The Hunchback of Notre Dame (William Dieterle, 1939)

The second Hollywood classic made from the Victor Hugo source novel (I wrote about the 1923 silent version, with Lon Chaney in the Quasimodo role, in 2015; here's the link), 1939's The Hunchback of Notre Dame has a great cast, a great director in William Dieterle, top-notch sets, hundreds of extras, an ambitiously epic sweep with lots of delicate personal touches, and finely developed characters who don't get lost in the bigness of it all. It's a great example of how to handle a large canvas without succumbing to bloat.

This second Hollywood version follows the beats of the silent film fairly closely, including retaining the major change to Hugo's novel (making the priest an honorable man instead of a villainous one and transferring his deeds to his brother to avoid angering the church), but Dieterle's compositions and visual emphases make it much more than just another remake or adaptation. 

This version also draws much more attention to the French government's persecution of gypsies, making an obvious parallel to the Nazis' persecution of the Jews. Dieterle, a German actor/director who moved to Hollywood to pursue job offers a few years before the Nazis began consolidating their power, helped many fellow Germans fleeing the Nazis find work in Hollywood, putting in recommendations for professional peers and hiring nonprofessionals as extras so they could make some money while getting back on their feet.

Given one of the largest RKO budgets at the time, the filmmakers shot most of Hunchback on elaborate sets, though the bell tower interiors were filmed in the philosophy building at USC, Mudd Hall, which was equipped with a bell tower. These sets are something else, and the hundreds of extras bustling through them give a real sense of a city teeming with life. I complained about this in my 1923 Hunchback review, but modern studio filmmaking with its digital shortcuts creates such an empty feeling in me as a viewer. There's a tactile energy and texture of image that's missing from today's computer-generated slop. I don't think I'm being a Luddite or a things-were-better-in-my-day grouch (I was a long way from existing in 1939; how old do you people think I am?) because I care about aesthetics and practically created images.

I could rant about that all day, but I'll rant about how great the cast is instead. Lon Chaney Jr. almost reprised his father's role as Quasimodo, but Charles Laughton won out in the end. Laughton makes a great Quasimodo, and the creations of makeup artist Perc Westmore (who had a famously combative working relationship with Laughton) influenced so many people who came after him. (Sloth in The Goonies is pretty much Laughton's Quasimodo with the left and right sides of the face reversed.)

Laughton was also responsible for the casting of Maureen O'Hara, in her first American movie, as Esmeralda. He was impressed by her when they worked together on Hitchcock's Jamaica Inn and insisted on her getting the part, which was bad news for the already cast Kathryn Adams, who was demoted to a much smaller role. I will willingly admit that O'Hara hardly looks like a poor, oppressed gypsy woman. She doesn't even look like someone who's spent a single night in an uncomfortable bed. However, the camera loves her, and it's easy to see why half the characters lose their minds over her. She's got that movie star charisma you can't manufacture. 

Other notable cast members include Cedrick Hardwicke as Frollo (master of the quietly withering stare), Thomas Mitchell as Clopin, and, in his first movie, Edmond O'Brien as Gringoire. It's absolutely wild to see a skinny, youthful O'Brien playing an earnest, overenthusiastic, naive dork. I'm so used to seeing him as rugged, world-weary, frequently doomed middle-aged men in '50s and '60s crime thrillers and westerns. He's even an imposing gangster (though he also gets a littly silly) in the live-action-comic-strip rock'n'roll comedy The Girl Can't Help It (one of my favorite movies).

Dieterle is equally good with epic set pieces and intimate character-based scenes. He gives us so many great moments, including Gringoire's terrifying introduction to Clopin's underground kingdom of pickpockets and street people, Quasimodo's nighttime chase of Esmeralda, Frollo's cat-filled office (the otherwise villainous, manipulative, and cowardly man has a soft spot for animals), Quasimodo protecting the cathedral from invaders, and a scene-stealing goat (the GOAT of goats). He handles the large cast and its complex, competing interests and motivations with real skill and lots of style. This movie is right up there for me with my other Dieterle favorites The Devil and Daniel Webster (also sometimes titled All that Money Can Buy) and poker-scam film noir Dark City.

These early Hunchback of Notre Dame films are often included in lists of classic horror alongside the Universal monster movies, but horror is just one ingredient in a multi-genre stew that also includes melodrama, adventure, romance, and political intrigue. I have a wide, eclectic, and expansive definition of horror, and I love every kind of movie as long as it's made with personal feeling and style, so I have no problem inviting the hunchback to the party. If you want a straight-up classic horror movie, this may not be the right fit for the occasion, but I otherwise recommend it wholeheartedly.

Director William Dieterle, who fortunately left Germany for the U.S. before Hitler's ascent, fell victim to another fascist cultural moment when his friendship and support of many artists on the '50s Hollywood blacklist kept him from finding steady work. Dieterle moved back to Germany, where he mostly directed German television for the rest of his career. As we slow walk and occasionally sprint toward fascism in the U.S. in an atmosphere that is already poisonously anti-art, I can only shudder at what's to come. Maybe there are a few lessons in The Hunchback of Notre Dame's power-to-the-people and fight-smart-not-hard messages.