For a cinemagoer in the 1930s, the Universal horror film was an identifiable and well-known concept. In the late 1920s and early 1930s the studio produced compelling film interpretations of classic characters and source material through a series of movies that established many of the narrative and stylistic rules of the cinematic horror genre. Audience knowledge of these rules did not come from the films alone: it was established for them through the ‘coming attraction’ film trailers that promoted this series of films. These horror trailers created genre-based expectations and educated audiences in the Universal horror brand aesthetic regardless of whether audiences saw the full-length feature. Such trailers functioned as a key site of interaction between audience and studio, and represent a field of study that offers considerably more scope than that suggested by 1930s definitions that reduce them to a selection of ‘interesting and colourful’ highlights from the feature edited together as ‘bait’ to attract an audience (Lasky, 1938, p.13-14; Lewis, 1933, p.248). This opinion has coloured trailer study in the years since. Unlike the feature film, which gained artistic credibility over time and became the site of academic study, trailers have remained a neglected resource: a product of a faceless studio promotions department, not marked as a unique creation in themselves, and with no sign of an author (even less an auteur) in that process of creation. In fact, genre trailers are compelling short films that create atmosphere, establish character and offer specific visual and aural cues, promising audiences the repetition of known genre pleasures. What I want to suggest here is that the tools of analysis used to deepen our appreciation of the longer feature film can be applied just as profitably towards an examination of the two-to-three minute trailer. The trailer and the feature are different beasts, but they share a common ancestry of image, audience manipulation and address that can be subjected to the same level of close textual analysis as a feature film. In the case of the Universal horror trailers, this textual work can be placed within the historical context of industrial and production practices, in the hope of illuminating a specific moment in cinema as well as the establishment of a mode of genre construction.

Before beginning this kind of close analysis, it is important to identify the construction elements contained within these short, often complex trailer texts, and how these create distinct trailer narratives. This study regards trailers as short films in their own right, films whose narrative, imagery and construction can be analysed as a distinct and unique entity. John Gibbs’ comment, that a mise-en-scène analysis ‘enables you to anchor your understanding of a film, and to support your argument with evidence’ (Gibbs, 2002, p.5) is relevant here, with the understanding that the two or three minutes of a trailer are equally full of evidence, each piece layered on top of another, often occurring on different areas of the screen or soundtrack at the same moment. It is the interaction and compression of these layers of evidence that creates a recognisable trailer narrative (that often has little to do with the feature film being promoted). In the 1930s the three strongest trailer narratives were built around stars, technology and genre. In a star trailer such as Jezebel (William Wyler, 1938), the image of Bette Davis controls the trailer: there are seven close-up images of Davis in the trailer’s 90 second running time, five of them featuring identifying titles, she is centred in every excerpted scene and dominates the title and voiceover work that sells her as a ‘great actress’ and a ‘gorgeous spitfire’. Here, the star trailer narrative is built around Davis’ reputation and popularity rather than on the genre or story content of the feature. Technology trailer narratives replace the human star with a technological one: in the 1927 trailer for The Jazz Singer the narrative is dominated by John Miljan’s demonstration of the wonders of synchronized sound, not the narrative content of the feature, or the star image of Al Jolson (which barely features in the trailer’s six minute running time). In a technology trailer narrative, the free sample of cinematic technology is the main appeal, the trailer able to educate and entertain its audience at the same time. The third variety of trailer narrative, the genre trailer, will be considered in this article.

Those 1930s trailers that focused more on story elements tended to run alongside the promotion of a specific film type, advertising an identifiable and marketable set of genre conventions. Trailers for early gangster films such as The Public Enemy (William Wellman, 1931) and Under-Cover Man (James Flood, 1932) use recognisable imagery and narrative conventions to suggest generic credentials: their sales messages are structured round shadowy low-life figures, tough talking characters, gunfights, and declamatory inter-titles that stress character motivations based on revenge, violence, and death. These repetitions allow the trailers to promise audiences the known pleasures of a genre picture. Lisa Kernan refers to these known pleasures as a ‘generic space… a comfort zone of familiarity spiced with differentiation’ (Kernan, 2004, p. 213). Kernan’s larger project is ultimately concerned with an historical narrative of rhetorical address in trailers so her attempts to chart the changes in genre trailers between 1927 and 1999 offers only a very general sense of how ‘all’ genres are depicted in trailer advertising. Given the changes that can take place within a film genre in the space of a decade, her macro-view of the genre trailer offers little guide for an in-depth consideration of the construction of genre and education of the audience. Most genre films can be said to contain this comfort zone (combining stylistic elements within the mise-en-scène and using narrative repetition), but Kernan does not consider how trailers developed this shorthand method to allow audiences to quickly identify the known pleasures of genre movies. My interest here is to analyse a small sample of trailers (both in terms of numbers studied, and years covered), one that will demonstrate how trailers establish genre for an audience and how subtle changes take place in these generic sales messages, especially at a time when the genre’s main conventions are still being worked through, both by trailers and by the features they advertise.

The Universal horror films of the 1930s offer a convenient sample for that project. Having been popular during the late silent period, the studio’s films gained widespread prominence during the 1930s. Like other genre advertising of the period, trailers for these horror films had to identify a series of conventions for the films being advertised, and use these to construct a sales message around the film genre. Although the availability of early trailers limits a complete investigation of all genre trailers, previews from four of the major horror films of the period are available: Universal’s productions of Dracula (Tod Browning, 1931), Frankenstein (James Whale, 1932), The Mummy (Karl Freund, 1933) and Bride of Frankenstein (James Whale, 1935)ⁱ. In order to show how genre and the ‘star’ characters of Dracula, Frankenstein’s Monster and the Mummy were sold to audiences, the article will perform a close analysis of the basic structural components of a trailer, those tools or elements that build up to create a trailer narrative. These include excerpted scenes, editing (including wipes and dissolves), music, sound effects, the use of dialogue, voiceover, inter-titles, and graphic images. The use of excerpted scenes (either with or without dialogue), graphic wipes and inter-titles are areas of particular importance to the creation of meaning within a trailer: the selection and placement of an excerpted scene can change the meaning the same scene would have in the feature (see my discussion of Renfield’s excerpted scene in the Dracula trailer below); graphic wipes highlight the transition between images, and often contain non-diegetic information that suggests genre or additional narrative information (e.g. wipes in the shape of keyholes in mystery trailers, a Top Hat-shaped wipe in many Fred Astaire trailers); and the direct address of inter-titles which can offer ‘logical’ information (star names, film titles), withhold information for dramatic purposes, create emotional links, explain the action or offer additional genre credentials through the use of particular fonts and graphic devices. My analysis of the layering of these different trailer elements will make clear how distinct genre narratives and sales messages are constructed, and how these in turn educate audiences in the known pleasures of that genre.

Two primary areas of genre trailer construction will be explored through the close analysis of these texts:

1. Genre character as star – how do these trailers present their central horror characters as star figures?

2. Genre narrative – how do these trailers construct and sell a horror narrative?

The examination of these two areas will help us explore how these horror trailers are constructed, and how genre sales messages were created through the repetition of compelling visual and thematic conventions. Alongside the genre-specific sales messages in these horror trailers there is another consideration: studio branding. The particular style of Universal’s horror films, influenced by German Expressionism, was developed through silent horror films such as The Hunchback of Notre Dame (Wallace Worsley, 1923), Phantom of the Opera (Rupert Julian, 1925), The Cat and the Canary (Paul Leni, 1927) and The Man Who Laughs (Paul Leni, 1928). The following analyses will consider whether these trailers traded on this Universal style, promoting the studio alongside its most famous genre icons. This combination of historical knowledge, production information and close analysis of four specific trailers will demonstrate how the studio system (and Universal particularly) hoped to sell specific films, and a particular generic appeal, to audiences of the 1930s.

‘The Greatest HORROR the screen has ever known!’: Genre character as star

Each of these trailers opens with a classic image that immediately identifies the central character as a horrific, supernatural figure. In the Dracula trailer a hand emerges from beneath the lid of a wooden coffin, accompanied by a dramatic music sting and a title that claims ‘In all the annals of living HORROR…ONE NAME stands out as the epitome of EVIL!’ The trailer then cuts to a medium shot of Bela Lugosi who intones ‘I am Dracula’. The Frankenstein trailer cuts quickly between rampaging villagers and laboratory scenes before settling on a close up of the Monster’s face, over which the film title is superimposed. The Mummy trailer features a burial chamber and hieroglyphics lit by torchlight before cutting to the Mummy’s shadowy face, while the Bride of Frankenstein trailer exclaims ‘FRANKENSTEIN RETURNS’ over a shot of the monster (again on the run from rampaging villagers).

In all four trailers, some audience pre-knowledge of these genre ‘stars’ is assumed. In the case of Dracula and Frankenstein (and his Monster), the characters had pre-existing cultural lives. Both novels had been popular successes since their publication (Frankenstein in 1819, Dracula in 1897) and there had been silent film treatments of both storiesⁱⁱ. However, the level of audience awareness of these characters in the 1930s was not achieved through classic novels and old silent movies alone: both films were based on successful Broadway adaptations of the late 1920s. Of the other two films, Bride of Frankenstein presumes audience knowledge through its status as a sequel, and The Mummy’s production was inspired by public interest in Egypt after the 1922 discovery of Tutenkhamen’s tomb and the subsequent much-publicised curse of Tutenkhamen. This cultural resonance allows the characters to be quickly centred within the trailers, the source of the developing trailer narrative. In a traditional 1930s star trailer, where the narrative was dominated by a star-specific sales message (as in Jezebel, above), close-up images of the star (normally glamorous ones) would be accompanied by identifying titles to situate them at the centre of the trailer narrative, conveying the fact that it was this star imagery that ‘controlled’ the trailer. In the case of the Universal trailer, the horror character close-ups are heralded with a genre characteristic, directly linking the character with the horror genre they embody. Dracula’s coffin, Dr. Frankenstein’s laboratory, the rampaging villagers, and the Mummy’s burial chamber all feature as strongly in the opening of these trailers as the identifying character close-up (Figures 1-6). Elevating these horror characters to a position similar to a 1930s star image does suggest that their presentation in the trailer will have more depth than simply a horrific figure. Although Dracula, Frankenstein’s Monster and the Mummy are shown attacking or killing people in these trailers, this almost-star prominence gives them some of the control that the attractive, desirable star image of Bette Davis is afforded in a star trailer such as Jezebel, where her image dominates the trailer narrative. Alongside their horror aspects, there are moments in each trailer where the monstrous figure’s romantic side (albeit a Gothic one) emerges.

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Of these three horror figures, the character most often associated with Gothic romanticism is Dracula. The Dracula trailer moves from its traditional horrific image of ‘a man who lived after death, lived on human blood, took the form of a vampire bat’ (trailer voice-over), to a suggestion of the character’s sexual side. The trailer cuts to a medium shot of Dracula looming over Mina, asleep in bed. As Dracula bends towards Mina, the voice-over says he ‘lured innocent girls to a fate truly worse than death’ and the camera moves in to frame them together as though they were lovers. The trailer cuts away, and never shows Dracula actually biting Mina. This sets up a question in the trailer: what is this fate worse than death? The next excerpted scene elaborates: in a medium shot of Mina and Jonathan sitting down, the spurned husband begs her to explain: ‘Oh, what has he done to you, dear? Tell me’. Mina turns away from him, hiding, with her head laid on her arm. Her speech falters, as though she is about to admit to an unfortunate dalliance or indiscretion. Her first words, ‘He came to me…’ back up the earlier sexual image of Dracula in her bedroom. Here, the Gothic romance thread of the trailer is at its strongest but, luckily for Jonathan, the trailer moves back into the horrific: ‘He opened a vein in his arm…and he made me drink’. The clap of thunder that accompanies this revelation attempts to curtail the possibility of Dracula as a sexual figure in the trailer: titles re-emphasise his horror credentials: ‘BACK from the Grave… the undead FIEND!’

The presentation of the horror characters as sexual figures is very carefully handled in these trailers, offering suggestive hints and juxtaposition of image and title work before returning to a direct horror image that reasserts the character’s evil nature. This subtlety is no doubt linked to the rise of film censorship in the 1930s, which affected film advertising as well as film production. In 1930, studio publicity heads signed an agreement to promote ‘good taste’ in advertising but this was not enforced until 1934, when the Production Code Administration (PCA) formed an advertising arm, the Advertising Advisory Council (AAC) (Haralovich, 1983, p. 55). None of the documents concerning the 1930 agreement, or the 1934 amendment, mention trailers in the list of advertising materials that had to be submitted to the AAC but it is unlikely that trailers were exempt from their scrutiny. The AAC’s British equivalent, the British Board of Film Censors, initially insisted all trailer advertising had to satisfy a ‘U’ certificate, before introducing ‘A’ and eventually ‘H’ certificates (Trevelyan, 1973, 179). There is also at least one recorded instance of Joseph L. Breen, the head of the PCA, banning a trailer, for a 1936 film, Desire (D.W.C., 1936, p.4). In the case of these horror previews, the trailer producers were obviously being careful that any suggestion of a romantic nature was over-shadowed by a more acceptable depiction of the characters as evil horrific figures – probably to appease (and avoid) any AAC censorship concerns.

The Frankenstein trailer initially appears to follow this censorship-inspired structure, working hard to build up negative associations with the Monster, who dominates the trailer’s running time (Dr. Frankenstein barely appears). Using the Monster’s image as the central sales concept was a promotional decision that extended beyond the trailer: the make-up design was well publicized and featured on almost all poster and press advertising for the film (Brunas, 1990, p.8). The genre trailer satisfies the advance audience expectation of seeing the Monster in horror situations with scenes of the Monster twitching to life and attacking numerous men. The trailer also subverts a touching scene from the film (the monster’s gentle interaction with the child) to emphasise the theme of the monster as ‘the greatest HORROR the screen has ever known’ (trailer voice-over). This straight horrific message seems to continue when the trailer cuts to a long shot of Elizabeth, in her bridal gown, sitting in her bedroom. The Monster appears (as Dracula did, within a bedroom setting) and lurches towards Elizabeth, who runs away, screaming. The language of the narrative voice-over is important here, linking the depiction of the Monster to a romantic, star image – and following a similar sexually suggestive line from the film’s print campaign: ‘No man has ever seen its like…No woman’s kiss ever touched its lips!’ (Curtis, 1982, p. 88) The trailer voice-over makes three comments, listing the effects the Monster has on men, women and children. Terror will ‘strike…the hearts of men’, women will be shocked ‘into uncontrolled hysteria’, while the Monster will ‘prey on the innocence’ of children. Alongside the visual depiction – the Monster fighting men, in the bedroom with Elizabeth, looming over the child – the language suggests that women have a different reaction to the Monster. Rather than striking terror into their hearts or preying on them, the woman’s shock and hysteria on seeing the Monster seems more suggestive of seeing a desirable screen icon than being confronted by ‘the greatest horror’ the screen has ever seen.

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The Monster’s representation throughout the trailer offers a deeper characterisation than the initial genre image. In addition to his (possible) sexual side, towards the end of the trailer there is again a juxtaposition of image and inter title that suggests a different, gentler side to the Monster. The titles announce ‘See Karloff in his most terrifying performance – as the fiendish monster’ while the Monster is shown in medium shot at the centre-bottom of screen. There are no horrific conventions at play: the Monster is not attacking anyone, he is shown on his own, and does not appear terrifying or fiendish. Instead, with his head tilted up and arms raised to the top of the screen, he looks anguished, not menacing. The trailer has satisfied audience expectation by offering the central genre image they expect, but also shown a more complex Monster through inter-titles and excerpted scenes that suggest there is more to the character than audiences are aware.

The link between horror character and romantic/sexual attraction is made most explicit in The Mummy. Early in the trailer, the voice-over describes Imhotep the Mummy as a ‘creeping crawling terror’, with excerpted scenes that establish this image. Halfway through its running time the trailer cuts to a scene between the mummy and his intended bride, Helen. The couple are framed in a medium shot (the only time Helen is depicted with another character) and Imhotep’s monologue develops the romantic, Gothic side of the character, adding to the sense of control and power centred in all these horrific characters: ‘You will not remember what I show you now… and yet I shall awaken in you memories of love and crime, and death.’ The Mummy seduces Helen by leading her into his world, positioning their romance as a central narrative theme, and developing the character beyond a simply horror figure. There is a direct sexual link in this trailer, not a suggestive one as in the Dracula trailer. As in Frankenstein and Dracula the trailer does not linger on this romantic characteristic for long but The Mummy‘s titles do add extra spice: ‘BURIED ALIVE FOR 3700 years! Brought back to LIVE, LOVE, and KILL!’

Those three words apply equally to all three genre characters – living and killing may be their central characteristics, but loving is equally as important to their portrayal in these trailers. These horror characters are presented as strong star images by the same techniques used to promote 1930s matinee idols or glamorous female stars. They are central within the trailer narrative, they dominate the visuals of the trailer, the voice-over commentary is about them, and the trailer works hard to present them as horrific yet appealing characters. This was no doubt an essential marketing technique to attract the widest possible audience, but the emphasis on the romantic aspects of the central characters suggests a special appeal to the female audience. Lugosi and Karloff were not matinee idols in the style of Clark Gable or Gary Cooper, but their characters are mysterious and fascinating figures. By promoting these, and ignoring the other characters (whose function in the trailers is to be seduced or attacked) the trailer offers these genre characters as alluringly dangerous star images.

‘It’s Alive!’: Genre narrative

Given the powerful presence of a character star in these trailers, and the credentials that the trailers offer for those character images, the genre character star is demonstrably different from the 1930s star figure. In these genre trailers, the horror character is the star, not the actor who plays them. Dracula appears at the centre of the trailer narrative, not Bela Lugosi. Lugosi and Karloff’s status as nascent genre icons is given scant screen time: one of the final images in the Dracula trailer states Lugosi is ‘the master of horror’, and the penultimate title of the Frankenstein preview proclaims ‘See KARLOFF in his most terrifying performance… there can never be another FRANKENSTEIN.’ The focus of the trailer is far more skewed towards establishing and developing the genre character star than linking that character to an actor’s name. Lugosi and Karloff are not the star attraction, the way that Joan Crawford would have been, they are supplementary sales messages, subordinate to the genre narrative and the character they have created. While the classic star image exists outside of the advertised film as the product of publicity departments, the genre character star is deeply rooted within the trailer narrative. The genre trailer is not undermined or unbalanced by its character stars, it uses them as the basis for a strong story-based construction.

Analysing the trailers for Dracula, Frankenstein and The Mummy shows that although they may differ in narrative emphasis they have almost identical structures. The trailer opens on its genre character star, identifying them either through dialogue, voice-over or titles. The trailer narrative moves through genre conventions – the horror figure is shown fighting or attacking men and women, solitary shots tend to be in shadow, other unnamed characters are shown as victims – while the declamatory voice-over narrates a character-specific story. Excerpted scenes will be used for narrative information, and to characterize the genre character through atmospheric images. The trailer will build to a moment of suspense, and then frame the central figure in the final shot, centring the narrative back on them. The Bride of Frankenstein trailer differs slightly from this structure because it has a dual sales message within its narrative: it starts and ends with the same structure, promoting the Monster, centring him within genre conventions, but by switching its focus onto the Bride halfway through, that structure is disruptedⁱⁱⁱ.

This narrative structure – identify genre character, offer credentials for that figure, centre them in the narrative, provide visual and narrative information, re-centre genre figure – runs through these four trailers but there is a distinct stylistic split between them. Those for the earlier films, Dracula and Frankenstein, contain what could be called a narrative summary, where the structure is used to broadly outline elements of the feature’s plot and style. The later trailers for The Mummy and Bride of Frankenstein also contain plot and stylistic information, but use story details to lure or tease an audience, building the trailer narrative to a cliff-hanger that will entice the audience back into the cinema. In the following analyses, this evolution of the genre sales message will be considered by looking at the use of traditional trailer elements, and how they are combined to create separate narrative styles within the same trailer structure.

The Narrative Summary

If the narrative summary at its most basic is a reiteration of feature information, then the Frankenstein trailer offers the clearest example of the trailer narrative mirroring the feature. The trailer moves visually from Dr. Frankenstein’s laboratory, through the Monster first twitching into life and attacking people, to the villagers pursuing and trapping the Monster in the burning windmill. This has the ability to display the highpoints of the film to an audience while keeping the Monster (the most famous image from the film – and possibly from all the Universal horror films) as central as possible. The visuals and the voice-over provide the main narrative thrust in this trailer, while diegetic dialogue is kept to a minimum (though it does include the famous Colin Clive line ‘It’s Alive! It’s Alive!’). Throughout, the visuals are used to suggest the film’s atmosphere alongside narrative information: the impressive laboratory set, exploding with special effects and flashing lights; the Monster looming out of the castle’s shadows; the spectacle of the burning windmill. This may be linked to the film’s cultural status as a classic horror story, the trailer cutting between well-known narrative spaces, and demonstrating to audiences the scale of the film. While the visuals sell the film’s style, the audience is guided by a narrative voice-over:

When this dead hand moves, a monster created by a man they called mad is turned loose to strike terror into the hearts of men…THIS is the story you’ve heard about – talked about – the spine-chilling, blood-curdling story that stuns your emotions…FRANKENSTEIN!

The most unusual aspect of the trailer narrative is that it reveals aspects of the feature’s conclusion, rather than leaving the ending unresolved. Unlike the later ‘narrative lure’ trailers of The Mummy and Bride of Frankenstein, the Frankenstein trailer ends where the film does: trapped in the windmill, the Monster throws Dr. Frankenstein’s body over the side, while the villagers encircle the windmill, now fully ablaze. The only moment that detracts from this ‘ending’ is when the trailer cuts to a shot of Dr. Frankenstein and Fritz heaving a coffin out of the ground. As the title over this image reads ‘There can never be another – ’ it could be a sly reference to the film’s 1935 sequel, or at least a suggestion that the Monster does not die in the burning windmill after all. The decision to offer a resolution after effectively summarizing the highlights of the feature narrative could reflect the level of audience pre-awareness of the film’s story (and ending). The trailer would then have no need to withhold any narrative knowledge and could use the spectacular visuals of the windmill as a reminder of the film’s climax. The Frankenstein trailer’s sales message would then be based on advance audience knowledge as well as the more standard visual conventions and declamatory language.

Similar in many ways to the Frankenstein trailer – not least in that it offers a plot summary of the feature it is advertising – the Dracula trailer puts more focus on the visual atmosphere of the film. All of these trailers feature examples of what could be called the Universal horror style but the Dracula trailer deliberately builds its sales message around this style. From its opening images of a hand crawling out from under a coffin lid, to the spectral figures of Dracula’s brides in the castle, to its closing shot of Dracula, in the shadows, enveloping Mina in his cloak, the trailer narrative moves to centre these atmospheric scenes. The visual narrative is accompanied by a declamatory voice-over, almost superfluous next to the trailer’s images:

Dracula. The very mention of the name brings to mind things so evil, so fantastic, so degrading, you wonder if it isn’t all a dream…a nightmare. But no, this is no dream…this is Dracula.

 

From Reality to Psychic Chaos

Taxi Driver that he felt she wanted him to come and talk to her, and the desire he sensed between them gave him the courage to come and talk, he offers the comments in a slightly whiny, beseeching tone, and though he occasionally shouts in his films, he often does so like a man very much raising his voice, rather than someone who lowers it when he talks quietly. He is, like Brando, surprisingly softly spoken. His is not a voice that shares space with others, but expects others to move closer to him, to try and hear him. In body language and vocal pitch De Niro doesn’t indicate the social, but a strange, slightly creepy intimacy, and thus is again opposed to the depersonalization of the musical, or the agency of the action film. This is an ‘intimacy’ however closer to the threat of a darkened room one venture into with wariness. De Niro’s ‘intimacy’ is rarely charming or safe.

So what we have looked at is the way De Niro’s aspects don’t lend themselves well to the social, but is that not also true of other anti-heroes of the seventies, actors like Jack Nicholson and Al Pacino? Nicholson was undeniably an anti-hero in films like Five Easy Pieces, One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest and The Last Detail, but he seemed less the outsider than the gregarious rebel, determined to create micro-social events out of oppressive situations, as evident in playing the piano during the traffic jam in Five Easy Pieces, determining to get Randy Quaid’s character laid in The Last Detail, to get everybody to watch the baseball game in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Also, Nicholson has one of the most perfect smiles in cinema, a grin ripe for social interaction, and a lip-smacking sense of the pleasures to come. He also always knew how to move through cinematic space ready to seduce, and any reservations in his mind seemed to have less to do with rejection, than with the problem of how easily seduction could take place – from Five Easy Pieces to The Witches of Eastwick. Nicholson is an anti-hero, certainly, but by no means anti-social. Pacino, meanwhile, possesses a voice that is nothing if not commanding, a determined bark from a very small dog, and the caricatural element of Pacino resides in the roar of a lion from the body of a mouse. His nickname is ‘Big Al’. Frequefrontation with this strange horror figure, a raving madman and the beautiful woman who has fallen under the vampire’s spell. Taken together with the other images of Dracula looking out of the shadows, attacking men and women, and staring into the camera with mesmerising eyes, the trailer narrative centres its primary figure in a compelling atmosphere.

Between them, the Dracula and Frankenstein trailers reflect the ability of the genre trailer to summarize a compelling narrative around the central horror character, offering a range of plot information through inter-titles and narrative voiceover. Both trailers emphasise the visual aspects of the feature they advertise, using the strong images to remind audiences of the genre. This use of imagery to structure a sales message shows that the German Expressionist style that infused many of these Universal horror films could be used as a strong, recognisable genre convention. In both trailers, there is a sense of a complete story being told: the Frankenstein Monster is shown being created, on the rampage, then being destroyed; Dracula is shown mesmerising and attacking his victims, corrupting Mina, then drawing him to her and enfolding her into his cloak. Although there is not a definite resolution, the trailers do not highlight the unresolved nature of their narratives, instead relying on the power of the imagery and the attraction of the central horror figure to appeal to audiences. It is possible that the pre-existing cultural knowledge around these characters and stories (the Frankenstein trailer voice-over notes ‘This is the story you’ve heard about’) is the reason why these trailers offer more of a sense of resolution. When less famous characters were being sold, the trailers would have to look for an additional hook to attract audiences.

The Narrative Lure

Although there is still a narrative focus driving the trailers for The Mummy and Bride of Frankenstein it is the resolution – or lack thereof – of the trailer narrative that sets them apart from the earlier previews. The concept of withholding information to create suspense was not a new technique within genre trailer construction: the 1925 Phantom of the Opera trailer withheld the image of Lon Chaney as the Phantom (Freer, 2003, p.94), and 1930s murder mystery trailers often built their sales narratives around the concept of ‘whodunnit?’ However, having seen the narrative summary depicted in the earlier trailers, these two trailers offer an evolution of the sales message constructed to sell Universal’s horror genre. Both trailers open with what appears to be a very similar sales message to the narrative summary examples. A genre character is introduced and identified, associated with genre conventions, and the audience is offered narrative information through inter-titles and excerpted scenes. It is from this point that the trailer narrative is altered, withholding any sense of resolution, deliberately creating and highlighting a cliff-hanger narrative. These narratives lure an audience in and then refuse to resolve or conclude their story.

The trailer for The Mummy offers a balance of story information and atmospheric scene setting, while withholding crucial information from the audience in order to create its cliff-hanger resolution. Two main excerpted scenes at the beginning and end of the trailer convey the narrative information while other shots suggest the exoticism of Egyptian settings and the ‘nameless horror’ of Imhotep himself. At the beginning of the trailer, a shadowy burial casket is shown, with two men staring at it. One of them translates the hieroglyphics: ‘Death…eternal punishment for anyone who opens this casket’. At this stage the trailer has established a linear narrative, offering the audience brief, shadowy glimpses of what came out of the casket: Imhotep. The character of the Mummy is conveyed through the genre conventions already discussed: the initial character close-up, association with a genre characteristic (a burial chamber) and shots of him attacking people. After showing the Mummy and his female victim, Helen, the trailer cuts to the male hero who proclaims ‘Now I know his horrible plan. He is going to kill her and make her into a living mummy like himself!’ At this point, the linear trailer narrative stops: it has suggested enough of the plot to attract audience attention. The last images of the trailer illustrate the hero’s exclamation and offer the trailer’s main narrative lure. First, cutting back to a long shot of the burial chamber, where Helen is tied to an altar, then a close shot of a knife about to plunge into her stomach, before cutting back to an image of the Mummy and the film’s title. The fate of Helen, whether the hero will defeat ‘the nameless horror’ of the Mummy: these unresolved narrative questions would become standard in genre trailers, building the tension for an audience and not relieving that tension as an attempt to entice them into watching the feature.

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Figure 8.

The concept of leaving the audience wanting more, offering them a narrative lure through withholding the resolution of the trailer narrative, is best exemplified by the trailer for Bride of Frankenstein. This trailer does not immediately fit into the identified genre structure, having two central horror characters to try and build a narrative around. There is less declamatory title work, no diegetic dialogue (bar screams and diegetic noises), and no narrative voice-over. The trailer’s narrative is contained in four inter-titles (Figures 7-10): ‘FRANKENSTEIN RETURNS!’, ‘In search of a bride!’, ‘The MONSTER’S BRIDE in the making!’, and ‘What will she LOOK like?’ Because of its nature as a sequel, the trailer does not have to offer the same level of genre information about the image of the Monster. It identifies him, and places him in two genre situations (being chased by villagers, breaking free from his chains and menacing a woman) but after that the Monster’s presence in the trailer is diminished. Indeed, the disappearance of the Monster – the central horrific figure – from the trailer is reflected in the trailer’s unclear narrative – the trailer builds one narrative around the Monster’s return, and his search for a bride, that seems to culminate when he attacks and kidnaps Dr. Frankenstein’s wife.

The trailer then cuts to a new narrative, built around the creation of the Bride. While this is not a completely different narrative strand (it is essentially a continuation of the Monster’s quest for a bride) it is accompanied by a noticeable change in trailer structure, using the appearance of the Bride as the trailer’s narrative lure. Unlike the Monster’s early ‘star’ appearance, the Bride is withheld from the audience. Despite widespread cultural knowledge of the Bride’s make-up – her image was used on all the 1935 publicity posters (Riley, 1989, p.45) – the trailer narrative completely withholds any sign of her. The trailer builds to its (apparent) climax through a remarkable creation sequence: remarkable for the time because the trailer structure uses short, sharp editing of images, with at least seven or eight rapid cuts in three or four seconds. These build audience anticipation until the trailer cuts to a long shot of the laboratory that shows Drs. Frankenstein and Praetorius on either side of the bed. They tilt the bed towards the screen so that the audience can see the female body lying there, and the camera tracks in, keeping the female figure central. But although the trailer raises audience curiosity it does not satisfy it: the figure that is presented to the audience is wrapped in bandages. The title teases the audience further – ‘What will she LOOK like?’ Rather than reveal too much, the trailer is content to leave the question unanswered, hoping that this narrative lure will be strong enough to get audiences back into the cinema. Having reached this stage, the Bride of Frankenstein trailer has fulfilled the concept of the narrative lure perfectly. However, after building to this cliff-hanger the trailer is not quite finished. It cuts back to an image of the original Monster, re-centring him back into the sales narrative and adding a final sales message: that in this film, the Monster talks. This functions as an additional narrative lure, because no footage of the Monster speaking is included in the trailer. Returning to its earlier sales message reasserts the dual nature and narrative strands at work in the trailer: the humanizing of the Monster and the creation of the Monster’s Bride.

Figure 9.

Figure 10.

By building a compelling trailer narrative, and drawing in audiences to a genre story centred round an attractive horror character star, the narrative lure trailer closely resembles the narrative summary examples. It is the resolution (or lack thereof) that signifies the main difference in style. With no sense of narrative fulfilment, often with inter-titles that highlight and openly promote the lack of completion – ‘What will she LOOK like?’ – the narrative lure trailer is an effective and compelling advertising technique. Its strength in teasing audiences and building up anticipation over forthcoming releases meant that it would dominate genre trailer production for years to come, and in some cases, still dominates to this day.

Conclusion

As this analysis shows, the creation of the genre character star and a distinct genre narrative are at the heart of these 1930s Universal horror trailers and dominate their respective running times. Between them, these previews use existing genre trailer techniques, but develop them to centre the genre figure: voice-over and inter titles stress horrific credentials such as the ‘greatest horror’ or the ‘epitome of evil’; dialogue exchanges reposition or develop that figure through the suggestion of a romantic, sexual side; and visual conventions offer thematic repetition through shots that stress shadowy Expressionistic composition (an essential part of the Universal brand image as well as a genre characteristic), sinister characters and supernatural events. These conventions were essential within a genre trailer to convey quickly to an audience the repetition and continuation of pleasure that a genre film promised. These trailers do contain other structural conventions – The Mummy trailer links its (lesser known) genre character star to previous and established successes, with inter-titles that claim the film (and, by extension, the character) is ‘Stranger than Dracula! More fantastic than Frankenstein!’ – but these are secondary concerns, rarely developed or centred within the trailer sales message.

The construction techniques studied here show that the conventions of character star and genre narrative were not static – rather than one, established genre style or narrative, there is instead a continual redefinition, a process of evolution that can be seen within the sales messages of the horror previews. The Dracula and Frankenstein trailers place the horrific figure at the core of a trailer narrative that is centred on them, the atmospheric visuals and a summation of narrative events that refer back to their status as established horror icons. This mix of atmosphere and narrative focus is refined in the trailers for The Mummy and Bride of Frankenstein, with the addition of a narrative lure that highlights the lack of narrative resolution, creating an unresolved climax. This lack of trailer resolution would soon become a strong characteristic outside of the horror genre and offer another evolution within 1930s trailer style, ultimately becoming a common structural convention.

By focusing on a specific moment in trailer (and film) history a combination of textual analysis and industrial knowledge allows genre-specific traits to be identified that move beyond the idea of a generic comfort zone towards a more complex model. The changes in the horror genre that occur within a body of films, or across a decade, can be effectively traced within trailer advertising, where new developments are reflected and often foregrounded in an attempt to educate audiences. As a site of negotiation between studios and their audience, trailers reveal historical details about how Hollywood spoke to its public, how they attempted to influence them, and about the integral role trailers played in an audience’s cinematic experience. These complex texts reward the job of analysis: unpicking and prising apart the layering within a trailer reveals evidence that can illuminate moments in film history, and offer an alternative to how that history has been disseminated and understood. Trailers expose the machinations of the star system, and the studio’s attempts to shape and manage star imagery; trailers offer free samples of new technology as a narrative lure for audiences uncertain (or unaware) of what such developments might mean; trailers highlight spectacle within trailer narratives well before the modern blockbuster caught up with such practices; and, as we have seen, trailers offer a different perspective on the creation and expansion of genre in the studio system. Rather than dismiss trailers as a collection of interesting highlights edited together as audience bait, it is time to look closer at these unique short films and appreciate that they have become attractions in their own right.

 

 

i The trailers available via Universal’s DVD releases may date from a later re-release in 1938-39. However, reusing the original trailer (or a slightly cut-down version) for re-releases was standard studio practice.

ii Dracula had been adapted twice: a lost Hungarian film, Drakula and F. W. Murnau’s unofficial adaptation Nosferatu. Frankenstein was adapted three times: for a 1910 Edison short, the 1915 silent feature Life Without Soul and the 1920 Italian film Il Monstro di Frankenstein.

iii The Bride of Frankenstein trailer also avoids any suggestion of the film’s comic overtones, keen to stress strong genre character and conventions rather than try to suggest ways in which the film differs from the standard horror films of the time (or the Universal tradition).

iv The reason for the placement of the ‘mirror’ scene is not initially clear in the trailer: the mirror is not shown, therefore audiences may not know why Dracula rears away. However, the scene links to the successful stage play, which also featured Edward Van Sloan as Van Helsing, and Bela Lugosi as Dracula.

Works cited

Brunas, Michael, John Brunas & Tom Weaver. Universal Horrors – The Studio’s Classic Films, 1931 – 1946. Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 1990.

Curtis, James. James Whale. Metuchen, NJ: Scarecrow Press, 1982.

D. W. C. ‘Renovating the Trailer.’ New York Times (May 10th, 1936), p. 4.

Freer, Ian. ‘The 50 Greatest Movie Trailers of All Time,’ Empire (August 2003), pp. 94-99.

Gibbs, John. Mise-en-scène: Film Style and Interpretation. London: Wallflower Press, 2002.

Harlovich, Mary Beth. ‘Mandates of Good Taste: The Self-Regulation of Film Advertising in the Thirties.’ Wide Angle 6, 2 (1983), pp. 50-57.

Kernan, Lisa. Coming Attractions: Reading American Movie Trailers. Austin: University of Texas Press, 2004.

Lasky, Jesse. ‘The Producer Makes A Plan.’ In We Make the Movies, edited by Nancy Naumberg, pp. 1-15. London: Faber & Faber, 1938.

Lewis, Howard T. The Motion Picture Industry. New York: D. Van Nostrand Company, 1933.

Motion Picture Producers and Distributors Association. Advertising Code and Agreement for Uniform Interpretation. New York: MPPDA pamphlet, 1930.

Riley, Philip J. Bride of Frankenstein, Absecon, NJ: MagicImage Filmbooks, 1989.

Trevelyan, John. What the Censor Saw. London: Michael Joseph, 1973.

Contributor details

Keith M. Johnston will complete his PhD project, History, Technology and the Film Trailer, at the University of Kent, UK in the summer of 2007.