MonsterGirl’s 150 Days of Classic Horror #94 THE LODGER: A STORY OF THE LONDON FOG 1927/ THE LODGER 1944 & HANGOVER SQUARE 1945

Echoes in the Fog: The Lodger Legend and Its Shadows from Hitchcock to Hangover Square

THE LODGER: A STORY OF THE LONDON FOG 1927

Alfred Hitchcock’s The Lodger: A Story of the London Fog (1927) stands as a watershed moment in both his career and the evolution of the suspense thriller. Though it was his third feature, Hitchcock himself would later call it his “first true film,” and it’s easy to see why: here, the director’s signature obsessions—wrongly accused men, dangerous allure, and the shadow of violence—emerge fully formed, set against a fog-choked London that feels both timeless and distinctly modern.

Drawing from Marie Belloc Lowndes’s 1913 novel and its stage adaptation, the film takes its inspiration from the Jack the Ripper murders, but is less interested in true crime in reality it is more about the feverish paranoia that settles over a city when evil seems to be lurking just out of sight, prowling the streets.

The story itself is deceptively simple: a serial killer known as “The Avenger” is targeting blonde women, sending London into a state of panic. Right in the middle of all this, the mysterious lodger—played by Ivor Novello—shows up and rents a room from the Buntings just as the murders edge closer to home.

Novello is both magnetic and ambiguous; his haunted eyes and secretive ways make him suspicious and yet strangely fascinating, especially to the Buntings’ daughter Daisy (June Tripp).

As Daisy’s policeman boyfriend Joe (Malcolm Keen) gets more jealous and the Buntings’ suspicions grow, the film really tightens the noose of doubt around their lodger, leading to a dramatic sequence of accusation, pursuit, and mob justice before the truth finally comes to light.

Hitchcock’s direction, deeply influenced by the German Expressionist cinema he encountered in Berlin, is on full display. Working with cinematographer Gaetano di Ventimiglia, he floods the film with mist, shadow, and oblique camera angles, creating a visual world where fear and uncertainty seep into every frame.

The film’s look is both expressionist and modern: glass floors allow us to see the lodger’s anxious pacing from below, staircases become vertiginous chasms, and the fog itself seems to swallow up the city. The rhythm of the editing—dynamic, almost musical—heightens the sense of unease, while the absence of spoken dialogue only sharpens Hitchcock’s focus on pure visual storytelling.

The cast brings a strange, almost theatrical intensity to the film. Marie Ault and Arthur Chesney are quietly compelling as the Buntings, their growing fear for Daisy palpable in every gesture. June Tripp’s Daisy is luminous and vulnerable, while Malcolm Keen’s Joe simmers with suspicion. But it’s Novello who dominates, his performance walking a tightrope between innocence and menace. Hitchcock’s own cameo—his first—comes early, a sly touch that would become a trademark. Historically, The Lodger arrived at a moment when British cinema was searching for its own voice, and Hitchcock’s film was immediately recognized as a leap forward. Critics hailed its technical innovation and atmospheric power, and it quickly established Hitchcock as a director of rare vision.

The film’s themes—media-fueled hysteria, the dangers of mob justice, the ambiguity of guilt—feel as relevant today as they did nearly a century ago. What lingers most, though, is the film’s atmosphere: a city shrouded in fog, where every footstep echoes with dread, and where the line between hunter and hunted is never quite clear. The Lodger is not just a story of murder, but of suspicion, desire, and the perilous search for truth in the haunting, murky shadows.

THE LODGER 1944

John Brahm’s 1944 adaptation of The Lodger stands out as one of the most atmospheric and psychologically charged takes on the Jack the Ripper legend, setting the tone for the era’s horror cinema. Drawing once again from Lowndes’s 1913 novel, the film drops us right into a foggy, gaslit London where fear and suspicion seem to hang heavy in the air.

At the center are the Bontings, a respectable couple who are struggling to make ends meet. So they decide to rent a room to the enigmatic Mr. Slade—played by Laird Cregar—a brooding man whose unsettling habits and haunted look, which bears the mark of something dark and dangerous, quickly disturb the household.

Slade, played with mesmerizing intensity by Laird Cregar, is a figure both pitiable and terrifying, his every movement weighted with obsession and barely contained madness.

As the city reels from a series of brutal murders targeting actresses, Slade becomes fixated on the Bontings’ niece Kitty Langley (Merle Oberon), a luminous music-hall performer.

Laird Cregar was a remarkably gifted American actor whose brief career left a lasting impression on classic Hollywood cinema. Known for his commanding presence and expressive performances, Cregar excelled in roles that demanded both menace and vulnerability, bringing a unique depth to villains and tortured souls alike. He rose to prominence with standout performances in films such as I Wake Up Screaming (1941), This Gun for Hire (1942), and,  notably, this role as the haunted Mr. Slade in The Lodger, followed by his performance as the tragic composer George Harvey Bone in Hangover Square (1945).

Cregar’s acting was marked by a rare ability to convey complex inner turmoil—his characters often seemed caught between longing and darkness, their emotional conflict visible in every gesture and expression.

Offscreen, Laird Cregar’s life was just as complicated. He was ambitious but also very aware of how his imposing size shaped the roles he was offered, struggling with Hollywood’s expectations of their leading men. This drove him to try a risky crash diet in hopes of landing more romantic parts. Sadly, this decision contributed to his early death at only 31. Privately, his sexuality was something only close friends and colleagues knew about, and his relationships—including a notable romance with actor David Bacon—were often the subject of both gossip and tragedy.

Despite his short life, Laird Cregar’s career was filled with highlights: he was celebrated for his villainous roles, brought unexpected sympathy to his darkest characters, and was praised by contemporaries for his stage work as well as his films. His performances in The Lodger and Hangover Square remain iconic, showcasing a talent that could evoke both fear and pity, and leaving a legacy as one of Hollywood’s most memorable and enigmatic actors.

As Mr. Slade, Cregar’s performance dominates the film, imbuing Slade with a tragic depth. His physical presence—imposing yet oddly vulnerable—makes him an unforgettable figure, whose yes are constantly shifting, moving between longing and menace, as if he’s always caught between wanting and warning at the same time.

The supporting cast brings their own vivid energy: Merle Oberon’s Kitty is both glamorous and sympathetic, while George Sanders, as the suave Inspector Warwick, brings a dry wit and dogged determination to the hunt for the killer. Wonderful character actors, Cedric Hardwicke and Sara Allgood, as the Bontings, ground the film with their blend of domestic warmth and deepening apprehension, their household slowly unraveling under the weight of suspicion.

What really stands out to me about The Lodger is how visually it leans into a moody, noir-inflected style. Lucien Ballard’s cinematography bathes everything in deep shadows and swirling fog, clearly inspired by German Expressionism. The result is a world that feels at once claustrophobic and strangely dreamlike.

Every frame seems alive with narrow alleyways, rain-slicked streets, and dark, shadowy interiors, conjuring a London that feels like it’s on the verge of hysteria.

The camera lingers on faces, hands, and fleeting, telling glances that say more than words, adding to the tension and uncertainty that drive the story forward.

And Hugo Friedhofer’s score? It quietly threads the film with a subtle but undeniable force that adds to the sense of doom, giving The Lodger its lingering, haunted melancholy that hangs over every scene.

Brahm tightly holds the reins—there’s this careful balance between those quiet, psychologically uneasy moments and sudden bursts of violence and panic. Compared to Hitchcock’s silent version, which focused more on suspicion and the threat of mob justice, this film seems to delve deeper into the psychology of its characters, especially Salde, whose twisted motivations are revealed in chilling detail. The story deviates from the novel and its earlier adaptations, but it manages to add a sense of unpredictability and dread. The Lodger isn’t so much a whodunit as it is about consuming shadows of fear and obsession.

The Lodger was released at a time when Hollywood was dealing with all the anxieties that come with war and the lingering shadows of the past. Brahm, a German émigré, brought a distinctly European sensibility to the film, blending that polished Hollywood studio gloss with the moody, intense vibe of 1930s Expressionism. The end result is a film that somehow feels both timeless and completely of its moment—a suspenseful, unsettling meditation on evil, desire, and the darkness that can hide behind even the most respectable facades.

In the end, The Lodger is less a straightforward thriller than a feverish portrait of a city—and a mind—unraveling. With its unforgettable performances, haunting visuals, and lingering sense of unease, it remains a high point of 1940s horror.

There is a memorable line in the 1944 film The Lodger that touches on the paradox of love and hate. Laird Cregar’s character, Mr. Slade, utters:

“To hate a thing and love it too, and to love it so much that you hate it.”

This line is delivered during one of Slade’s intense, confessional moments, revealing the tortured duality at the heart of his character. Slade is speaking to Kitty, who has become both his obsession and his undoing. The quote sums up the film’s central tension—Slade’s simultaneous attraction to and resentment of women, especially those who remind him of his tragic past. It’s a moment that not only deepens our understanding of Slade’s psychological torment but also highlights the film’s exploration of the thin, often blurred line between love and hate.

This duality drives the suspense and emotional complexity of The Lodger, leaving us unsettled by the realization that the two emotions can coexist so fiercely within a single soul and Cregar is masterful at bringing to life the aching duality of a soul at war with itself, embodying both longing and menace with a grace that makes his torment feel hauntingly real. His performance shimmers with the tension of a man forever caught between shadow and light, desire and dread, each emotion reflected in his face like a secret he can never quite escape.

HANGOVER SQUARE 1945

Cregar reignites his role as a tormented soul. Once again, John Brahm returns with Hangover Square (1945), a feverish, noir-soaked descent into madness, obsession, and the perilous intersection of art and violence. Set in Edwardian London, the film follows George Harvey Bone, a gifted composer played with haunting vulnerability and intensity by Laird Cregar. Bone’s life is a study in contrasts: outwardly gentle and unassuming, inwardly tormented by blackouts triggered by discordant sounds—episodes that leave him with no memory and, as we soon learns, a trail of violence in his wake.

The film opens with a jolt: Bone, in a fugue state, murders a shop owner and sets the scene ablaze, then stumbles home, bloodied and bewildered, unable to recall his actions. This pattern of lost time and chilling gloom becomes the film’s pulse as Bone seeks help from Dr. Allan Middleton (George Sanders), a renowned police surgeon and psychological consultant at Scotland Yard.

After committing the murder during one of his amnesiac episodes, George seeks help for his troubling blackouts. He confides in Barbara Chapman, played by Faye Marlowe, who is the supportive and caring daughter of Sir Henry Chapman, a well-known conductor and George Harvey Bone’s mentor, who takes him to see Dr. Middleton.

At the heart of Bone’s unraveling is his infatuation with Netta Longdon, a cunning and ambitious music hall singer brought to life by Linda Darnell. Netta’s beauty and charm mask a ruthless opportunism; she manipulates Bone’s affections, using his talent to advance her own career while stringing him along with false promises.

Cregar’s Bone is desperate, yearning, and increasingly unstable, while Darnell’s Netta is dazzling and cold, her self-interest sharpening every exchange. Faye Marlowe’s Barbara Chapman, the compassionate daughter of Bone’s mentor, offers a gentler counterpoint, her concern for Bone underscoring the tragedy of a man pulled between light and darkness.

Visually, Hangover Square is a vivid illustration of a noir/thriller atmosphere. Cinematographer Joseph LaShelle (Fallen Angel 1945, Road House 1948, Where the Sidewalk Ends 1950, Marty 1955, The Apartment 1960, How the West Was Won 1962) bathes the film in inky shadows and soft, gaslit haze, creating a world that feels both lush and claustrophobic. Brahm’s direction is dynamic and inventive—overhead shots, Dutch angles, and low perspectives lend a sense of instability and tension, mirroring Bone’s fractured psyche. The film’s most striking set pieces—particularly the Guy Fawkes bonfire scene, with masked revelers encircling a towering blaze—are both grandly theatrical and chillingly intimate, the camera swooping and gliding as Bone’s fate closes in around him.

Bernard Herrmann’s score is also integral to the film’s impact, his original piano concerto serving as both a narrative centerpiece and a psychological battleground. The music swells and recedes with Bone’s moods, the climactic concert sequence a brilliant flourish of sound and image: as flames consume the concert hall, Bone plays on, lost in his own creation, the boundaries between art, madness, and destruction dissolving in the inferno.

Hangover Square is rooted in the mood of its time. It starts with Patrick Hamilton’s 1941 novel, but is transformed into a kind of Gothic melodrama that’s full of the era’s anxieties. The Edwardian setting comes alive with all the rich period details—those sumptuous costumes, busy pubs, and clouds of smoke swirling through every scene. But what really sets the film apart is its noir edge, that constant sense of dread and inevitability running underneath it all that defines its style. Cregar’s performance, tragically his last truly, becomes the beating heart of the film. He embodies the duality of a man gifted and doomed. His torment is visible in every gesture, every look, and every move he makes.

In the end, Hangover Square is a story of a soul at war with itself, of love curdled into obsession, and of genius consumed by its own fire.

#94 Down, 56 to go! Your EverLovin Joey formally & affectionately known as MosnterGirl!

 

MonsterGirl’s Halloween – 2015 special feature! the Heroines, Scream Queens & Sirens of 30s Horror Cinema!

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Horror cinema was at it’s spooky peak in the 1930s~ the era gave birth to some of the most iconic figures of the genre as well as highlighted some of the most beautiful & beloved heroines to ever light up the scream, oops I mean screen!!!!

We all love the corrupted, diabolical, fiendish and menacing men of the 30s who dominated the horror screen- the spectres of evil, the anti-heroes who put those heroines in harms way, women in peril, –Boris, & Bela, Chaney and March… From Frankenstein, to Dracula, from The Black Cat (1934), or wicked Wax Museums to that fella who kept changing his mind…Jekyll or was it Hyde? From the Mummy to that guy you could see right through, thank you Mr. Rains!

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Gloria Stuart The Invisible Man

Last year I featured Scream Queens of 40s Classic Horror! This Halloween – – I felt like paying homage to the lovely ladies of 30s Classic Horror, who squealed up a storm on those stormy dreadful nights, shadowed by sinister figures, besieged by beasts, and taunted with terror in those fabulous frisson-filled fright flicks… but lest not forget that after the screaming stops, those gals show some grand gumption! And… In an era when censorship & conservative framework tried to set the stage for these dark tales, quite often what smoldered underneath the finely veiled surface was a boiling pot of sensuality and provocative suggestion that I find more appealing than most contemporary forays into Modern horror- the lost art of the classical horror genre will always remain Queen… !

Let’s drink a toast to that notion!

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The Scream Queens, Sirens & Heroines of 1930s Classic Horror are here for you to run your eyes over! Let’s give ’em a really big hand, just not a hairy one okay? From A-Z

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Phantom in the Rue Morgue 1954.

ELIZABETH ALLAN

Elizabeth Allan

A British beauty with red hair who according to Gregory Mank in his Women in Horror Films, the 1930s, left England for Hollywood and an MGM contract. She is the consummate gutsy heroine, the anti-damsel Irena Borotyn In Tod Browning’s campy Mark of the Vampire (1935) co-starring with Bela Lugosi as Count Mora (His birthday is coming up on October 20th!) Lionel Atwill and the always cheeky Lionel Barrymore… Later in 1958, she would co-star with Boris Karloff in the ever-atmospheric The Haunted Strangler.

Mark of the Vampire is a moody graveyard chiller scripted by Bernard Schubert & Guy Endore (The Raven, Mad Love (1935) & The Devil Doll (1936) and the terrific noir thriller Tomorrow is Another Day (1951) with sexy Steve Cochran & one of my favs Ruth Roman!)

The film is Tod Browning’s retake of his silent Lon Chaney Sr. classic London After Midnight (1927).

The story goes like this: Sir Karell Borotin (Holmes Herbert) is murdered, left drained of his blood, and Professor Zelin (Lionel Barrymore) believes it’s the work of vampires. Lionel Atwill once again plays well as the inquiring but skeptical police Inspector Neumann.

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Irena (Elizabeth Allan) and Professor Zelen (Lionel Barrymore) hatch an intricate plot to trap the murderers!

Once Sir Karell’s daughter Irena ( our heroine Elizabeth Allan) is assailed, left with strange bite marks on her neck, the case becomes active again. Neumann consults Professor Zelin the leading expert on Vampires. This horror whodunit includes frightened locals who believe that Count Mora (Bela in iconic cape and saturnine mannerism) and his creepy daughter Luna  (Carroll Borland) who trails after him through crypt and foggy woods, are behind the strange going’s on. But is all that it seems?

Mark of the Vampire (1935)

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Elizabeth Allan (below center) and Carroll Borland as Luna in Tod Browning’s Mark of the Vampire (1935).
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Elizabeth Allan and Carroll Borland in Mark of the Vampire (1935).

The Phantom Fiend (1932)

Directed by the ever-interesting director Maurice Elvey (Mr. Wu 1919, The Sign of Four, 1923, The Clairvoyant 1935, The Man in the Mirror 1936, The Obsessed 1952) Elizabeth Allan stars as Daisy Bunting the beautiful but mesmerized by the strange yet sensual and seemingly tragic brooding figure- boarder Ivor Novello as Michel Angeloff in The Phantom Fiend! A remake of Alfred Hitchcock’s first film about Jack the Ripper… The Lodger (1927) starring Novello once again.

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Ivor Novello is the strange & disturbing Michel Angeloff. Elizabeth Allan is the daughter of the landlords who rent a room to this mysterious fellow who might just be a serial killer. Daisy Bunyon falls captivated by this tormented and intense young man…
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A.W. Baskcomb plays Daisy’s (Elizabeth Allan)father George Bunting and Jack Hawkins is Joe Martin the regular guy in love with Daisy.
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Michel Angeloff (Ivor Novello) to Daisy Bunting (Elizabeth Allan) “Stay away from me… don’t ever be alone with me…{…} -You trust me, no matter whatever I’ve done?”

The Mystery of Mr. X (1934)

There is a murderer loose in London who writes the police before he strikes with a sword cane, he signs his name X. It happens that his latest crime occurs on the same night that the Drayton Diamond is stolen. Robert Montgomery as charming as ever, is Nick Revel the jewel thief responsible for the diamond heist, but he’s not a crazed murderer. The co-incidence of the two crimes has put him in a fix as he’s now unable to unload the gem until the police solve the murders.

Elizabeth Allan is the lovely Jane Frensham, Sir Christopher Marche’s (Ralph Forbes) fiancé and Police Commissioner Sir Herbert Frensham’s daughter. Sir Christopher is arrested for the X murders, and Nick and Jane band together, fall madly in love, and try to figure out a way to help the police find the real killer!

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HEATHER ANGEL

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Heather Angel is a British actress who started out on stage at the Old Vic theatre but left for Hollywood and became known for the Bulldog Drummond series. While not appearing in lead roles, she did land parts in successful films such as Kitty Foyle, Pride and Prejudice (1940), Cry ‘Havoc’ (1943), and Lifeboat (1944). IMDb notes -Angel tested for the part of Melanie in Gone with the Wind (1939), the role was given to Olivia de Havilland.

Heather Angel possessed a sublime beauty and truly deserved to be a leading lady rather than relegated to supporting roles and guilty but pleasurable B movie status.

The L.A Times noted about her death in 1986 at age 77 “Fox and Universal ignored her classic training and used her in such low-budget features as “Charlie Chans Greatest Case and “Springtime for Henry.”

Her performances in Berkeley Square and The Mystery of Edwin Drood were critically acclaimed… More gruesome than the story-lines involving her roles in Edwin Drood, Hound of the Baskervilles or Lifeboat put together is the fact that she witnessed her husband, stage and film directer Robert B. Sinclair’s vicious stabbing murder by an intruder in their California home in 1970.

Heather Grace Angel was born in Oxford, England, on February 9, 1909.
Heather Angel in Berkeley Square (1933) Image courtesy Dr. Macro

The Hound of the Baskervilles (1932)

Heather Angel is Beryl Stapleton in this lost (found negatives and soundtracks were found and donated to the British Film Institute archives) adaptation of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes thriller Originally serialized in The Strand magazine between 1901 and 1902.

In this first filmed talkie of Doyle’s more horror-oriented story, it calls for the great detective to investigate the death of Sir Charles Baskerville and solve the strange killing that takes place on the moors, feared that there is a supernatural force, a monstrous dog like a fiend that is menacing the Baskerville family ripping the throats from its victims. The remaining heir Sir Henry is now threatened by the curse.

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Mystery of Edwin Drood (1935).

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Douglass Montgomery as Neville Landless and Heather Angel as Rosa Bud in the intensely superior rare gem The Mystery of Edwin Drood (1935)

Mystery of Edwin Drood (played by David Manners) is a dark and nightmarish Gothic tale of mad obsession, drug addiction, and heartless murder! Heather Angel plays the beautiful and kindly young student at a Victorian finishing school, Rosa Bud engaged to John Jasper’s nephew Edwin Drood. The opium-chasing, choir master John Jasper (Claude Rains) becomes driven to mad fixation over Rosa, who is quite aware of his intense gaze, she becomes frightened and repulsed by him.

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The brooding & malevolent Rains frequents a bizarre opium den run by a menacing crone (Zeffie Tilbury), a creepy & outre moody whisper in the melody of this Gothic horror/suspense tale!

Angel and Hobson

Valerie Hobson plays twin sister Helena Landless, the hapless Neville’s sister. (We’ll get to one of my favorites, the exquisite Valerie Hobson in just a bit…) When Neville and Helena arrive at the school, both Edwin and he vies for Rosa’s affection. When Edwin vanishes, naturally Neville is the one suspected in his mysterious disappearance.

OLGA BACLANOVA

Olga Baclanova

Though I’ll always be distracted by Baclanova’s icy performance as the vicious Cleopatra in Tod Browning’s masterpiece Freaks which blew the doors off social morays and became a cultural profane cult film, Baclanova started out as a singer with the Moscow Art Theater. Appearing in several silent films, she eventually co-starred as Duchess Josiana with Conrad Veidt as the tragic Gwynplaine, in another off-beat artistic masterpiece based on the Victor Hugo story The Man Who Laughs (1928)

Freaks (1932)

Tod Browning produced & directed this eternally disturbing & joyful portrait of behind-the-scenes melodrama and at times the Gothic violence of carnival life… based on the story ‘Spurs’ by Tod Robbins. It’s also been known as Nature’s Mistress and The Monster Show.

It was essential for Browning to attain realism. He hired actual circus freaks to bring to life this quirky Grand Guignol, a beautifully grotesque & macabre tale of greed, betrayal, and loyalty.

Cleopatra (Baclanova) and Hercules (Henry Victor) plan to swindle the owner of the circus Hans, (Harry Earles starring with wife Frieda as Daisy) out of his ‘small’ fortune by poisoning him on their wedding night. The close family of side show performers exact poetic yet monstrous revenge! The film also features many memorable circus folks. Siamese conjoined twins Daisy & Violet Hilton, also saluted in American Horror Story (Sarah Paulson another incredible actress, doing a dual role) Schlitze the pinhead, and more!

Freaks

Anyone riveted to the television screen to watch Jessica Lange’s mind-blowing performance as Elsa Mars in American Horror Story’s: Freak Show (2014) will not only recognize her superb nod to Marlene Dietrich, but also much reverence paid toward Tod Browning’s classic and Baclanova’s cunning coldness.

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( BTW as much as I adore Frances McDormand, Lange should have walked away with the Emmy this year! I’ve rarely seen a performance that balances like a tightrope walker, the subtle choreography between gut-wrenching pathos & ruthless sinister vitriol. Her rendition of Bowie’s song Life on Mars…will be a Film Score Freak feature this Halloween season! No, I can’t wait… here’s a peak! it fits the mood of this post…)

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Baclanova and Earles

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“You Freaks!!!!”
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Gooba Gabba… I guess she isn’t one of us after all!

here she is as the evil Countess/duchess luring poor Gwynplain into her clutches The Man Who Laughs (1928).

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Flicker Alley and Universal Pictures Present Paul Leni’s The Man Who Laughs (1928) The Tortured Smile “Hear how they laugh at me. Nothing but a clown!”

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