Why ‘Invisible Man’ Appears More Substantial

The idea of an invisible man may have a long history in Western culture dating back to Plato, but it was H.G. Wells who put him over the top and James Whale who made him immortal.

In “The Invisible Man” (adapted from the Wells novel in 1933), director Whale captures the primal power of the legend with sardonic humor and theatrical flair. And the Universal movie classic features a remarkable performance by Claude Rains (in his American film debut) as the mad scientist and social outcast whose commanding and cackling voice made him an instant star.

“It’s a great wish-fulfillment fantasy of total freedom, total unaccountability,” remarks David Skal, horror historian and producer of the documentary on “The Invisible Man” that accompanies the Universal DVD of the original film (to be released Aug. 29). “Whale makes it work on so many levels. He really knew how to play up the underlying absurdity of the situation.”

Director Paul Verhoeven departs from Whale as much as possible in “Hollow Man,” which debuted as the No. 1 movie, taking in more than $26 million at the box office; the film stars Kevin Bacon as the latest mad scientist to discover the secret of invisibility. In fact, in interviews, Verhoeven doesn’t even cite Whale as an influence. But that’s to be expected from the controversial Dutch director of “Basic Instinct,” “Showgirls” and “Starship Troopers.” He lives to push the cinematic envelope, which he does with gory delight in “Hollow Man.”

The question is, does it work? It depends on whom you talk to, because “Hollow Man,” not surprisingly, has immediately polarized people in their reactions. Some enjoy the graphic return to straight horror, the brilliant computer-generated effects and Verhoeven’s trademark excessiveness, while others (including most of the critics) find it a hollow and tasteless exercise.

Minimalist Horror Versus ‘A Little Gore’

Verhoeven, though, is from the “what’s wrong with a little gore” school of cinema. And after all, this is a horror film. Less is more may have worked last year with “The Sixth Sense” and “The Blair Witch Project,” but the pendulum was bound to swing back in the hands of Verhoeven. Were you expecting something tame like “What Lies Beneath”?

“I think everybody in his life, especially when you’re a child, and your fantasy is without borders, imagines himself as being invisible,” Verhoeven says. “‘What would I do if I was invisible?”

Thanks to Sony Imageworks, the transformation scenes in which Bacon becomes invisible are both beautiful and ugly, and the rest of the effects go way beyond John Fulton’s groundbreaking optical work in the original Universal movies.

“Whale was very smart in the way he dodged around any censorship problems, handling the nudity through an outrageous technicality,” Skal notes. “[Rains] has to be nude and there was nothing they could do about it.”

For Verhoeven, it’s all about nudity, and he can let it all hang out in his R-rated version. Bacon’s Sebastian Caine may be conducting a scientific experiment, but his hunger for power is strictly sexual. He’s obsessed with his voluptuous neighbor, who performs a strip-tease in front of her window every night. Only he’s afraid to do anything about it until he becomes invisible. He also spends a lot of time teasing and tweaking his fellow female scientists when he’s transparent, especially his ex-girlfriend (Elisabeth Shue).

Verhoeven and screenwriter Andrew Marlowe reaffirm that invisibility reduces us to our most primal fantasies. Yet in a rare show of restraint, Verhoeven chooses to cut away from the actual rape of the neighbor. Why? Not for taste reasons--the director says it would look too silly.

Which is exactly what the great comedy writer-director Preston Sturges was concerned about when he took a stab at scripting the original “Invisible Man” before Whale came aboard.

“The strange things about these horror characters is that their effectiveness grows in inverse ratio to the amount of time we see them,” Sturges wrote in a memo. “Familiarity breeds contempt and too much gruesomeness becomes funny.”

Yet the genius of Whale (whose masterpiece was his subsequent film, “The Bride of Frankenstein”) was how he emphasized the humor. “There’s a major humor quotient in ‘The Invisible Man’ which goes part and parcel with Whale,” Skal says. “It really comes through in the reactions of the people, and it’s carried on in the sequels.”

The sequels are a diverse bunch that Whale had nothing to do with, ranging from Vincent Price’s sympathetic fugitive in “The Invisible Man Returns” (1940), Virginia Bruce’s screwball fashion model in “The Invisible Woman” (1940) and Jon Hall’s wartime hero in “The Invisible Agent” (1942).

By contrast, Verhoeven and company take the premise much more seriously. About the only humor to be found in “Hollow Man” is the initial glimpse of the invisible animals in their cages. The filmmakers have a much darker agenda, tapping into male rage and our preoccupation with watching and being watched.

While the nature of the experiments may be surveillance and survival, Bacon’s biggest concern, like every invisible man before him, is how to return to form. When he can’t, he goes completely mad, stalking his colleagues in a murderous rage. It’s straight out of Whale--but without the panache.

“They all echo Whale in one way or another,” Skal suggests. “His influence is there, whether it is completely blatant or not.”

With “Hollow Man’s” interest in voyeurism and survival, Verhoeven and Marlowe have stumbled onto the perfect cross between “Big Brother” and “Survivor.” Which speaks not only of the enduring appeal of the invisible man legend but also its primal relevance. Like it or not, this is truly an invisible man for our time.