Isn’t this the prototypical damsel-in-distress image?
Seriously, it strokes my sweet spot: the leering, Lon Chaney Jr.-as-Phantom of the Opera-like face of the villain and his floridly brandished pocket watch, and the wide-eyed look of the blonde, which is not so much terror as a mesmerized disgust. (The man tied up behind her seems to show more fear. ) And oh, what a terrible fate, sealed up naked together in a time capsule destined to be opened 2,000 centuries hence!
And yet, it makes no sense. They are going to be dropped, but there’s no indication of where, and wouldn’t such a drop break the glass of the tube? Why does the mad scientist wear a red slicker? And what is he doing with that trowel? They are in a tube, not a mausoleum.