The Strange Case of Doctor Rx (1942) - Mantan Moreland Gives Another Masterclass in Scene Stealing

The Strange Case of Doctor Rx is a decidedly lesser entry in the Universal horror and mystery cycle and one which pretty much deserves its obscurity. It’s a tale of avenging justice gone wrong, as our titular doctor embarks on a gruesome killing spree of recently acquitted criminals. As the bodies pile up, the police and private detective Jerry Church race against time to find the culprit’s true identity. As a brief plot synopsis the story sounds fairly interesting, but in execution the movie is anything but. What could have been an engaging whodunit is marred by the inclusion of far too many characters, a romantic subplot that descends into endless quarrelling, an all too obvious red herring and generally just far too much talking to pad out the film’s paltry 62 minutes.

By the time the mystery is solved, it’s difficult to care who Doctor Rx really is, let alone why he has been bumping off criminals. In fact there is instead a lingering resentment that he didn’t get his act together and kill off most of the cast to spare us the endless talking and bickering. So, you may ask, why am I bothering to write about such an average and uninspiring little pot boiler of a movie? The answer is simple - the inclusion in the cast of a certain actor who singlehandedly makes the movie worth watching, one Mantan Moreland. It’s been a while since I’ve had cause to write about Mantan but if ever there was an example of his unique charisma and innate ability to rise above mediocre material, it’s his performance in The Strange Case of Doctor Rx.

Here, Mantan Moreland is billed ninth and not even included in the opening credits, only the closing ones. Yet despite this he has more screen time than practically any character other than the two leads, Patric Knowles and Anne Gwynne. Sadly, one can only draw an obvious and disappointing conclusion as to why this is, and it is certainly a far cry from his featured billing while working at Monogram. Moreland, true to form for black actors in Hollywood in the 40s, plays the lead character’s manservant, but thankfully this time his role is extended beyond mere (ahem) stepping and fetching. His character, Horatio B. Fitz Washington is an interesting precursor to the role he would become most famous for, that of Birmingham Brown in the Charlie Chan movies starting in 1944. Here he is somewhat braver than the usual stock African American servant character, and despite being loyal to his ‘boss’ still gets a few good one liners in response to Patric Knowles’ at times obnoxious and unlikable character. There’s an obvious influence in the development of these sort of roles in the popularity of Eddie Anderson as Rochester in the Jack Benny Program on radio, though I don’t doubt for a minute that Mantan Moreland getting this kind of part has just as much, if not more to do with Moreland’s own  comic gifts. Nevertheless, it’s always good to see him get a lot of screen time, even if this was only ever to happen in B movies.

 

As mentioned, the film itself isn’t particularly memorable, and the script is fairly dull, but more than any other cast member Mantan Moreland wrings out every drop of potential in the bland words. It’s no exaggeration to say he steals every scene he is in and makes tired old situations at least vaguely amusing. He expertly manages to give his stock character a glimmer of an inner life just by his reactions and the small movements he makes. This is evident from his first scene where he answers the door carrying a radio (helpfully tuned to a news broadcast and filling us in on the plot) to get a telegram. The delivery boy asks whether Washington is a place or a name and Mantan snaps back “Ain’t you never heard of Washington? Ain’t you studied your history? You don’t know nothin’” , then proudly declares “That’s the greatest name there is!”. His indignant eye rolls and incredulity at the question show him to be a man of pride and despite being a valet, knows that even he is better than a no nothing delivery boy. As the scene goes on there’s a lovely bit of business as he stares at the delivery boy then makes out that the boy is looking at the radio, which he then protectively tucks under his arm. Moments like that can’t possibly be in the script but are the little details that Mantan adds to his performance which enable him to stand out in an otherwise run of the mill movie.

 

It really is the small details that make the difference all throughout the picture. For example, at one point he rushes to answer the phone then realises the receiver is upside down. It’s a quick moment filmed in a long shot so is not meant to ever be noticed but Mantan, ever the trouper, just adds it in to get a brief laugh. Similarly in a scene where he is talking to the police and realises there is a microphone in a nearby lamp, he tilts the lamp in their direction as they speak, but does it in a hilariously understated way that manages to be restrained yet outrageous. His method is to tilt the lamp in an exaggerated manner towards the talking cops while staring blank eyed and nonchalantly into middle distance. It makes a brief yet memorably odd visual and once again gets far more laughs that the script could possibly have managed as written.

 

Possibly the highlight of the movie is the chance to experience a great bit of comedy dream casting as Mantan Moreland shares a short scene with the one and only Shemp Howard. Shemp, at the time firmly established as a reliable comic heavy and sidekick plays a dim witted police officer. Sadly all the potential in his casting is largely wasted as he is reduced to little more than reaction shots as others talk over him. However, in a brief comic interlude the two titans of character comedy finally meet and their timing and chemistry is a treat. The scene takes place in a kitchen and Shemp, seeing a bottle of booze asks for some (the only discernible character trait he has in the movie is that he likes a drink) but Mantan wants some money for it. Eventually he offers to roll dice for it, but Mantan firmly states that he doesn’t gamble. Shemp then pulls out the dice and Mantan gives a little high pitched wince and says “Oooh, on second thought maybe I might”. Again, while not particularly funny on paper, the scene has great energy from the two, with the rapid fire delivery and timing pitch perfect. Moreland’s pacing here is reminiscent of his cadence in filmed versions of his famous ‘incomplete sentences’ routine with Ben Carter in vaudeville. What’s interesting about both the performers is that they alternate at being the straight man and take turns to attempting to one-up the other. It’s one of those moments when you get to marvel at the ability and versatility of two seasoned comedians who know their own characters so well, just going out there and trying to get some laughs out of virtually nothing.

The end of the movie is its highlight (and not because it is finally over), as Mantan is kidnapped by the evil Doctor Rx to lure Jerry into his lair. At this point the film just suddenly throws everything it has at the screen and the now hooded doctor chains our hero to a gurney while attempting to transfer his brain into that of a large caged gorilla he happens to have as a pet. The fact that none of this is even hinted at throughout the preceding 50 minutes just makes it all the more mystifying, but at least it all goes out with a bang. Throughout this part of the movie Mantan Moreland does a commendably good job of playing it straight. His tired, sweating face and monotone voice make him look like he has been on the receiving end of some sort of torture and elicits genuine sympathy. His solemn phone call to Jerry under duress is perfectly judged, with the fact that he eschews the usual laughs making it all the more potent. When he is then forced to watch Jerry face the crazed gorilla, his horrified yet feeble cry of "Don't do that to my boss" immediately sells the seriousness of the situation. It's another testament to his likability that despite any racial connotations to the scene (a white hooded villain torturing a black man) it's more disturbing to see the effects of real violence on such a gentle man.

 

What strikes me after watching The Strange Case of Doctor Rx is that, if it were not already obvious the movie industry missed the boat massively on utilising the talents of Mantan Moreland. While I’m sure that due to racial attitudes of the day, a great many African American actors (and those of other ethnicities) were denied their chance to shine, in the realms of comedy especially, Mantan’s absence hurts the most. In a colour blind world, Mantan Moreland could have easily become a featured solo comedian, or at the very least part of a double act (a series of films with Ben Carter would have had potential). At an absolute minimum he should have had a short subject series for Columbia or RKO but it seems the world wasn't ready for it and our cinematic lives are thus poorer for it.

 

Mantan Moreland may have had expert timing and comic reactions, and years of stage experience to help him but what sets him apart from others so much is that he’s just so darn likable. He had a real and believable everyman persona, standing outside of society (where all good comedians do, regardless of skin colour) yet with an evident sense of self worth and value. He could be cowardly yet loveably pompous, street smart yet gullible and beyond the one liners and comic business was a fully formed comic original. Despite playing secondary roles for a lifetime, Mantan Moreland had the ability to make us root for him, to overcome stereotypes and displace prejudice with laughter. That alone should have been enough to make him one of the great character comedians of his time, but it was not to be. Luckily, movies like The Strange Case of Doctor Rx gave him enough screen time to show what he could do. And what he could do was outshine most of the cast and steal the whole picture from under them. Though, when you steal every scene you are in because you are just better than those around you, it's not really scene stealing, it's just called talent. 

King of the Zombies (1941) - Mantan Moreland Saves the Day, and the Movie...

There are two movies running in parallel during King of the Zombies. One is a piece of straight up mystery in which heroic Dick Purcell and John Archer crash land on a strange island of the undead and do battle with a nefarious mad European doctor played by Henry Victor. The other movie involves Mantan Moreland having some goofy fun as he tries unsuccessfully to avoid becoming a zombie and to escape the aforementioned spooky island. On their own, each has its moments, but when the two films intersect – well, the movie is only big enough for one and the comic hi-jinks easily win out. It’s interesting that in a film where the black and the white characters are separated by class and by the stairs of a house, that despite (I’d imagine) the intentions of the writer the below stairs action proves to be by far the more exciting, funny and vital of the two. They are the flip sides to two very different films and two very different social outlooks and experiences.

Basically, if you take Mantan Moreland out if this picture you are left with a competent poverty row cash-in to the Universal horror cycle and nothing more. With him involved, King of the Zombies is not exactly a classic but nonetheless a fondly remembered and much revived movie (it also helps that it seems to be in the public domain). Monogram obviously saw the worth of Moreland as although he is billed third in the opening titles, interestingly his name is in a bigger typeface than his co-stars Dick Purcell and Joan Woodbury. In King of the Zombies, he steals every scene he’s in and acts everyone in the cast off the screen to such a ridiculous level that it’s not even funny. The man is and was a star performer of the highest order.

Despite his towering presence, it’s a shame that the viewers have to endure the same old tired “color” jokes. There’s about three in the opening 5 minutes, along the lines of (for example) “I thought I was a little off color to be a ghost”. I know it was 1941 but you’d hope that gag was lame even by then. Thankfully, as soon as Mantan gets to do his thing, the movie picks up greatly. When I reviewed Law of the Jungle a few months ago I made the point of defending Moreland’s big eyed scaredy-cat shtick, saying that in effect his comic reactions and double takes were no different to that of Lou Costello in a similar situation. However, it’s unfortunate that this type of character for a black actor has a particularly nasty cinematic baggage to go with it, but Moreland is such a talented comedian that I feel that he really does transcend such stereotyping. And anyway, what’s the alternative, should he be acting a little more “white”? No thank you. King of the Zombies is, if nothing else a movie that shows him to be an effective and hugely talented comic leading man. It’s pretty amazing to see a black actor effectively starring in a mainstream movie from this period, and I don’t believe for a moment that anyone who went to see the film did so due to the lure of Dick Purcell and the rest of the cast (except the zombies).

Anyway, the plots regarding a missing Admiral, a sinister doctor and some zombies are pure hokum and really only there for window dressing. What’s really fascinating is how the movie essentially starts by playing off the usual casual racism of the time and finds itself (intentionally?) being subverted from within by Moreland’s charisma and vitality. The crux of the first third of the movie is that Moreland is subservient to his two companions played by Purcell and Archer. It seems to be a relationship with a modicum of respect but not much else. Although Moreland’s role as servant to the other two is not explicitly defined, a key moment early on is when the mad doctor played by Henry Victor offers his guests a drink yet misses Moreland’s glass out when pouring. The crestfallen look on his face is a picture of disappointment that is made worse when he is told he can’t have a room to sleep in with the others as he should be in the servant’s quarters otherwise it would “set a bad example”. Heroic Dick Purcell is vaguely apologetic but basically tells him to put up with it. Of course, once he goes downstairs and discovers the zombies, Purcell and Archer accuse him of dreaming it or even worse, of being drunk. Some friends they are, now we know where they stand! This immediately sets up Moreland as the unlikely hero of the film rather than the comic sidekick. It’s almost as if the movie set out to be a horror but in rehearsals they saw how good he was and decided to play it for laughs and switch the focus of the plot.

No matter, luckily downstairs in the servant’s quarters is where all the fun happens! Mantan quickly hooks up with pretty kitchen maid Samantha, played by the delightful Marguerite Whitten who tells him of the strange voodoo rituals and of the “dead folk what run around”. Between the two of them, Moreland and Whitten really keep the picture afloat and in some alternate reality I‘m sure they went on to make dozens of movies together as they have a natural chemistry sadly lacking from the rest of the wooden cast. After wisecracking himself though the usual haunted house comic shenanigans, in which he even manages to get a laugh out of the line “the tropics sure give a man a color!” when looking in the mirror (no mean feat), Moreland eventually falls afoul of the denizens of the undead.

The highlight of the film then arrives as Mantan is hypnotized into thinking he is a zombie. The evil doctor tells him to repeat, “I am dead” and “I am a zombie” which gets the incredulous reply “I am a zombie…I am…I is??” When the hypnotism is complete and he has chanted, “I am a zombie” enough he stops, then looks at the zombies and deadpans “Move over boys, I’m one of the gang now!” Soon he’s convinced he’s a zombie and has taken over as their leader and is drilling them like an army (“Company halt! Gangway for king zom!”) He also finds that the zombies don’t eat much so ends up getting all the food to himself as Marguerite Whitten plays along suspiciously. In a funny exchange he says to her “Don’t you bother me woman, can’t you see I’m a has been?” When she tells him that zombies can’t talk he snaps back “Can I help it if I’m loquacious?” He’s then he’s told that if he puts salt on his food that he’ll dry up and die again so replies “This bein’ a zombie sure is a drawback!” before taking some salt and finally snapping out of the spell with a scream of “How do I look? How do I look?” He runs to a mirror and laughs with relief when he realizes he’s not a zombie, then with split second timing remembers to be scared again and runs for his life! Moreland’s turn as the hypnotized zombie and his interplay with Whitten are easily the best parts of the film and come across as so fresh, spontaneous and natural that the rest of the cast and the movie as a whole don’t really stand a chance in comparison.

That’s not to say that the rest of the (white) cast are uniformly bad. Henry Victor is suitable creepy as the mad doctor in a role purportedly intended for Bela Lugosi. He really makes the most out of lines like “She lives, yet walks in the land of those...beyond!" Sadly others like Dick Purcell and John Archer just stand around and say their lines. However, it’s the African American members of the cast that really shine. Aside from the aforementioned Marguerite Whitten, Leigh Whipper really impresses as the incredibly creepy and definitely psychopathic butler and there is a nice cameo for Laurence Criner as an educated doctor. And some of the extras definitely give the impression that they served as technical advisers for the witchcraft scenes! All this really proves to me is that there was an embarrassment of riches in terms of working black actors in Hollywood in the 40s and that I really need to investigate some Harlem cinema.

In the end Mantan was right about the zombies but his stupid friends are still stupid. They thought they had an adventure of their own and were probably blissfully unaware of the fun he and his friends had below the stairs. I understand fully that Mantan Moreland and other actors in his position were just doing their best to get work within the Hollywood system but when I see the way he so effortlessly commands the screen when given the opportunity it’s obvious that he was a man out of time. If he were around in these more enlightened times, he would be a massive star, no doubt about it. Someone with the gifts for comic timing, reaction and delivery just wouldn’t have gone to waste. However, I look forward to the next movie I can find where Mantan Moreland gets sufficient screen time (any suggestions out there?) because I can’t think of a more dynamic talent in 40’s screen comedy.

As for King of the Zombies, it’s a superior Monogram picture despite not exactly being a comedy or horror classic, but it is strangely subversive. When it comes down to it, by the end of the movie the status quo is completely reversed and the fool becomes the hero. The aloof European doctor which the lead characters are initially so in thrall of is shown to be a (thinly disguised) Nazi who is toppled not by the square jawed heroics of Dick Purcell but by the permanently scared bumbling of his ‘servant’ Mantan Moreland. Most importantly the conventions of the horror movie are turned on the their head by Moreland, who makes the viewer realize just how contrived and ridiculous the whole set up is by his barrage of Woody Allen-esque one-liners. At the end he emerges once again as the only real person in the cast and the only character in which we can find an emotional connection. He may be scared of everything he sees but he’s the most human character in the movie, and that’s including zombie and non-zombie alike. He sums up the situation perfectly with the last line of the movie, “If there’s one thing I wouldn’t want to be twice, zombies is both of them!”

Law of the Jungle (1942) - Monogram and the Importance of Mantan Moreland

Watching Law of the Jungle marked two important firsts for me. It was my first Monogram Picture and it was my first exposure to Mantan Moreland (looking back, I doubt this actually the case as I remember regularly watching Charlie Chan films as a kid, but it's certainly my first exposure as an adult). It's odd that it's taken this long to visit the Monogram corner of poverty row as I grew up being as familiar with the Republic logo as those of the major studios. Now, being new to this I have little idea of which films are the best or worst examples of Monogram's output but in this showing they managed to create a fast moving and thoroughly enjoyable adventure comedy. And since their goal wasn't to make Oscar worthy dramas (I believe they would try that later though) but cheap and cheerful double bill fodder for the masses, I think Law of the Jungle works very well.

The plot is the typical matinee mix of thrills, involving a singer stranded in Africa meeting an archaeologist and getting involved with a Nazi plot to create unrest within the local tribes. Add to that a comic sidekick, an unconvincing gorilla, some unexpected characterisation and lots of silly slapstick and you have a winning formula, with the emphasis on formula. Of course, none of this really matters, it's just an excuse for some action, a couple of songs, some knockabout fun and a guy in a flea bitten gorilla suit. Who could resist?

As would be expected from a studio bound jungle picture, the direction by Jean Yarbrough (later to become the producer of Abbott and Costello's TV show) is serviceable and the cast are generally solid. Arline Judge (here ten years removed from her turn in Girl Crazy) brings enough life to her part to keep it interesting though John 'Dusty' King (known mostly for his appearances in westerns) as our leading man is painfully wooden. Some of the supporting cast are quite interesting, with Arthur O'Connell giving an odd, twitchy performance as Judge's shady nightclub boss. He slithers and slopes about in his early scenes like he's trying to bring some hidden depth to an otherwise one dimensional character and as as a result becomes one of the better remembered elements of the film. He would go on to find later success as a character actor in film and television, eventually receiving two Oscar nominations. At this point in his career you can tell he's possibly a tad more 'method' than his co-stars. Also of note is Laurence Criner as the tribal Chief who almost steals the show with his appearance in the last reel of the film, but we'll get to that later.

Of course, if it wasn't for the man billed third, Mantan Moreland, I doubt I'd be writing this review and nor would anyone be interesting in watching this film. Regardless of the thorny issue of race, he simply makes the film worth watching. If his representation of an African American is considered mildly offensive to some then so be it, but the fact of the matter is that we care a whole lot more about him that we do the stiff supposed stars of the picture. He stands out as the only real person we can connect with and share in the adventure with and he brings an element of spontaneity to every scene he is in.

Mantan Moreland specialised in the comedy sidekick, usually playing butlers, manservants, chauffeurs and the other assorted menial jobs that were the only way for black actors in the 30's and 40's to get screen time. He played up the bug eyed, superstitious manservant, constantly afraid for his life. However, to this stock character he added his own impeccable timing and charisma to create a lovable everyman that stole every scene he was in and who always got the upper hand with a zinging one liner. Of course, this sort of act quickly fell out of favour when the growing civil rights movement gained momentum in the 1950's and it's only really now that Moreland and his contemporaries are beginning to be reassessed.

The issue of race is always a difficult subject when watching Hollywood films of the Golden Age as generally, the only representation black actors get is in the stereotypical manservant or housemaid role. Of the films I've watched in the last few years I can only recall a few instances where attempts were made to reverse this trend and portray black characters as real people. Frank Capra's Broadway Bill (1934) has a black stable hand character played by Clarence Muse who at times is almost treated as an equal of star Warner Baxter (and also is shown the true pecking order by him at other times). Despite suffering occasional racial slurs, Muse almost steals the picture, investing dignity and humanity into a character that I'd imagine the script didn't give much to. Another good example is Third Finger, Left Hand (1940) directed by Robert Z. Leonard. In this, Ernest Whitman plays Sam (he's even given a name), a porter on the train the leads (Myrna Loy and Melvyn Douglas) are travelling on who is roped into pretending to be a lawyer for them. Sam, at first speaking in the sort of grammatically incorrect "yassuh!" voice that all black people have to use in these films, drops the accent and reveals that he's been taking correspondence courses in Law and is actually very knowledgeable on the subject. We then see him with spectacles on and law book in hand quoting all sorts of complicated by-laws as he does his job and becomes the catalyst that brings Loy and Douglas together. All this happens in the last ten minutes of the film and is a really pleasant surprise. He even get the last line of the film, as if to highlight his sudden guardian angel role.

Sadly, these examples are the exceptions when it comes to black actors on the screen, though I don't doubt that there are a few more examples out there. Into this social mix with its hard glass ceiling step actors like Mantan Moreland. The frequent criticism of him being a sell out to black people just doesn't stand because without actors like him there would be no black people at all in these films. Where he, and others like Eddie "Rochester" Anderson triumph, is in making the most of the situation and by attempting to overcome their second class status by sheer talent and charisma. Anderson, of course for the most part had the protection of Jack Benny and his writers always giving him the best lines and never putting him in any demeaning situations. Moreland didn't have this protection so using his vaudeville training he just went ahead and stole the show from everyone he starred with.

Given this argument, brief mention needs to be made of the other prominent black actor of the time, Stepin Fetchit, whose particular version of the stereotype character involved making him lazy, slackjawed and backward, every racist film goer's expectation of the average black man. Though he was very successful at his peak, his particular brand if comedy plays quite uncomfortably nowadays and it's frankly difficult to defend other that to say that at least he was making money to feed his family. I'd contend that the likes of Moreland and Anderson have little connection to him in terms of their film legacies. For a start, as stated before Moreland comes out of Law of the Jungle as the most human and most real of all the characters and almost single-handedly saves the film (and I'd imagine many other films) from the doldrums. This is something Monogram clearly understood due to the number of times they used him and the prominent billing they gave him in all his appearances, something possibly no other black actor in Hollywood was regularly getting.

However, Law of the Jungle is by no means a fully integrated non-racial film. Typically of poverty row productions its humour is aimed low and its characters painted in broad strokes. Most interestingly it shows some sort of racial hierarchy as Mantan Moreland constantly swindles the gullible natives and gets them to work for him, thus reversing the position he has with his own master, archaeologist King. The main tribesman is also called Bongo, which tells you everything you need about the depth and subtlety of the characterisation.

The best moment in the film comes at the end, where our three leads (King, Judge and Moreland) have been captured and awaiting some terrible fate at the hands of savage tribesmen. King supposes that they are cannibals to which Mantan makes a crack about how that's bad because everyone loves to eat "dark meat"(it's a low brow line but his delivery was hilarious). The leader of the tribe has a fat, ugly daughter who takes a shine to Mantan for some absurd comic business before they are led off to meet the Chief. In a brilliant twist, the Chief, played by Laurence Criner is college educated and speaks in clipped Ronald Colman -like tones while puffing stoically on his pipe. It further turns out that he belongs to the same Lodge as Mantan in Harlem. This juxtaposition of the educated savage is also used to good effect in, of all places, Old Mother Riley's Jungle Treasure (1951) where all the supposed cannibal tribesman are in actual fact ex-Oxford graduates who spend their time (in full tribal dress) listening to the cricket on the short wave radio. In the end Criner and Moreland catch the Nazis, save the day and between them save the film.

It's a real shame that actors like Mantan Moreland are still criticised for giving a negative portrayal of black people on the screen. All these films have to be seen in their context and with the consensus racial views in place. I feel that often people make too much of it, as Moreland was merely using his comic gifts the only way he knew how. His round, big eyed face lent itself to over the top expressions and his short, portly stature and street wise accent suggest a non violent coward who lives on his quick wits. In the scenes where Moreland freaks out in a dark cave before discovering a giant ape, I couldn't help thinking that his expressions, reactions and mugging could have been replicated, double takes and all by Lou Costello and no one would have batted an eyelid. Okay, so he's playing a manservant character, but he always comes out smiling and gets the best lines. If you asked anyone who saw Law of the Jungle, either at the time or now, who their favourite character was I guarantee that everyone would side with Mantan Moreland, he just has a special charm about him. People of all races and creeds have obstacles stopping them from achieving their potential, and Hollywood was perhaps the hardest place for anyone (black or white) to get noticed, but some way or another talent always finds a way to be seen. Moreland can't be criticised for his performances, rather the criticism needs to be leveled at a system who only made certain types of roles available for him to play. He's simply overachieving in the situation he was given and was and remains a very talented and funny man. Monogram Pictures deserve some credit for realising this and for giving him the opportunity to become one of their most bankable and entertaining stars.