Long before horror comedies became a reliable Hollywood formula, German political refugee Paul Leni figured out how to make audiences scream and laugh in the same breath. His 1927 silent film adaptation of John Willard‘s Broadway hit didn’t just launch the “old dark house” genre. It essentially wrote the playbook filmmakers would follow for the next three decades.

The setup is pure, oh so very juicy, pulp. Twenty years after eccentric millionaire Cyrus West’s death, his greedy relatives gather at his crumbling Hudson River mansion for a midnight reading of his will. Niece Annabelle West (Laura La Plante) inherits everything (including some choice diamonds), but there’s a catch: she must be declared sane by morning. When word arrives that a lunatic called “The Cat” has escaped from a nearby asylum, the night turns deadly. Creeping hands emerge from secret passages. Bodies vanish. And Annabelle realizes she’s become exactly what her uncle was — a canary surrounded by cats.

What makes Leni’s approach so effective is how he brought German Expressionism to American audiences without the off-putting severity of something like the harsh frights of The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. Gilbert Warrenton’s camera prowls through corridors lined with curtains that seem to breathe in the cobwebs. Dreamy superimpositions and dramatic shadows create an atmosphere that influenced everything from James Whale’s The Old Dark House to the Euro-horror films of the 1960s. Even the intertitles get in on the act — text appears letter by letter with anxious hesitation, then dissolves into wisps of mist. Meanwhile, La Plante anchors the chaos with a perfromance of wide-eyed vulnerability. As the male lead, Creighton Hale provides comic relief that never undercuts the genuine scares.

On the technical side, KL Studio Classics’ 4K Ultra HD presentation looks remarkable for a 98-year-old film. Sourced from a new restoration of original nitrate prints by Photoplay Productions, the image benefits enormously from HDR. The contrast is striking — the whites of La Plante’s terrified eyes practically glow. Some scenes show fine scratch marks, and the main titles appear slightly softer than in previous releases I’ve seen. However, these are minor quibbles for a picture this old. Neil Brand‘s orchestral score (a restoration of Hugo Riesenfeld‘s uncredited work) performed by The City of Prague Philharmonic strikes a smart balance between suspense and playfulness.

The real treasures, though, are the two commentaries. David Del Valle and Randy Haberkamp offer a friendly introduction to 1920s horror. Anthony Slide, however, delivers a massively entertaining track for cinephiles. A veteran film historian, Slide once screened this very film for La Plante at his home and offers a most personal commentary. He connects the dots between Leni’s style and Caligari, pointing out the kind of insight you can’t pick up from IMDb trivia pages. A 1925 Leni short, Rebus-Film No. 1, rounds out the package.

For silent film devotees, this release is essential. For everyone else, it’s a chance to see where so many horror conventions began…and were done spectacularly well. This is a film that has been copied and remade several times throughout the years.  It’s best to always start with the original, though, because it sets the bar so high.