James Cruze is remembered by silent film buffs as a man who worked behind the camera, most memorably as director of one of the first great Western epics: The Covered Wagon, released in 1923. However, in earlier years he worked as an actor for the Thanhouser company of New Rochelle, New York, a studio of modest size that was active circa 1910-1917. Cruze can be seen in the role of Dr. Jekyll in Thanhouser's one-reel version of Robert Louis Stevenson's famous tale, an adaptation that is neither the best nor the worst but surely one of the fastest film versions, clocking in at just over eleven minutes. Given the time constraints, these filmmakers really had to cut to the chase! After a brief shot of Dr. Jekyll discussing his theories with an unidentified companion, he's in his lab mixing the potion, and the first transformation takes place before one minute has elapsed. Perhaps it goes without saying that we get only the highlights of the story here.
Don't expect the cobble-stone streets of Victorian London, for this is a low-budget production that appears to have been filmed in the suburbs of New Rochelle, identified only as "the village" in title cards. The presentation is straightforward and rather subdued, and the performances are low-key by the standards of the day. Hyde's makeup job is fairly restrained too, big teeth notwithstanding, certainly when compared to some of the later versions. I was a little surprised to learn that Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde are played by two different actors, at least in some shots. If you watch carefully you'll see that Harry Benham's Hyde is distinctly shorter than Cruze's Jekyll. Ordinarily actors relish the opportunity to play both of these roles, but perhaps the technical limitations of the time dictated this unusual casting decision.
There is one especially effective moment when Jekyll realizes he's on the verge of a transformation into his evil alter ego in the presence of his fiancée, and attempts to get away from her. Viewers familiar with the source material might be interested in a couple of minor alterations from the novel: here, Jekyll's fiancée is the daughter of a minister, and there is a plot twist in the final scene relating to Hyde's death that may come as a surprise. Over all, however, this rendition of the story is little more than a moderately interesting curio. It isn't all that exciting, sorry to say, though allowances should be made for pioneer filmmakers. You know it's still early in cinema history when the shelves in Jekyll's study are painted on the walls -- and you know the movie isn't sufficiently exciting when you find yourself examining Dr. Jekyll's bookshelves.
Don't expect the cobble-stone streets of Victorian London, for this is a low-budget production that appears to have been filmed in the suburbs of New Rochelle, identified only as "the village" in title cards. The presentation is straightforward and rather subdued, and the performances are low-key by the standards of the day. Hyde's makeup job is fairly restrained too, big teeth notwithstanding, certainly when compared to some of the later versions. I was a little surprised to learn that Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde are played by two different actors, at least in some shots. If you watch carefully you'll see that Harry Benham's Hyde is distinctly shorter than Cruze's Jekyll. Ordinarily actors relish the opportunity to play both of these roles, but perhaps the technical limitations of the time dictated this unusual casting decision.
There is one especially effective moment when Jekyll realizes he's on the verge of a transformation into his evil alter ego in the presence of his fiancée, and attempts to get away from her. Viewers familiar with the source material might be interested in a couple of minor alterations from the novel: here, Jekyll's fiancée is the daughter of a minister, and there is a plot twist in the final scene relating to Hyde's death that may come as a surprise. Over all, however, this rendition of the story is little more than a moderately interesting curio. It isn't all that exciting, sorry to say, though allowances should be made for pioneer filmmakers. You know it's still early in cinema history when the shelves in Jekyll's study are painted on the walls -- and you know the movie isn't sufficiently exciting when you find yourself examining Dr. Jekyll's bookshelves.