I was surprised how uproarious this comedic turn in Universal's invisibility series is (much better than the 1951 Abbott and Costello film), and it's especially rewarding after reading the novel by Wells and seeing a few reworkings of it. The third installment in the studio's multi-picture deal for the rights to the concept, "The Invisible Woman" can't be classified in the horror genre as with its dramatic, if occasionally campy, predecessors, "The Invisible Man" (1933) and "The Invisible Man Returns" (1940), and it doesn't really have anything to do with the book. The science fiction is a bit different here, too, involving a screen and other gizmos in the vein of the 1931 "Frankenstein," and the invisibility is temporary and affected by alcohol. Once again, John P. Fulton's Oscar-nominated traveling mattes for the transparency visual effects are outstanding for their time. More vital, however, is the light touch--even goofy--of a scenario involving a frequently stripping and mostly naked, albeit invisible, woman surrounded by men for most of the runtime. John Barrymore's professor is a hoot of an old coot, and Virginia Bruce does an admirable job following in the footsteps of her invisible predecessors Claude Rains and Vincent Price--no easy task when one can't see the footsteps.
The slapstick is excessive, but that's forgivable in such a madcap sci-fi romp, and some of the jokes are so obvious that they're kind of bad in a good way. The see/sì joke, for instance, on the stereotypical mobster's over-used exclamation of "see" while talking to a Palermitani replying "sì" in a movie about what we see through. And there's also the use of pussycats instead of the dogs in the male-versions from the novel to the prior 1940 film in the series--the Invisible Woman's name is even "Kitty," which may not even be worse than the romantic male lead and proclaimed "playboy's" name, "Dick." Best of all is that the film's centering on an invisible woman both calls for the male gaze, as the characters and spectator look for the effect and await the appearances of her body, and rejects that gaze when she's unseen. You can't objectify what you can't see, right? Even though Dick does put a lamp shade on Kitty at one point, and the guys almost get a bit grabby at times in their searches for the transparent nudist. A fashion model, Kitty is enthusiastic about the Professor's offer of invisibility, which as soon as she gets it, she runs off to give her boss his just desserts for mistreating the models, while she decries the gaze of leering men buyers and the snooty women buyers. Plus, the narrative's focus is on Kitty's desire and active agency in wooing Dick, reversing the usual Hollywood dichotomy of active males and passive females.
I wonder how much more titillation there'd be had this been a pre-Code production or if it were remade today.
The slapstick is excessive, but that's forgivable in such a madcap sci-fi romp, and some of the jokes are so obvious that they're kind of bad in a good way. The see/sì joke, for instance, on the stereotypical mobster's over-used exclamation of "see" while talking to a Palermitani replying "sì" in a movie about what we see through. And there's also the use of pussycats instead of the dogs in the male-versions from the novel to the prior 1940 film in the series--the Invisible Woman's name is even "Kitty," which may not even be worse than the romantic male lead and proclaimed "playboy's" name, "Dick." Best of all is that the film's centering on an invisible woman both calls for the male gaze, as the characters and spectator look for the effect and await the appearances of her body, and rejects that gaze when she's unseen. You can't objectify what you can't see, right? Even though Dick does put a lamp shade on Kitty at one point, and the guys almost get a bit grabby at times in their searches for the transparent nudist. A fashion model, Kitty is enthusiastic about the Professor's offer of invisibility, which as soon as she gets it, she runs off to give her boss his just desserts for mistreating the models, while she decries the gaze of leering men buyers and the snooty women buyers. Plus, the narrative's focus is on Kitty's desire and active agency in wooing Dick, reversing the usual Hollywood dichotomy of active males and passive females.
I wonder how much more titillation there'd be had this been a pre-Code production or if it were remade today.