‘Doctor Jekyll’ Review: Eddie Izzard Beguiles in Hammer’s Latest House of Horrors

For decades, Hammer Studios was synonymous with monsters. And heaving breasts. And blood. Their classics “Curse of Frankenstein” and “Horror of Dracula” helped yank iconic movie monsters out of their spooky old castles and into a violent, sensual cinematic era (which also had castles). There was nothing wrong with these iconic boogeymen. They just needed a bit of updating. 

Hammer Studios closed its doors in 1979, but the icons persisted. Since the production company came back in the late 2000s, they’ve shied away from the classic creature pantheon, instead releasing what we can generously call a mixed-bag of paranormal potpourri. They’ve made at least one excellent film — Matt Reeves’ “Let Me In,” a surprisingly sturdy remake of Tomas Alfredson’s acclaimed “Let the Right One In” — followed by some respectable (and less-respectable) thrillers, and a smattering of haunted houses. 

Now, finally, they have unleashed “Doctor Jekyll,” an old-fashioned monster movie starring Eddie Izzard as the title character. Part throwback, part update and a little bit creaky, it’s all-in-all an excellent showcase of Izzard’s wonderful talents.

“Doctor Jekyll” stars Scott Chambers (“Winnie-the-Pooh: Blood and Honey 2”) as Rob Stevenson, an ex-con and recovering drug addict who wants to see his dying infant daughter. But he can’t until he proves he can hold down a job. Rob probably could have gone the low-effort route and packed some groceries or something, but his brother Ewan (Morgan Watkins) gets him a gig at the palatial estate of Dr. Nina Jekyll (Izzard), a disgraced pharmaceutical billionaire now living in seclusion.

Rob’s tasks are simple. He’s supposed to bring Nina her meals and make sure she takes her meds on time. I cannot emphasize this enough: He is supposed to make sure Nina takes her meds on time. Her last name isn’t “Jekyll” ironically. 

Almost every modern update of characters like Robert Louis Stevenson’s Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde takes place in a universe where the original book was never written. So we can forgive Rob for not noticing every red flag. Nina’s personality sometimes shifts on a dime, from a kindhearted eccentric to a judgmental bully. She has motion sensors planted all over the house and Rob has to make sure their batteries never die out. And what about Doctor Jekyll’s hard-nosed personal assistant, Sandra (Lindsay Duncan)? She hasn’t been seen for a while. Eh, it’s probably nothing.

Joe Stephenson (“Chicken”) directs “Doctor Jekyll” from a screenplay adapted by Dan Kelly-Mulhern, and they know damn well that the audience is way ahead of their hero. There’s nothing wrong with that, so long as they keep us engaged along the way. In the right filmmakers’ hands, this is a powerful form of suspense, forcing us to wait with decreasing patience for the protagonist to figure out they’re in danger. While Stephenson’s direction and Kelly-Mulhern’s script don’t represent the pinnacle of the genre, they effectively convey the film’s heavy foreboding and relatively light mystery.

Scott Chambers plays his well-intentioned everyman with a tragic past convincingly. But this is a monster movie, and the monster takes center stage. Izzard is one of the finest comedians of her generation, a natural communicator and storyteller whose acting career is weirdly thin on starring roles. She’s wonderful with the right material, and the contrast between Nina Jekyll’s empathy and Rachel Hyde’s malevolence is sensitive and convincing. Even when Hyde starts gesticulating like a ghoulish Rumpelstiltskin, it fits the material just fine. When Izzard has fun, we have fun. When Izzard suffers from heartbreak, our heart breaks with her.

Hammer Studios played with sexual identity in its monster movies before, often with fascinating results. Terence Fisher’s “Frankenstein Created Woman” found the mad doctor inserting the mind of a man inside the feminine body of his lover. Roy Ward Baker explored more explicitly queer themes in the classic lesbian supernatural romance “The Vampire Lovers” and the less well-remembered, but no less ahead of its time “Doctor Jekyll and Sister Hyde,” in which Jekyll changed into a woman and was overwhelmed by the experience.

Those previous films (perhaps unintentionally) used gender identity and sexual identity as a feverish allegory, equating perceived or literal monstrousness with living outside contemporarily accepted “norms.” They were bold for the time and still come across as impressively outré. But “Doctor Jekyll” wisely avoids such obvious literalizations. Izzard’s Jekyll is a trans woman and Rachel Hyde is a woman too. She’s not at war with her gender or confused, not even on a subconscious level. She’s a complete being, torn not by her identity but by her morals. 

Hyde is the businesswoman who manipulated her way to the top of the corporate ladder. Jekyll seems content to bond over busywork and eat cereal for the first time in decades. Watching Izzard chew cornflakes and react to every tactile sensation and chemically induced flavor is a joy to behold. One gets the serious impression that this may actually be an important moment in her life, a billionaire so out of touch that a spoonful of crappy mass-produced breakfast junk has somehow become a delicacy.

“Doctor Jekyll” takes a few odd turns towards the end, playing with the mythology of the monster and giving both Izzard and Chambers odd moments to play and difficult dialogue to shout. It’s not a terrifically eventful motion picture either, unfolding with an almost Corman-esque patience, which isn’t always a good thing. It might even be a little dull were it not for composer Blair Mowat (“Black Dog”), who knows exactly how to transform an otherwise quiet chamber room thriller into something thunderous and sinister; a textbook example of how a great score can elevate any material.

“Doctor Jekyll” is a return to form for Hammer. It may not capture the gore and sensuality of the studio’s earlier classics but it understands how to update an old monster for a new era. Izzard makes it classy, Mowat makes it scary, Stephenson makes it all fit together in a modest, but satisfyingly eerie harmony.

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