The Amazing Transparent Man
Reviewed by Edward Larsen Terkelsen

USA, NR, 57 m, 1960
Directed by Edgar G. Ulmer. Stars Douglas Kennedy, James Griffith, Marguerite Chapman, et al. 

If I was prone to making the kind of obvious, groan-inducing cracks that many of my fellow reviewers spend untold hours thinking up, I might declare that The Amazing Transparent Man isn’t particularly amazing. Or I might joke that the film is a painfully transparent attempt to pilfer a few bucks from Universal’s (long dormant) Invisible Man cash cow. But you probably follow my column for a bit more wit and imagination, eh? As it is, The Amazing Transparent Man is an almost passable B-picture—a diverting quickie that shrewdly blends sci-fi inanities with the rudiments of film noir. Douglas Kennedy plays Joey Faust (!), a notorious safecracker who gets sprung from the Texas State Penitentiary by a shadowy figure of, uh, major influence. He’s escorted to freedom in a sharp Cadillac convertible by a buxom, dark-haired moll named Laura Matson (Marguerite Chapman), and she’s keeping her lips buttoned as to why Faust was untied from custody until they reach their destination. The escape scene that opens the picture is shot day for night, which is a process I generally loathe, and The Amazing Transparent Man reminds me why: At one point during this supposedly late night break out, you can see the sun reflecting off of the getaway car’s windshield. 

After conning their way through a police roadblock, Laura and Faust come to a three-story manor in the middle of Bumfuck Egypt. (With its octagonal tower and wraparound porch, this is the kind of Victorian spread I’d like to live in one day.) The home belongs to rogue Major (now you should get the pun from the preceding paragraph) Paul Krenner (James Griffith), a former spy who wants Faust to help him take over the world or something. In the laboratory upstairs (which strikes me as a queer place to house all that hazardous equipment), Dr. Peter Ulof (Ivan Triesault, who played Professor Göteborg in Journey to the Center of the Earth) has been working indefatigably to perfect an invisibility ray. (The poor bastard has no choice, really: Krenner is able to ensure Ulof’s loyalty by holding his young daughter, Maria, hostage.) Krenner gives Faust a preview of what he has in store for him by demonstrating the ray’s power on a cute ‘n’ cuddly guinea pig. A switch is thrown, sparks fly, and the critter’s fur begins to disappear, followed by its muscles, and finally its bones. (Will the little thing run away and use its new clear coat to liberate all the caged cavies from the local pet store? No, but that might’ve made for a far more interesting film.) Krenner’s mission for Faust is to undergo the same beam and then use his translucent form to infiltrate key government (and private) installations and raid their vaults for plutonium. The ill-gotten stuff will be used to fuel an even more potent form of Ulof’s discovery and realize Krenner’s dream of an invisible army, which he plans on selling to whatever country is interested for billions of dollars.  

Of course, this being film noir, Krenner’s girlfriend turns out to be a double-dealing cooz, and it doesn’t take much for Faust to get her to start thinking about screwing over her old man. When Kenner catches wind of this, he sets Laura straight with a taste of his palm, but, of course, this only secretly feeds her desire to hook up with Faust. (When will these abusive louts ever learn?) Faust’s scheme involves using the cloak of invisibility to knock over a string of banks, which will surely garner him more dough than stealing radioactive materials for his despot wannabe of a boss. The latter gig will yield him only $1000, an admittedly paltry sum given the risks he’ll be taking, but he plays along to at least get a sense of the ray’s reliability. 

After Faust goes under the ray, he decides to use his new power to negotiate a better deal with Krenner. Naturally, being invisible in a brawl gives him an upper hand, so to speak, so he pummels and strangles Krenner until the mad major concedes to a paycheck of twenty-five grand. Then it’s off to an unidentified stronghold to nab some plutonium.

The first robbery has been built up so much that we can’t help but be disappointed by its unimaginative execution. (The dime store SPFX don’t help matters either.) Faust enfeebles the alarm system, makes his way past an aged guard, and slinks down a long corridor to the vault of radioactive goodies. When he cracks the combination lock, another guard rushes over to see how in the hell the safe’s door opened by itself, which is Faust’s cue to beat the rent-a-cop stupid with his invisible mitts. He then grabs a container of “X-13” (whatever the hell that is), and slips into a fade out.  

While en route to the next job, Faust decides to knock off a bank and then go his own way. (He’s setting his sights on Mexico.) Hilarity ensues when his head rematerializes just as he’s trotting out of a financial institution with a big bag of cash. It seems ol’ Doc Ulof’s invisibility treatment isn’t exactly stable, and Faust keeps disappearing and reappearing without warning. Truth be told, the effects are pretty good despite the picture’s piddling budget. (Though I don’t mind cheap-looking effects so long as they’re imaginative. Why should hardhearted studios with unrestricted coffers be the only ones to make this kind of picture anyway?)  

Whatever the problems are with The Amazing Transparent Man (and there are many), director Edgar G. Ulmer shouldn’t be faulted; he does what he can with Jack Lewis’s threadbare script. (Ulmer’s work here becomes even more impressive when you learn he shot the picture back to back with The Time Barrier in only two weeks.) The photography by Meredith M. Nicholson (who went on to lens episodes of “Batman” and “M*A*S*H”) is hard and direct, an approach suitable to the genre, though I would’ve preferred more shadows and smoke. Also worthy of notice is the jazzy score by Darrell Calker. A much sought after composer back in the day, Calker came up with the music for Forbidden Jungle and The Flying Saucer, as well as a great number of animated shorts including Woody Dines Out, Wacky Quacky and Pickled Puss.  

The biggest problem with The Amazing Transparent Man (which runs just shy of an hour) is that the titular character is written without a shred of pathos. He’s a feral, self-seeking jerk, and we don’t feel the least bit sad when the doctor tells him that he’ll soon depart this life on account of radiation poisoning. But Kennedy, who looks like a cross between Fred MacMurray and Morton Downey, Jr., does his job well, and there comes a moment (although it’s a little too late) when Faust reaches for redemption. Ulof pleads with him to rescue Maria from Krenner’s broom closet, as well as doing the brotherhood of man right by obstructing Krenner’s bid for world domination. (But would Faust have even considered performing these acts of heroism had he not just been handed a death sentence? Get real.) The climactic fight between Faust and Krenner in the attic lab results in a lot of stuff getting broken and eventually a fire that ignites the X-13, sending a hideous mushroom cloud high enough to singe the Lord’s beard. (I was reminded of a scene in Ed Wood when a potential investor for Bride of the Monster tells Eddie that he’ll back him provided the movie ends with “a big explosion—sky full o’ smoke.”)  

The picture’s finish is nothing if not odd. While sitting amongst the fallout, Ulof ponders if he should allow for the key to invisibility to die with Krenner and Faust. Unable to make up his mind, Ulof turns to the camera and asks the audience, “What would you do?” Given the unswerving weightiness of the film up until this point, I found it weird that the filmmakers would end with a bit that knocked down the fourth wall à la The Ape Man. But, hey, that’s just my opinion. What do you think?

October 30, 2007

© Copyright 2007 by Edward Larsen Terkelsen. All rights reserved.