Val Lutton and the gilded boy

I was about a half hour into the 1942 horror classic Cat People last night, when I decided to take a break and do a little research into the film’s Russian-born producer, Val Lewton. Well, one thing led to another, and I fell asleep listening to episode number three of Karina Longworth’s brilliant podcast, You Must Remember This, which is all about Lewton’s struggle within the Hollywood studio system to create b-movies with meaning. [At the beginning of his career as a movie producer, RKO would essentially give Lewton a title that had tested well with focus groups, instructing him to deliver 70 minutes of film which they could then market under that name, and it was his job to come up with an idea, get a script written, secure the actors and crew, and get the whole thing shot, all within about four months’ time.] Anyway, it was through Longworth’s podcast that I learned about this scene in Lewton’s 1946 film Bedlam, which it probably one of the darkest things I’ve ever seen.

In the above scene, Master George Sims (played by Boris Karloff), entertains visitors at the mental asylum he operates by having his “loonies” put on a show for them. During the performance, a mentally ill young man covered head-to-toe in gold paint, is introduced to the party-goers as “The Golden Age of Reason,” and forced to read a speech written by Sims as he slowly suffocates to death from skin asphyxiation (like the character of Jill Masterson in Goldfinger). Lewton, as I’ve since read, based Sims’ character on John Monro, the infamous head physician at England’s Bethlem Royal Hospital, who, up until 1770, allowed paying visitors to observe, laugh at, and even prod the mentally ill patients in his care… The following clip comes from the genealogy site Finding My Past.

…The Mornos demonstrated a galling lack of shame regarding their practices, even inviting members of the public – for a fee – to explore the hospital during the evening and poke fun at the unfortunate inmates, who were often chained inside their tiny rooms. If the subject wasn’t being entertaining enough, observers prodded them with sticks until they were.

The admission price for this sport comprised a significant proportion of the hospital’s overall budget. Thrift was the watchword at Bethlem, and food or other donations were often sold, leaving patients starving. The hospital was also used as a means of corrupt social control, and for the right price people could have critics put away, or husbands could lock up their wives…

I’m not sure why I’m sharing this now. God knows there’s enough darkness in the world today. Sometimes, though, I just find myself on one of these tangents, and feel compelled to share. And I’m very much enjoying learning about Lewton, and how he fought the studio system to address things like mental health reform within the framework that was given him, which was that of b-movie horror.

What’s more, when you head down these rabbit holes, you never know what you’ll find… Right now, reading about Glen Vernon, the actor who played “the gilded boy,” I just discovered that he also appears, if only for a split second, in the RKO film It’s a Wonderful Life.

That’s Vernon’s photo in the picture frame above, being stared at by Mr. Gower, the pharmacist who, just moments later, would strike the young George Bailey, causing him to go deaf in one ear. [Gower, as you’ll recall, had just received news that his son Robert, the young man in the photo, had died of influenza.]

Sadly, I don’t have any deep insight on the plight of the gilded boy. I’m sure there’s much to be said, but, having watched this scene four or five times now, I’m just left with overwhelming sadness. And I’m at a total loss as to what to say, or how to tie it all back to the contemporary world… My apologies.