The weirdest of the old films about stranded travelers in the dead of night who take shelter in a creepy old house that’s full of secrets. There are 42,000 movies about that same scenario, but this is the only one directed by the great James Whale in his devilishly campy prime. There’s not a moment to this film that isn’t offbeat. In shadows, over candlelight, and amidst cobwebs and constant whistling wind, we meet a crusty religious nut, a hoity-toity fugitive, a 102 year old man (played by a woman, Elspeth Dudgeon), a wild-eyed pyromaniac, and a hulking ape-like silent butler (Boris Karloff, almost reprising his Frankenstein role, but in a formal suit).
Its main weakness is that it’s a bit talky. Whale grants most of his actors here a monologue to show off their theatrical British scenery-chewing. It slows things down sometimes, but the negative effects are mild. The whole thing is a light and loose affair, a fluffy scoop of meringue. Everyone seems to be having a great time.
This was a hit in England, but it bombed in the USA. Today, it’s treasured all over by admirers of Whale and his too-brief career.