(1931)
Dir - James Whale
Overall: GREAT
Once producer Carl Laemmle Jr. and Universal Pictures hit surprising pay dirt in February of 1931 with Dracula, they followed suit eight months later with their next Gothic cinematic adaptation Frankenstein. The films are routinely linked together on account of their lingering influence, immediate commercial success, and the fact that each launched the careers of their runaway stars Béla Lugosi and Boris Karloff, respectively. There are other similarities between the two; Edward Van Sloan and Dwight Fry appear in each, neither film has a musical score, Garrett Fort was a credited screenwriter on both, they were each based on contemporary plays as much as on the original novels which informed those plays, and they both take significant liberties with their source material, streamlining it in the process for a roughly seventy-minute running time.
Yet Frankenstein is a unique beast from its predecessor. Technically superior in many respects, its director James Whale exerts a more focused vision than that which Dracula's Tod Browning had. There are less lulls in the pacing, more of a steady trajectory that does not resort to chamber drama in the manner in which Dracula did after its first act. The most significant difference though is the story itself. Dracula was a tale of the supernatural, featuring a remorseless and undead fiend who feasts on blood in order to prologue its vampiric lifespan. Frankenstein is about a man playing god, creating a creature that is more pitiful than terrifying. Dracula is sexy and spooky. Frankenstein is cautionary and tragic. While some of these attributes overlap between the two, they are singular films at their core. Bram Stoker and Mary Shelley were telling different tales after all, and so Universal was making different movies.
Enough about comparing two Universal films that each did mad business, made careers, and defined the horror genre for decades to come. The focus here is on Frankenstein, one of the most lauded and cherished works that the Golden Era of Hollywood ever produced, horror or otherwise. Accounts vary as to the specifics of its infancy. Originally, director Robert Florey and Universal's new big name Lugosi were attached, but Florey's vision for the Monster was worlds removed from what ended up on the screen. He wanted it to be a mindless killing brute, one that Lugosi allegedly had reservations about playing. Some say that the Hungarian thespian walked off the project, refusing the part because it had no dialog. Yet others have pointed out that it is unlikely that Lugosi, (a fresh star from Dracula yes, but hardly an actor who could make any demands or hold any clout in his profession in so short a time and without any follow-up hits under his belt), would have refused any work at this point in his career. Also, Florey was eventually let go from the project, and when Whale came on board, his vision was to not only make the Monster sympathetic, but also to cast Karloff in the lead, another unknown who like Lugosi got such a iconic part mostly from being in the right place at the right time.
Lugosi was hot off his success in the Hamilton Deane and John L. Balderston theater production of Dracula when he lobbied for the part after Universal executives were able to catch him on stage during the casting phase. Karloff was taking a tea break in Universal's commissary when Whale happened to spot him, correctly deducing that the unknown bit player's unusual looks and gaunt features would make an ideal reanimated corpse. Not only a reanimated corpse, but a reanimated corpse that would evoke affinity amongst the audience. Though Karloff was just shy of six feet tall, some thick boots and heavy padding would bulk him up considerably for the screen, not to mention Jack Pierce's striking make-up job which would add several inches to the actor's cranium. The effect was a towering creature that both served as an abomination against god, yet also pathetic and infantile. This latter aspect was in large part due to Karloff's portrayal, the actor having a gentle demeanor in real life that he was able to channel even underneath all that greasepaint, cotton, collodion, and gum which Pierce applied to his face.
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| A guy in deep concentration and another guy probably trying not to fall asleep while holding in his pee. |
Both Pierce's make-up design and Karloff's performance are fantastic, arguably representing the best work that either man ever did. The flat-topped, bolts-in-the-neck look of the Monster was birthed here, a look that has endured ever since, just as much as Lugosi's pale face and slicked back Dracula widow's peak has. In fact the make-up design was so specific that when Hammer decided to do their own version in Eastmancolor over two and a half decades later with
The Curse of Frankenstein, they deliberately went in as different a direction as possible as to not draw further comparison to the seminal film that they were updating. Christopher Lee looks great as the Creature and certainly
more grotesque, (which is fitting for Hammer's more nasty take on the material), but since Karloff had an eye-catching facial structure already, Pierce wisely retained as much of it as possible. This allowed for the actor to emote to the full extent of his ability, doing everything from growling, to yelping, to smiling, and all while acting terrified, confused, threatened, or void of any emotions depending on what the scene called for.
Any actor in a speechless role has that much harder of a time conveying what is meant to be conveyed, depending on that role of course. In Shelley's novel, the Monster eventually becomes self-educated and well-spoken on his route to understand his existence and eventually confront his maker in Frankenstein once more. In Universal's interpretation on the other hand, (which is considerably reduced in plot points to what happens in the book), there is no time for the Monster to receive such a full arch. Yet never does the film feel rushed. The full theme is still explored where Colin Clive's Henry Frankenstein experiences the horrific consequences of his prideful ambition, in effect creating a force of nature that he cannot discard so easily. He comes to the conclusion that he has made a terrible mistake even quicker in Shelley's source material, running out of the room as soon as the Monster animates. Here, Frankenstein boats in blasphemous glory that now he "Knows what it feels like to BE god!", delivering the movie's most famous line "It's alive, it's alive!" which he repeats in victorious triumph once his creation starts to move.
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| The original line "Suck it Jesus!" was omitted, probably for the best. |
In this way, the movie does something more radical than the book did, showcasing that its title character was going to bask in his glory for a bit before seeing the folly of his ways. Frankenstein only comes to the conclusion that he made a boo-boo once it becomes apparent that his creation is dangerous. There is a scene added, (one of many that Mel Brooks would wonderfully lampoon in
Young Frankenstein forty years later), where Dwight Frye's Fritz clumsily drops the brain of a dead intellect and instead grabs that of a dead criminal, something that his boss Frankenstein remains unaware of. This is an important detail, since it signifies that Henry abandons his creation thinking that he did everything in his power and egotistical genius to make the experiment work. If he knew that the Monster had a rotten brain, he may have simply tried it again with a "good" one. Instead, he agrees with those around him that the Monster cannot be controlled and should in effect be put down, a decision that he also comes to due to the severe exhaustion that he has just underwent in undergoing such an experiment.
The extent of training which would be required to make the Monster something that he could parade around in high society is something that Henry is neither capable of nor interested in. Furthermore, we never get the sense that he had the foresight to do such training to begin with. This is another crucial aspect to the story and one that Shelley's novel shares. It is Frankenstein's short-sighted pride that condemns him, his arrogance to control nature. So hyper-focused on the mere concept of revitalizing extinct human tissue, (possibly just to prove that he could do it), he never thought of what would then happen if he actually did do it. Though he does not flee in terror the second that the Monster wakes up, the movie Frankenstein still comes face to face with him and catches on quickly that he is in over his head.
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| "I already told you twice to sit down! Ah the hell with this, let's just kill him." - Henry Frankenstein. |
Those around Henry care about him enough as to not make him feel humiliated over his lack of prudence, and this allows him to return to his home, proceed with his wedding, and even lead the angry mob at the end against the very problem that he has unleashed, as opposed to that angry mob holding him responsible and demanding that he pay for his crime. In a sense then, Frankenstein gets away with his deed. He survives at the end, Fritz, Van Sloan's Dr. Waldman, and the drowned girl are the only deaths that the Monster causes which are given any significance, and Henry gets back to his privileged existence as the son of a Barron until Dr. Pretorius shows up and the events of The Bride of Frankenstein unfold. As always though, context is important, and there were no plans for a sequel when this film was made. Therefor we can look at its ending as definitive; a "happy" one more or less where Frankenstein has learned his lesson and everyone will sweep all of this nasty "He made a thing out of dead body parts and that thing went around murdering people" business under the rug.
While the religious allegories are in place both here and in the book, (Frankenstein going against the law of his own creator and in effect making his own creation that punishes him for such heresy), you can remove or ignore such a concept and strip it down to still make its point. The dead stay dead, the dead NEED to stay dead, and immortality cannot be attained no matter what noble intentions we delude ourselves into having. Science has its limits, and that is because there is a balance to things which cannot be recklessly tampered with. Frankenstein presents the outcome of such tampering, whether you have a spiritual belief in a "creator" or not. This helps the film endure as something that is not just a warning against defying Christian dogma, but also a warning against defying the practical merits of nature's confines. The world would get pretty overcrowded pretty fast if nobody died, and this does not even bring up the conundrum that if the only way to extend one's life was to revitalize the corpses of others with ideal body parts, then who makes the call as to what lives are expendable and which deserve reanimation?
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| How dare only some of us get to stand and walk around like a regular Rory Calhoun after death. |
As far as Whale's handling of the material is concerned, he would indulge more in his campy sense of humor with the proceeding The Bride of Frankenstein four years later, here delivering something more somber and menacing. The only lighthearted moments stem from Frederick Kerr's performances as Baron Papa Frankenstein, a type of "Now now, we will have none of that tomfoolery" curmudgeon who walks around everywhere like he runs the place and refuses to allow his maid staff the luxury of drinking the good booze during a toast since its quality would be "lost on them". There are few of these comedic moments though, (even fewer than in Browning's Dracula), Whale instead keeping things rooted to a forward trajectory plot wise as the lumbering presence of Karloff's Monster is always a scene or two away at most.
There are some deliberately jarring shots that Whale and cinematographer Arthur Edeson concoct, the latter having also been the director of photography on All Quiet on the Western Front, Casablanca, and The Maltese Falcon, to name but three more of the all time greatest films ever made. Our first glimpse of Karloff is done so as a tease, the actor walking backwards and slowly turning around, at which point the camera snaps into two close-ups which were likely designed to get some audible gasps from the audience. The laboratory equipment designed by Kenneth Strickfaden sparks with kinetic life before the camera during the creation scene, laboratory equipment that would also be utilized in every subsequent Frankenstein film for Universal, not to mention being replicated ad nauseam in gallons of movies since that have any sort of mad scientist angle. Our introduction to the secondary characters of Elizabeth, (Mae Clarke), and Victor, (John Boles), are likewise peculiar, Edeson beginning with a close-up of Clive's framed photo, then one of the maid, then one of Boles, then of Clarke, and all in rapid succession of each other before the scene opens up to an elaborate bedroom with a ceiling that looks as it if is twenty feet off the ground.
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| A bedroom that Henry would foolishly lock his fiance in during the Monster's rampage, while also foolishly leaving the windows wide open with no guards positioned. |
There are also several disorienting and artificial visuals in the finale. We have Clive and Karloff staring each other down in the windmill, the turning spokes framing them as if they are prisoner's to their fate. We have obvious matte paintings behind the mountains as the torch-bearing villagers hunt down the Monster, another motif that Universal and others would recycle to unintentional parody levels as the years went on. We have the frames sped up when the Monster collapses screaming under a wood pillar, and a lousy dummy being used as Clive's body is tossed from the soon-to-be-inflamed windmill. These shots are not flaws by any means, they instead enhance the film's unnatural nature. On that note, they provide a contrast to more soberly handled moments like the Monster awakening on the table just as Waldman is about to lethal inject him, the Monster experiencing a lone moment of tenderness while playing with Marilyn Harris before innocently throwing her into the lake, and Harris' father Michael Mark carrying his limp daughter's body through the square with a look of disbelieving shock on his face.
As an early talkie, the style was still melodrama, (as the performances alone easily exemplify), so curious shots that break verisimilitude, (juxtaposed with some of the film's more alarming or emotionally impactful moments presented matter-of-factly), are a welcomed addition to a story that deals with impossible things. This shows an understanding of the assignment on Whale's part, an assignment that he crafts with a combination of quirkiness and eeriness, just as the Monster itself is a conglomerate of horrifying and child-like. These contradictions render the movie just artificial enough to put us at a distance from, but also intimate enough to bring us in close. Like Dracula, the lack of a musical soundtrack is crucial to this. By contemporary cinematic standards, (standards which would be established only a few short years later), Frankenstein playing out sans a score makes it a more curious and in effect haunting work. It is no wonder then that Whale took a more comedic approach to its sequel The Bride of Frankenstein, which had near consistent music throughout. That film needed more over-the-top moments to complement its already exaggerated aesthetic, and in effect it is bizarre in its own right, just not chilling in the way that its predecessor was. Both films are masterpieces, but Universal's initial Frankenstein was the trailblazer.
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| A smoke break well-earned gentlemen. |
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