‘The Cat and the Canary: Masters of Cinema Edition’ Blu-ray movie review

The groundbreaking supernatural silent comedy that helped shape Universal Pictures’ gothic horror style debuts in Blu-ray format in The Cat and the Canary: Masters of Cinema Edition (Eureka Entertainment, not rated, 86 minutes, 1.33:1 aspect ratio, $39.95).

German Expressionism director Paul Leni (“The Man Who Laughs”) offered audiences a visual treat in 1927, when he adapted John Willard’s 1922 stage production about rich old Cyrus West dying in his Xanadu-sized Gothic mansion and leaving instructions that his will be read 20 years later.

That fateful night arrives, and lawyer Roger Crosby (Tully Marshall) returns to the mansion to read the will to West’s nephews Harry Blythe (Arthur Edmund Carewe), Charlie Wilder (Forrest Stanley) and Paul Jones (Creighton Hale); nieces Cecily Young (Gertrude Astor) and Annabelle West (Laura La Plante); and sister Susan (Flora Finch), as distrustful loyal maid Mammy Pleasant (Martha Mattox) watches with a sourpuss expression.

Anabelle, the most distant relative bearing the West name, gets the fortune if she is proved sane by Dr. Ira Lazar (Lucien Littlefield, looking like a distant cousin of Nosferatu) during his night visit.

The unlucky twist is that the group must spend the evening in the very spooky mansion, as demanded by a roaming asylum guard. He explains that an escaped lunatic nicknamed the Cat (he likes to shred his victims) is prowling around the grounds, and that trauma alone will test Annabelle’s mental endurance.

Leni pulled out all of the visual stops to define his haunted house motif, including elongated hallways, lots of cobwebs, shadows not following their owners, a disembodied hand with claw-like fingernails popping out when least expected, sliding bookcases, a dead body falling from a secret panel and billowing curtains.

His innovative visual magic offered the elderly West superimposed near giant medicinal bottles and a large trio of cats around him (as he was the canary); the phrase “gosh, what a spooking house” shakily crawling up from the bottom of the screen in orange lettering; a character with glowing eyes; and a skull subliminally floating on-screen near Paul Jones.

Additionally, the tinting of the film really sets the mood, with blue used for outdoors, sickly green for in the cellar and a striking orange and yellow for interiors of the mansion.

Despite boasting a new 4K digital restoration of the original negatives (supplied by the Museum of Modern Art), the downscaled high definition release has too many scratches and specks that should have been cleaned up in the digitizing process.

Still, considering its age, the final result is mostly impressive, and the vivid tinting and clarity make the imagery really pop on screen.

Best extras: Viewers get a bountiful exploration of the film starting with a pair of optional commentary tracks.

The first offers critic Kim Newman and writer Stephen Jones ebulliently chattering nonstop as they act as knowledgeable fans discussing the comedy, horror and murder mystery aspects of the movie; its legacy; Hollywood and its stars of the 1920s; and the various versions of the “The Cat and the Canary.”

Next, Kevin Lyons (editor of “The Encyclopedia of Fantastic Film and Television”) and author Jonathan Rigby joyously team up with a verbose film dissection, as the pair touch on its numerous abstract moments — the emphasis on hands, the clues to revealing the human malefactor, a deep dive into many of the cast credits, shot selections, and the journey of the heroic twit Paul.

Next, viewers can appreciate a 30-minute, scholarly visual essay by critic David Cairns and historian Fiona Watson that explores the dark house comedy thriller genre, touching on works such as “The Ghost Breaker,” “The Bat,” and then expand to dissect the movie even using narrated quotes by the director, crew and original reviewers.

Also, they look at Leni’s other movies, the various versions of “The Cat and the Canary” including a 1930 Spanish remake “The Cat’s Creep” and another with Bob Hope from 1939 up to the 1977 version as well as mentioning the numerous iterations of “The Bat” and “The Ghost Breaker.”

Next, a pair of interviews follows with a near giggly critic Pamela Hutchinson getting 13 minutes to focus on Leni’s resume, the director’s style and the cast, while critic Phuong Le gets nine minutes to offer a brief overview of the production, its visual style and credits of the crew and cast.

Finally, a pair of short, narrated excerpts from the original play cover the reading of the will and the introduction of the Cat. Oddest of all, extras include a look at a promotional magazine ad for Lucky Strikes cigarettes as endorsed by the director displayed with its copy read by a voice imitating Leni.

The slipcase packaging offers a reverse art sleeve with the movie poster artwork highlighted on one side and new art from Graham Humphreys on the other; and a 36-page color booklet featuring essays from historians Richard Combs, Craig Ian Mann and Imogen Sara Smith.