by decent but otherwise unremarkable actors. White Zombie does not abandon this practice at all, and it serves to be another opportunity for Bela Lugosi to prove his impeccable and unique skills with a different kind of role. Setting aside the quirks that defined his Count Dracula, he takes on the appropriately-named Murder Legendre, the self-professed “master of zombies”, a mysterious individual that exists somewhere between a scientist and sorcerer, dedicating his life to the resurrection of corpses, which he uses to do his bidding (it is fascinating to see a film that doesn’t restrict zombies to just aimlessly wandering, and instead gives them an actual purpose), which forms the foundation of the film’s narrative. Lugosi is brilliant – he uses his incredible expressivity and penchant for dark humour to bring this character to life, and while it is a decidedly more simple role than we may expect from the actor, he is excellent. He is joined by Madge Bellamy and John Harron as the fateful couple that find themselves pivoting directly into the heart of his plot, while Robert W. Frazer and Joseph Cawthorn have scene-stealing supporting parts that are not particularly large, but make a profound impact on the story, particularly as they are the catalyst for the events of the film and the person who provides the necessary context respectively. It’s a good cast that doesn’t do anything particularly revolutionary but still brings nuance to this film – and while strong performances are not always necessary for these films, they can help elevate horror to a place where it isn’t only aiming to terrify but also offer something much more compelling and remarkably intriguing, which immediately draws our attention.

Cinema exists in dialogue with itself, and we find the communication between films over generations to be quite fascinating. I am not someone who would ever suggest the idea that certain films were better at one point in history than another unless it was done with some kind of confidence, which is increasingly difficult to convincingly convey without resorting to some kind of hyperbole. However, while a lot of contemporary horror is excellent and very effective, we cannot ignore the past works that sit at the heart of the genre, and while it may not always be cited as being one of the most influential entries into the canon of horror, White Zombie has made a profound impact in numerous ways, which is why it is very difficult to ignore the impact it has made over the past ninety years. A dark and sinister tale of deception and manipulation, crafted with elegance and a strange sense of humour, this is a fascinating film, and one that proves how horror does not need to be an endless stream of jumpscares and harrowing, violent moments to be effective, but can essentially rely on atmosphere to instill that feeling of despair and uncertainty in the viewer, which is a tremendous achievement all on its own, and one of the many reasons it is not difficult to appreciate this film and its often quite offbeat sense of storytelling. White Zombie has consistently been noted as being a very important work of Pre-Code horror, and its role in establishing the future of the genre is undeniable – but even taken on its terms, this is a wickedly entertaining and deeply unsettling work that remains quite creepy, even by modern standards, and any film that is capable of achieving this so early in the genre’s history has a permanent place in the canon of truly great works of art. Unsettling and brilliant, there are few films from this era more appropriately bizarre than this one, which is one of the many elements that make it such an exceptional and iconic work.