As the first horror movie to be filmed in glorious three-strip Technicolor, Dr. Cyclops is widely hailed as a pioneer. While its Oscar-nominated visual effects still pop 85 years on, leading man Albert Dekker is arguably just as revolutionary, with his multi-faceted performance as the villain essentially reinventing the mad scientist trope.
Dekker plays Dr. Alexander Thorkel, whose stocky frame, shaven head, and striking eyewear — “Now you can call me ‘cyclops’ because I have one good eye,” he helpfully explains early on — appears to have laid the blueprint for James Bond’s Blofeld (he even has a beloved cat, with the ingenious name of Satanus).
Unlike 007’s nemesis, though, Thorkel doesn’t have any plans to take over the world. In fact, in a surprisingly prescient move, he wants to save it. Unfortunately, as anyone unlucky enough to grace his Peruvian jungle lair soon finds out, his preferred means of reducing ecological damage is to shrink humans down to the size of a ruler.
The Devil-Doll had tackled similar territory just four years earlier, with Henry B. Walthall playing a French scientist exploring the concept of miniaturization to combat human overpopulation. But while it killed its genius off early, allowing Lionel Barrymore’s vengeful ex-con to take advantage of his contraption, Dr. Cyclops affords Thorkel almost the entirety of its 77 minutes to run amok. And it’s not just the source of all his powers — a mine that stores the “richest radium known to man” — that he exploits.
The tale begins when a crack team of American biologists travels thousands of miles on the assumption they’ll be assisting with a major scientific discovery. In an amusing display of trolling, however, they learn that Thorkel has only invited them for their eyeballs, his impaired vision restricting his ability to assess a microscopic specimen. Understandably enraged that their time and experience have been wasted, they ignore Thorkel’s requests to leave and insist on making a more valuable contribution to their host’s research.
Unsurprisingly, the dastardly Thorkel doesn’t want any company. And as the biologists begin to question both his sanity and his scientific intentions, not to mention take credit for his work (upon “discovering” a pygmy-sized pig, egotistical group leader Dr. Charles Bullfinch, played by It’s A Wonderful Life’s Charles Halton, decides to name it in his own honor), the evildoer charms them into his radiation chamber and zaps them into miniatures.
It’s here where Dr. Cyclops threatens to veer into Honey, I Shrunk The Kids-esque comedy. The newly-little people struggle to get to grips with everyday basics like staircases and door handles, while also trying to dodge critters that have become gargantuan threats to their lives. Thankfully, director Ernest B. Schoedsack — no stranger to such big/little divides, having helmed the original King Kong and its rushed sequel — soon gets things back on track when, after discovering his victims’ pocket-sized states won’t be everlasting, Thorkel turns murderous. Bullfinch is the first to suffer at his hands, suffocated with a cloth that normally wouldn’t even cover his nostrils.
Dekker, whose career at this point had been spent more on the Broadway stage than the silver screen, doesn't resort to the usual theatrical antics here. Other than a brief paranoid outburst for which he offers a convincing apology, the doctor’s default manner is calm and composed, which only makes his homicidal behavior more chilling. In fact, Thorkel barely bats an eyelid when snuffing out Bullfinch. “As you and your fellows develop toward normal size, you will interfere with my work, and that is something I cannot permit,” he coldly reasons.
Dekker would go on to break bad in noirs The Killers and Kiss Me Deadly and, most famously, Sam Peckinpah’s western The Wild Bunch, where he displayed erratic behavior that suggested playing Thorkel wasn’t much of a stretch (he was reportedly accompanied on location by a 13-year-old he claimed to be his wife). He was eventually blacklisted during the McCarthy era and died in a bizarre hotel room accident ruled as autoerotic asphyxiation.
Dekker would never better his breakthrough, a surprisingly versatile role that allowed him to charm the pants off his unwanted guests, ooze quiet menace, and throw just the right amount of shade. “I am not interested in your opinion on cell structure,” he tells replacement geologist Bill (Thomas Coley) in a manner sassy enough to make Ru Paul proud.
Thorkel is at his most terrifying, however, when he fully leans into his megalomania. “But what you are doing is mad,” notes early fodder Dr. Mendoza (Paul Fix). “It is diabolic! You are tampering with powers reserved to God.” Completely unapologetic, his boss simply responds, “That is good... That is just what I am doing.”
The dastardly doctor does eventually get his comeuppance, of course, although not via the literal Chekhov’s gun his victims desperately try to trigger in his direction. Instead, he comes unstuck during a lengthy cat-and-mouse chase when a broken wooden plank sends him hurtling down the miracle mineshaft. Poetic justice, but it’s a shame Thorkel didn’t live to cast his weak eyes toward at least one more twisted crusade.
