At the beginning of The Invisible Man, there is a bar scene. Patrons are laughing, drinking, generally having a good time. There is one man playing the piano, but when he stops and an acquaintance puts a quarter in a slot, it begins playing again, revealing that the man was only pretending to play. Everybody laughs. The man was trying to convince us he was the source of entertainment when in fact the entertainment came from the automatic playing of the piano. This made the revelation of truth humorous. The rest of the film illustrates the inverse of that idea: the horror of the inability to see someone who is doing something. As this story plays out, The Invisible Man exhibits special effects far ahead of its time, using techniques impressive even from a modern standpoint. This combination of story and technical innovation make it one of science fiction's most enjoyable classics.

Dr. Jack Griffin has gotten himself in a bind. He developed a drug that renders its users invisible, but after using it himself he cannot change back. This has caused him distress, but, to a greater extent, it has also made him maniacal with power. After assaulting an innkeeper and fleeing the police, Griffin sets out on a violent spree with the goal of ruling the world through the fear of an invisible iron fist. The film follows Griffin as he commits increasingly heinous acts and as his loved ones (and the police) try to stop him. There is no moral gray area here. He has simply become a bad guy.

What is most outstanding about The Invisible Man is its special effects. Made in 1933, the film contains invisibility effects that are, for all practical purposes, flawless, despite the nonexistence of greenscreen technology. Using what might be referred to as “blackscreen” -- black, non-reflective surfaces over which mattes are imposed -- the filmmakers create a verisimilitude that benefits from having the real weight and substance of a person beneath the Invisible Man’s clothes. From the first unwrapping of gauze around his invisible head to a late scene of Griffin’s pants chasing a woman down the street, the effects are consistently convincing. Strings are employed at times when the invisible man picks up objects, but never do we see a ghost-like article of clothing floating flaccidly through the air. Special effects wire can occasionally be seen, and a barely-underground track is easily noticed during an Invisible Man bike ride, but the vast majority of the movie’s special effects shots are so smoothly accomplished that their excellence can literally be distracting to modern-day viewers. I don’t know what it was like to see this film during its original run, but I imagine it must have been astonishing.

At its core, The Invisible Man contains a classic theme, utilized frequently by James Whale, Universal Pictures, and early science fiction in general: the danger of wielding godlike power. In Whale’s first genre film, Frankenstein (1931), Dr. Frankenstein acquires the power to bestow life, and it drives him mad. Here, Dr. Griffin acquires the ability to move and act unseen, and he experiences the same fate. The stories take slightly different approaches to the material, however. Whereas Frankenstein is a demonstration of the transition from extreme ambition to madness, The Invisible Man begins with that madness and allows us to watch it play out in full. In fact Griffin is one of the most evil main characters to be found in sci-fi films of this era, even rivaling the malevolence of Bride of Frankenstein’s Dr. Pretorius. Griffin shoves an innkeeper down a flight of stairs when the latter orders him to leave, he kills a man by pushing his car off a cliff, and he derails an entire passenger train as a gesture of his tyranny. The movie is daring in this way. Unlike most mad scientists in similar films, Griffin is almost irredeemable.

I say he is almost irredeemable because there turns out to be a scientific explanation for Griffin’s madness. This is the film's only notable flaw. After we are shown numerous examples of the Invisible Man’s malevolence, the film offers a scene in which another scientist, the father of Griffin’s fiancée, explains that the drug that made him invisible also causes insanity. So, while the film can still be viewed as a metaphor of the consequences of wielding a power not meant for man, it can no longer, strictly speaking, be viewed as an actual demonstration of power driving a man to commit such atrocities. This detail was likely inserted to provide a guilt-free telling of such a tale for 1930s audiences and to allow for an upbeat ending, but it is still unfortunate. It does not make the film less enjoyable, but it does weaken its meaning.

Ironically, the fact that lead actor Claude Rains is invisible throughout the film highlights his acting ability. Though he does appear garbed and with his head wrapped in bandages, his physical body, most importantly his face, is totally invisible for all but the final moments of the film, and he therefore is often restricted to his voice as his only acting tool. It was a smart casting decision to place a man with such a distinctive and dramatic voice in the role, but it is nonetheless surprising how well Rains handles the situation. His stony, rolling voice lends both an authority and a beauty to his words, and his intonation, which can shift from serious to whimsical in the middle of a sentence, presents him as a man who relishes his iniquity. The great Boris Karloff was slated for this role before the studio decided it was unable to pay that actor his usual fee.¹ This turned out for the best. Not even Karloff could have pulled off this role with the panache that Rains commands.

The Invisible Man came out the same year we were graced with King Kong, another film of great technical accomplishment. What is astounding about these movies, however, and what allows them to retain respectability and enjoyability, is that their special effects are not used in lieu of story but are used to complement and strengthen it. We get action scenes, and we get scenes that are fun, but they work to better the rest of the film, not to steal the show. That is why they last.