7/10
The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it.
24 July 2016
Alongside Sherlock Holmes and James Bond, Robert Louis Stevenson's novella The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is a work that has spawned many screen adaptations, yet predates both, the first of which dating as far back as 1908. Widely considered one of, if not the best of the bunch, John S. Robertson's seminal 1920 proto-horror classic is mostly remembered for one thing above all others. Played by an endlessly captivating John Barrymore, the characters of Jekyll and more importantly Hyde, are brought into—or returned to—existence with contrasting shades of elegance and pure ham-fisted grotesque in a performance that many point to as Barrymore's first 80 minutes of brilliance. Relying on little to no makeup for some of Hyde's appearances, the actor merely uses his face as a means of creeping the hell out of you as he stares enigmatically through the lens with eyes watering with madness and depravity. Simply put, it's the stuff of nightmares and silent-horror gold.

Outside of these murky, lusty, greasy scenes featuring Barrymore's crazed shuffle and psychotic debaucheries however, there's only a few other aspects of the film which draw quite the same amusement and/or repulsion. Overbaugh's photography does well in capturing said scenes, often sticking on Barrymore's close-ups for long periods of time, his face serving somewhat hauntingly as our only source of light in a sea of overwhelming shadow. There's also a great specials effects sequence involving a gargantuan spider crawling up the far-end of Jekyll's bed which, even now some 95 years later, is very strikingly uncomfortable to watch. Furthermore, set designs shake up the nihilistic, slimy pre- code undertones of the feature well enough, always maintaining a sense of darkness and gloom that pervades Jekyll's world, though perhaps not quite as convincing as Griffith's depiction of Victorian London in Broken Blossoms.

Overall though, there's a sense that without Barrymore, there wouldn't be much left to pick at here. Perhaps it's a natural result of being all-too-familiar with the source material that the plot seems shallow and a bit lacklustre. But regardless of the reasoning, Robertson's version here is competent at best when John "the profile" Barrymore is either not present, or not being allowed to ham it up. It's more than worthy of a watch though, if only to enjoy the performance of its lead star. If you do, be sure to catch the newly restored blu-ray version released in 2004 which features a great Rodney Sauer score performed by the Mont Alto Motion Picture Orchestra that mirrors the feature's action superbly.
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