Movie Monsters

by Peter Haining

  Coriolis allowed himself to be taken in by these words. For, as the prefect guessed, the terrible thing was that, in spite of Balaoo’s crimes and Madeleine’s abduction, Coriolis instinctively wished to save Balaoo. His hails on the roofs of the Hôtel-de-Ville were, above all, warnings, entreaties to fly!

  The moment that it was no longer a question of killing Balaoo, Coriolis would call to him in different terms; and, in fact, he ceased to address him with a man’s shout and cried, in monkey language:

  ‘Tourôô! Tourôô! Tourôô! . . . Gooot! . . . Woop!’ (‘All right! All right! All right! . . . Come! . . .Please)

  Then and there, the monster was seen to put his head cautiously between two planks of the scaffolding and anxiously to look down upon that numberless and, for the moment, silent crowd.

  This silence, after the late tumult, seemed to surprise and alarm him. With a hesitating movement, he screwed his eye-glass into his eye and leant still further forward, bending almost his whole body over the group whence came the friendly words of his native tongue:

  ‘Tourôô! . . . Gooot! . . . Woop!’

  And bang! The shot was fired, the shot from the rifle with the explosive bullets of Barthuiset the lion-killer.

  An immense, prodigious and prolonged shout, made up of thousands and thousands of cries, rose up from the town, from the streets of the delivered capital.

  The pithecanthrope had toppled over and, in his turn, fell at the foot of those walls of which he had been the terror. But he fell upon a mound of soft earth and did not succumb for the first few minutes. And the citizens of Paris were able to hear the dying agony of the monkey, of the great anthropoid ape, of the great ancestor, as it is heard in the depths of the equatorial forests and as it lingers in the expiring bodies of our mysterious brothers the animals, even among those which are not exactly pithecanthropes.

  The citizens heard that despairing wail, of which Louis Jacolliot, the traveller, has written:

  ‘At the supreme moment of death, the terrible brute gives forth sounds that are very nearly human. . . . Its last wail gives you the impression of something higher in the scale of nature; and you feel as though you had committed a murder.’

  Coriolis, as that shot rang out, felt his heart break; and it was, for a moment, as though he himself had been shot dead. He saw the great body spin through the air, he rushed forward as if to catch it in his arms. Fortunately, the creature crashed to the ground beside him, without touching him. Coriolis flung himself upon those dying remains that lay groaning like a man.

  He bent over the body. . . and, suddenly, he rose to his feet, with a mad yell of triumph: it was not Balaoo!

  No, that big dead monkey, dressed as a man and wearing an eye-glass like Balaoo, was not Balaoo. A few hours later, it was known that he was Gabriel, the big Java ape from the Jardin des Plantes. As he had played many a prank in his time and repeatedly shown signs of temper, his formidable vagary was easily explained: he had made his escape by taking advantage of the boozy negligence of the keeper, who was always slipping away to the wine-shop round the corner.

  Was there any reason to be surprised that, with his ‘All right! All right! All right! Come! Please!’ irresistible instinct for mimicry and assimilation, he had prigged a suit of clothes and put them on? No, from this point of view, we need be astonished at nothing, in monkeys.

  Gabriel’s cage, like many others at the Jardin des Plantes, was a double cage, with a railed open-air compartment and another railed compartment inside the lion-house. The communicating-door was usually left open, so that Gabriel could seek sun or shade according to the temperature and the time of day. As the keeper or the visitor can see only one compartment at a time, each must have thought that Gabriel was in the second when he was looking into the first and vice versa. And this explained how Gabriel was able, for several days and nights, to scour the roofs of the capital and frighten the town with his sinister exploits before his absence from the Jardin des Plantes was discovered.

  But then where was the famous pithecanthrope, the monster, half man and half brute, who spoke the language of men? What had become of Coriolis’ invention?

  The police were much too glad to be rid of one monster to saddle themselves with another. They declared, without delay, that Coriolis’ invention was a figment of that diseased brain, treated the professor as a monomaniac and asked him to go and cloister his monomania in his house in the Rue de Jussieu, holding himself meanwhile at the disposal of the police.

  The day that saw the deliverance of Paris saw also that of the missing girls. They were discovered by the greatest of accidents, at a moment when people were despairing of ever learning what Gabriel had done with them.

  Maddened by the hue and cry, the great ape had ended by carrying the poor things to the roof of the Louvre and had managed to fling them more dead than alive into an attic, where he locked them up. They were all found safe and sound, though obviously very ill. Nevertheless, the ape had done them no harm.

  The books written by travellers in the equatorial forests furnish us with examples of this kind of rape in which the ‘wild men of the woods’ take a futile and childish pleasure and which can only be compared with the passion of the thieving magpie for collecting objects which it accumulates in hiding-places known to itself alone.

  The girls owed their life to the scientific and naval curiosity of a certain M Benezecque, a schoolmaster in a small parish not far from Montauban; for they would all have died of hunger and thirst in their sequestered attic, if M Benezecque, driven by a wish to inspect some models of ships, had not climbed to the top floor of our famous old palace, where a long series of dull blows informed him that some one was calling for help, blows struck against a door near the thirteenth-century gallery which you can see to this day, between the hours of eleven and four, on Mondays, Wednesdays and Sundays.

  But what of Balaoo?

  In truth he had already begun the journey back to the forest of Bandong from whence he had come. There he hoped to begin again the life he had once known long before he had fallen into the hands of the Human Race.

  THE GOLEM

  by Chayim Bloch

  The .youthful German cinema industry gave audiences the second important monster film in The Golem, first made in 1914, and then brilliantly re-filmed in 1920. This story of a giant man, created from clay and given life by a Jewish Rabbi named Judah Loew, was based on a four-hundred-year-old legend from Prague which told of the Golem’s creation in order to protect the city’s Jews from persecution. The legend caught the attention of Chayim Bloch (1881–1935), a folkiorist, who in 1914 published a fictionalised version of the story entitled Der Golem in the weekly newspaper, the Oesterreichischen Wochenschrift. Though Bloch embroidered his text with dialogue, it was based on extensive research and was welcomed by scholars and the general public alike.

  One of the readers of this serial was the German actor, Paul Wegener, who had just filmed the classic fantasy story The Student Of Prague, and was on the way to becoming, after Mèliés, the second film-maker to specialise in the supernatural. The story fascinated him not only because he had recently visited Prague and learned a little of the legend, but also because his massive figure and commanding presence made him an ideal person to play the Golem on film. With the help of the scriptwriter Henrik Galeen, Wegener adapted Bloch’s story for the cinema and found backing for the movie from the German company, Bioscop. Wegener was outfitted with an enormous wig, an oversized coat and three-inch platform boots, which made him look even more impressive, especially in scenes with his small friend Henrik Galeen, who played the part of his ‘creator’, Rabbi Loew. The picture was an immediate success in Europe and looked set to achieve similar acclaim in America, where it was retitled The Monster Of Fate. However, it unfortunately opened the same week that the USA broke off diplomatic relations with Germany, because of the war that had erupted in Europe, and was rapidly withdrawn.

  In 1917, Wegener made a sequel, The Golem And The Dan
cing Girl, all copies of which have now disappeared; and then in 1920 he took the original story and directed for the German UFA Company a second and more ambitious version, which is an undisputed masterpiece. Again, Wegener collaborated on the script with Henrik Galeen, utilising the sections of Chayim Bloch’s story which are reprinted here. This time, though, Albert Steinriick played the monster’s creator and Lyda Salmonova the role of the Rabbi’s daughter with whom the Golem falls hopelessly in love, an element added to the legend by Wegener. There were many benchmark moments in the picture: the monster’s first uncertain movements as he came to life, his shambling walk, and a confrontation with a little child who, quite unafraid, offers him an apple – all of which were to reappear in later monster movies.

  Karl Freund, who photographed the 1920 Golem, was later to leave Germany for Hollywood, where he would work on Dracula with Bela Lugosi (1931) and then direct another of my selections, The Mummy.

  Wegener and his team had, in effect, created the prototype monster movie and its influence remains undiminished to this day.

  * * *

  THE GOLEM

  by Chayim Bloch

  In the year 1580, in the city of Prague, a fanatical priest named Thaddeus was attempting to bring mischievous charges against the Jews. Besides incitatory sermons, he was restlessly seeking, together with others of his frame of mind, to spread accusations of ritual murder and to mislead Jewish girls in order to influence them into accepting the Christian belief.

  Learning of this, the Rabbi Judah Loew prayed to Heaven, asking to be counselled as to the manner and means wherewith to combat this wicked foe.

  He received the following answer in words in alphabetical order:

  Ato Bra Golem Devuk Hakhomer V’tigzar Zedim Chevel Torfe Yisroel.

  ‘Make a Golem of clay and you will destroy the entire Jewbaiting company.’

  Rabbi Loew arranged these words in accordance with the Zirufim (formulas) laid down in the Sefer Yezirath (Book of Creation), with the result that he was filled with the conviction that he would be able, with the help of the letters revealed to him from Heaven, to make a living body out of clay.

  He sent for his son-in-law, Isaac ben Simson, who was a Kohen (priest), and for his pupil, Jacob ben Chayim Sasson, who was a Levi (Levite), and confided to them the mysterious manner in which he hoped to be able to make the Golem.

  Rabbi Loew said: ‘I wish to make a Golem, and I bespeak your collaboration because for this creative act the four elements, Aysch, Majim, Ruach, Aphar (fire, water, air and earth) are necessary. Thou, Isaac, art the element of fire; thou, Jacob, art the element of water; I, myself, am air; working together, we shall make out of the fourth element, earth, a Golem.’

  Rabbi Loew, thereupon, gave them the minutest instructions how they must before all, through deep, earnest penitence, sanctify and purify themselves, in order to be prepared for the exalted work of creating a being of stone. He also pointed out to them the danger in which the three of them might be placed if, by reason of incomplete inner sanctification, the attempt would fail, for they would then have used the Holy name in vain, or desecrated it.

  On the second day of the month of Adar, after midnight, the three men betook themselves to the Mikveh (the ritual bath of the Jews), immersed themselves this time with special reverence, then repaired to Rabbi Loew’s house where they chanted the Haoth, the midnight lament for Jerusalem, and in deepest devotion recited the appropriate Psalms. They then took out the Sefer Yezirah, from which Rabbi Loew read several chapters aloud. Finally, they wended their way to the outskirts of the city, to the banks of the Moldau. There, they sought and found a clay-bed and at once set to work.

  By torch-light and amidst the chanting of Psalms, the work was begun with feverish haste.

  They formed out of clay the figure of a person, three ells in length, and with all members. And the Golem lay before them with his face turned toward heaven.

  The three men then placed themselves at its feet, so that they could gaze fully into its face.

  It lay there like a dead body, without any movement.

  Then, Rabbi Loew bade the Kohen walk seven times around the clay body, from right to left, confiding to him the Zirufim (charms) which he was to recite while doing this.

  When this was done, the clay body became red, like fire.

  Then Rabbi Loew bade the Levite walk the same number of times, from left to right, and taught him also the formulas suitable to his element. As he completed his task, the fire-redness was extinguished, and water flowed through the clay body; hair sprouted on its head, and nails appeared on the fingers and toes.

  Then Rabbi Loew himself walked once around the figure, placed in its mouth a piece of parchment inscribed with the Schem (the name of God); and, bowing to the East and the West, the South and the North, all three recited together: ‘And he breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul.’ (Genesis ii, 7.)

  And the three elements, Fire, Water, and Air, brought it about that the fourth element, Earth, became living. The Golem opened his eyes and looked, astonished, about him.

  And Rabbi Loew said to him: ‘Stand up!’ And he stood up. Then they dressed him in the garments of a Shammes (sexton) and he was soon, to all appearances, an ordinary person; only the faculty of speech was lacking to him, for those words which Heaven had confided to him did not possess the power to control those Zirufzm which could have endowed the Golem with speech. And that was really an advantage. God knows what could have happened if a Golem had been given the faculty of speech also!

  At daybreak, four men went homeward.

  On the way, Rabbi Loew thus addressed the Golem: ‘Know thou that we have formed thee from a clod of earth. It will be thy task to protect the Jews from persecution. Thou shalt be called Joseph and thou shalt lodge in the home of the Rabbi. Thou, Joseph, must obey my commands, when and whither I may send thee – in fire and water; or if I command you to jump from the housetop, or if I send thee to the bed of the sea!’

  Joseph nodded in token of assent.

  Arrived home, Rabbi Loew told how he had found the dumb stranger upon the street, that he had compassion upon him and had engaged him as rabbinical bodyservant. But Rabbi Judah forbade the members of his household to send the Golem upon private or secular errands.

  The wife of Rabbi Loew could not, however, understand why her husband had forbidden the use of the Golem for private purposes. And when, just before Passover, she was short of help she allowed herself to give the Golem orders to fill the two large water kegs which stood in the kitchen which was all prepared for the holiday. She thought also that a service in preparation for the Passover feast did not come under the head of secular purposes.

  But she had a very unpleasant experience.

  The Golem took the pails and ran swiftly to the brook.

  Several hours later the courtyard of the house of the Rabbi was flooded with water, and people were crying: ‘Water! Water!’ The secret source from which this water was flowing was sought. But it was not found until the Golem was seen patiently obeying his orders by continuing to pour water into the kegs which had been filled a long time before. This explained the flood and there was much laughter over the Golem’s mistake.

  Rabbi Loew said to his wife jestingly: ‘You have certainly found an excellent water carrier for the holidays. If you had only explained to him that he should stop when the kegs were full!’

  The Golem, however, entirely unconcerned by the episode, continued his work and went again to the brook to get water. Then Rabbi Loew exclaimed, ‘Enough! Enough water!’ and the Golem at once put down the pails.

  Since that time the people took care not to give the Golem any profane work to do. To this very day in Prague people say to an unskilled artisan: ‘You are as competent for this work as was Joseph Golem as water carrier!’

  Once before the New Year holidays, Rabbi Loew himself was compelled to make use of the Golem for private purposes.

  It was
during a terrible storm. A veritable hurricane was blowing, and the rain was coming down in torrents. It was therefore impossible for fishermen to go out for their catch, and in the entire city of Prague not a single fish was to be had.

  Rabbi Loew, however, did not wish to be without fish on the holiday and decided to send the Golern fishing, because he knew that the stormy weather would be no hindrance to him.

  As there was no suitable basket handy, the Golem was given a grain sack. Rabbi Loew instructed him how to use the net and how to put the fish that were caught into the sack, and told him to come home soon.

  The Golem at once repaired to the river, entirely unconcerned by the weather. As to the meaning of the word ‘soon’ he had not the slightest idea.

  In the meantime, a man from a neighbouring village brought the Rabbi a very fine fish, so that the Golem and his errand were entirely forgotten.

  It was, however, Rabbi Loew’s custom on the afternoon preceding the Sabbath or a festival, to give the Golem instructions as to what he was to do during the rest day. When, therefore, he asked that the Golem be sent to him he was reminded that the Golem had been ordered to go fishing in the morning.

  Rabbi Loew at once sent the aged Shammes, Abraham Chayim, to call the Golem home. He told him that, in case the Golem would show him that he had not yet caught any fish, he was to say to him: ‘The Rabbi doesn’t care for the fish and wants you to come home at once!’ Quickly the Shammes went to the river and there found the Golem standing right in the raging current of water just on the point of sinking the net again.

  Abraham Chayim called to him: ‘The Rabbi wants you to come home at once!’

  But the Golem showed him by raising the sack that this was not yet full.

  Then Abraham Chayim shouted: ‘Joseph, the Rabbi said that he doesn’t care for your fish and that you can come home without any!’