It's sometimes said that director Schoedsack peaked with his best-known film, King Kong; but Dr. Cyclops showcases even better than Kong Schoedsack's core gift: his ability to use special effects to portray human drama in new dimensions.

There are some interesting parallels. A scene in which Thorkel grasps Bulfinch, eyeing him dispassionately, is strongly reminiscent of Fay Wray in Kong's clutches seven years earlier. But this scene runs deeper: No innocent in the hands of a rampaging animal, Bulfinch is viewed with exactly the same regard that he himself would have given a rat in his own laboratory. And though Thorkel looks like another Dr. Moreau, obsessively plotting biological domination from his isolated laboratory, he's both less obviously twisted and more opaque: The audience is given few clues to what underlies Thorkel's obsession, which was certainly not the case with Moreau. Bulfinch is nonetheless able to articulate Thorkel's flaw: Like Cyclops of mythology, he thinks size and strength are all. This Cyclops, however, is as clever as his Ulysses.

The effects, crucial after all to the story, are totally believable. The superimpositions and oversized sets blend seamlessly into the surrounding film. Two sequences stand out. In one, Thorkel reaches in front of a miniaturized horse; it looks quite natural. In the other, Thorkel has captured Bulfinch in a net; as he carries the net into the house, the little Bulfinch struggles madly, kicking his feet impotently against the mesh.

The two key performances are also excellent. Dekker plays Thorkel with a wry sanity than shows him to be both complex and chilling. The incredulous and pedantic Bulfinch might have seemed ridiculous, but Halton imbues him with great strength of character. Far from the mad-scientist terror flick it appears to be, Dr. Cyclops is an intriguing and satisfying story about science, ethics, and human resourcefulness.