The Man of a Thousand Faces in 1920, before his prime, under the direction of Wallace Worsley who would make him the Hunchback. But instead of being the sympathetic and heart-warming freak, here he is a demoniacal madman out for revenge.
"The Penalty" follows Blizzard, an underworld mastermind who had his legs unnecessarily amputated as a child (kinda like Reagan in "Kings Row"). And aside from general evil, crime, and mayhem, his main goal is to claim revenge on the doctor who did it. After we see the grisly mangling, we move to modern-day (1920) San Francisco where Frisco Pete, a drugged-out hoodlum, murders showgirl Barbary Nell and then flees to sanctuary at Blizzard's hide-out. The police send Rose, their undercover girl, to disguise herself as one of Blizzard's many molls, and become practically a concubine who presses the pedals as Blizzard plays the piano. Meanwhile, he works to seduce the sculptress daughter of the doctor who deformed him, posing as Satan for a sculpture. And all the while he's planning for the greatest crime spree of them all, when he'll bring thousands of disgruntled foreign laborers in to conquer the city...
God, "The Penalty" is creepy. It might not be the best-made movie of all time; the actors might not all stand out; the ending may be a cop-out. But it's got a lot of good points going for it. First, the title. "The Penalty" is about penalties of all kinds: Dr. Ferris must pay a penalty for his youthful indiscretions; Blizzard must pay a penalty for his life of crime. San Francisco must pay for creating monsters like Blizzard and Frisco Pete. The film is submerged in an idea of guilt, revenge, and comeuppance. Lon Chaney, as always, is an asset, in building a disturbing atmosphere of fear and loathing, as well as messing with the viewer's psyche through his performance. On turns you pity and hate him. Sure, he's evil. But his evil is so hypnotically attractive. And he's not entirely to blame for it. He's got no legs- can he still be fully responsible for his actions? Whatever Blizzard does, he revels in it. Climbing up the wall, with those stumps- can you take it? Like other quasi-horror films of the '20s and '30s, "The Penalty" is rife with hellish, gargoylian imagery. Beyond the buckets on Chaney's stumps and his legless swagger, there's the satanic sculpture and the apocalyptic fantasies (in which we see SF reduced to anarchic rubble) and the secret room full of chorus girls making hats, and the dirty underground corridors hidden behind Blizzard's fireplace, and the fully equipped operating room (in which he sets his bizarre revenge, which is worthy of Tod Browning). Then, looking at "The Penalty" from our postmodern perch, we can also enjoy the tinting (which changes from scene to scene) which gives it an almost psychedelic flavor, especially when combined with the soundtrack, which is a mixed bag. It's got some organ, some indistinguishable wailing, a couple possible leitmotifs, and what could be music from the darker levels of Super Mario Bros. It all comes together to give us, basically, "The Phantom of the Opera" meets "Citizen Kane" in hell, dimmed a few notches.
What can I say? If you like Lon Chaney, you're bound to love his role here. The finale may be a let-down, but those are the breaks. Watch with plenty of suspended disbelief and immerse yourself in the abstractly gritty, mildly Gothic San Francisco gangland of the 1920s.
"The Penalty" follows Blizzard, an underworld mastermind who had his legs unnecessarily amputated as a child (kinda like Reagan in "Kings Row"). And aside from general evil, crime, and mayhem, his main goal is to claim revenge on the doctor who did it. After we see the grisly mangling, we move to modern-day (1920) San Francisco where Frisco Pete, a drugged-out hoodlum, murders showgirl Barbary Nell and then flees to sanctuary at Blizzard's hide-out. The police send Rose, their undercover girl, to disguise herself as one of Blizzard's many molls, and become practically a concubine who presses the pedals as Blizzard plays the piano. Meanwhile, he works to seduce the sculptress daughter of the doctor who deformed him, posing as Satan for a sculpture. And all the while he's planning for the greatest crime spree of them all, when he'll bring thousands of disgruntled foreign laborers in to conquer the city...
God, "The Penalty" is creepy. It might not be the best-made movie of all time; the actors might not all stand out; the ending may be a cop-out. But it's got a lot of good points going for it. First, the title. "The Penalty" is about penalties of all kinds: Dr. Ferris must pay a penalty for his youthful indiscretions; Blizzard must pay a penalty for his life of crime. San Francisco must pay for creating monsters like Blizzard and Frisco Pete. The film is submerged in an idea of guilt, revenge, and comeuppance. Lon Chaney, as always, is an asset, in building a disturbing atmosphere of fear and loathing, as well as messing with the viewer's psyche through his performance. On turns you pity and hate him. Sure, he's evil. But his evil is so hypnotically attractive. And he's not entirely to blame for it. He's got no legs- can he still be fully responsible for his actions? Whatever Blizzard does, he revels in it. Climbing up the wall, with those stumps- can you take it? Like other quasi-horror films of the '20s and '30s, "The Penalty" is rife with hellish, gargoylian imagery. Beyond the buckets on Chaney's stumps and his legless swagger, there's the satanic sculpture and the apocalyptic fantasies (in which we see SF reduced to anarchic rubble) and the secret room full of chorus girls making hats, and the dirty underground corridors hidden behind Blizzard's fireplace, and the fully equipped operating room (in which he sets his bizarre revenge, which is worthy of Tod Browning). Then, looking at "The Penalty" from our postmodern perch, we can also enjoy the tinting (which changes from scene to scene) which gives it an almost psychedelic flavor, especially when combined with the soundtrack, which is a mixed bag. It's got some organ, some indistinguishable wailing, a couple possible leitmotifs, and what could be music from the darker levels of Super Mario Bros. It all comes together to give us, basically, "The Phantom of the Opera" meets "Citizen Kane" in hell, dimmed a few notches.
What can I say? If you like Lon Chaney, you're bound to love his role here. The finale may be a let-down, but those are the breaks. Watch with plenty of suspended disbelief and immerse yourself in the abstractly gritty, mildly Gothic San Francisco gangland of the 1920s.