James Whale’s brilliant BRIDE OF FRANKENSTEIN is one of those rare occasions where the sequel is better than the original… and since the original 1931 FRANKENSTEIN is one of the horror genre’s greatest films, that’s saying a lot! Whale’s trademark blend of horror and black humor reached their zenith in BRIDE, and though Whale would make ten more films before retiring from Hollywood moviemaking in 1941, this was his last in the realm of the macabre. It turned out to be his best.
Mary Shelley’s got a story to tell…
William Hurlbut’s screenplay start with a prologue set during the proverbial dark and stormy night, with Mary Shelly (Elsa Lanchester ), Percy Bysshe Shelley (Douglas Walton), and Lord Byron (Gavin Gordon ) discussing Mary’s shocking novel “Frankenstein” as clips from the 1931 film are shown. Then Mary tells them there’s more to the story, and we pick up…
Two hundred years ago, Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley unleashed her novel FRANKENSTEIN upon an unsuspecting world. The ghastly story of a “Modern Prometheus” who dared to play God and his unholy creation shocked readers in 1818, and over the past two centuries has been adapted into stage plays, radio dramas, television programs, comic books, and the movies, most notably James Whale’s seminal 1931 FRANKENSTEIN, featuring not only a star-making performance by Boris Karloff as the Creature, but ahead of its time filmmaking from Whale.
Director James Whale and his star
James Whale had directed only two films before FRANKENSTEIN (JOURNEY’S END and WATERLOO BRIDGE), but the former stage director certainly adapted quickly to the new medium of talking pictures. The story had been made three times for the silent screen, but the new sound technology adds so much to the overall eeriness of the film’s atmosphere. Whale was obviously influenced by…
Today’s horror scene that I love comes from the 1931 Universal classic, Frankenstein!
Though it’s been parodied to death and often used out of context (for example, a few years ago, it was used in a freaking car commercial), the “It’s Alive!” scene from Frankenstein is still a classic piece of horror history. Colin Clive is often unfairly criticized for going overboard in this scene but let’s be honest here: if you ever reanimated a corpse, you’d probably get pretty damn excited about it.
1935‘s The Bride of Frankenstein is usually described as being a sequel to Frankenstein, but I think it would be better to call it a continuation. In much the same way that all modern YA adaptations seem to be split into two parts, Universal split Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein into two separate films. The bare basics of The Bride of Frankenstein‘s plot — the monster learns to talk and demands that his creator build him a mate — can all be found in the original novel.
(Of course, in the original novel, the monster somehow learns how to speaks like an Oxford grad and Dr. Frankenstein destroys the female monster before bringing her to life. The monster responds by killing Elizabeth. Seriously, Frankenstein is a dark book.)
Bride of Frankenstein features one of my favorite openings of all time. Lord Byron (Gavin Gordon) and Percy Bysshe Shelley (Douglas Walton) are praising Mary Shelley (Elsa Lanchester) and the story that she’s told about how a dedicated scientist played God and created life. Mary informs them that she’s not finished and then proceeds to tell them the rest of the story. It’s a great opening because it lets us know that the rest of what we’re seeing is taking place directly inside of Mary’s mind. It frees the film from the constraints of realism and allows director James Whale to fully indulge his every whim, no matter how bizarre. When you’re inside someone else’s imagination, anything can happen and that’s certainly the feeling that you get as you watch The Bride of Frankenstein.
The Bride of Frankenstein opens with that burning windmill and a wounded Henry Frankenstein (Colin Clive) being carried back to his wife, Elizabeth (Valerie Hobson, replacing Mae Clarke). Gone is the original film’s coda, in which Elizabeth announces that she’s pregnant. And why shouldn’t it be gone? It felt awkward in the first movie and, like any good writer, Mary Shelley is fixing her story as she goes along.
While Henry is recovering, he is approached by a former mentor, Dr. Pretorious (Ernest Thesiger). Dr. Pretorious is undoubtedly an eccentric and definitely a little bit crazy but he believes in Frankenstein’s work. In fact, Dr. Pretorious has even created life on his own! He’s created a bunch of tiny people that he keeps in several glass jars. They’re impressive but, sadly, they’ll never conquer the world. Pretorious wants Frankenstein to, once again, work with him to create life. As Pretorious explains it, it’s time to usher in a new age of “God and monsters!”
(Interestingly enough, one of Pretorious’s henchmen is played by Dwight Frye, who previously played Frankenstein’s henchman, Fritz, in the first film. Frye dies in both films. Reportedly, Universal bestowed upon him the nickname, “The Man of a Thousand Deaths.” It can perhaps be argued that Dwight Frye was both the Steve Buscemi and the Giovanni Lombardo Radice of Universal horror.)
Meanwhile, the monster (Boris Karloff, credited with just his last name because, just four years after Frankenstein and the Mummy, he was already an icon) has survived the burning windmill. He’s lonely, he’s afraid, and he actually kills more people in The Bride of Frankenstein than he did in Frankenstein. And yet, he’s still the film’s most sympathetic character. With everyone constantly trying to kill him, you can understand why the monster is quick to attack every human being that he sees. He’s almost like a dog who, after years of abuse, automatically growls and bears his teeth at anyone that he sees.
And yet, the monster does eventually find a friend. A blind hermit (O.P. Heggie) invites the monster into his own home. (Of course, the hermit does not know who the monster is. He just assumes that monster is a normal man who does not know how to speak.) As time passes, the hermit teaches the monster how to say a few words and also tells the monster that there is nothing worse than being lonely. The monster learns that “Friend good.” The monster even learns how to smoke a cigar and Heggie and Karloff play these roles with such warmth (Bride of Frankenstein is not only the film where the Monster learns to talk, it’s also the one where he learns to smile) that you really start to dread the inevitable scene where everything goes wrong.
And that scene does arrive. Two hunters stop by the hermit’s shack and immediately attack the Monster. The Monster flees. The shack burns down. The hermit is led away from his only friend, apparently destined to be lonely once again.
Eventually, of course, the Monster does get his bride. The Bride is such an iconic character that it’s easy to forget that she only appears in the final ten minutes of the film. Elsa Lanchester plays both Mary and the Bride. She screams when she sees the Monster. “We belong dead,” the Monster replies and my heart breaks a little every time.
So, which is better? Frankenstein or The Bride of Frankenstein? I don’t think it’s necessary to choose one or the other. To use a metaphor that might be appreciated by Henry and Dr. Petorious, Frankenstein is the brain while The Bride of Frankenstein is the heart. They’re two good films that, when watched together, form one great film.
No, not Victor von Frankenstein, though he certainly suffered greatly for playing God. How much he suffered depends on which version of the story you see or read. If you’ve read the book, you know that Victor lost his family, his love, his mentor, his best friend, and eventually his own life. Victor is usually a bit more resilient in the films. For instance, if you go by what we’ve seen in the Hammer films, Baron Frankenstein was pretty much indestructible. The only thing he lost was his sanity, sacrificed as he continually insisted on making the same mistake over and over again.
And when I say “Pity poor Frankenstein,” I’m not referring to the monster either, though he certainly deserves some sympathy as well. The monster never asked to be brought to life. He may have destroyed castles and killed people and tossed little girls into a lake but Frankenstein’s Monster rarely seemed to mean any harm. He was just scared, confused, and often abused.
Instead, when I say pity poor Frankenstein, I’m referring to the 1931 film. It’s a classic horror film, one that, after 85 years, still holds up remarkably well. It’s probably the best directed of all the Universal horror films, with James Whale bringing his own dark wit and idiosyncratic style to the film. As was often the case with films of the era, some of the performances are better than others but no one can find fault with Boris Karloff’s definitive portrayal of Frankenstein’s monster.
And yet, for a lot of filmgoers, Frankenstein will always just be that movie where Colin Clive rants, “It’s alive! IT’S ALIVE!” That scene is justifiably famous but it always bothers me when it shows up as an isolated clip, devoid of context. I’ve seen it used in documentaries. I’ve seen it used on snarky news programs where it’s almost always used to poke fun at someone. I’ve even seen it used in a car commercial.
You’ve seen it too. It’s one of those scenes that everyone has seen, regardless of whether or not they’ve sat through the entire movie:
When you watch this scene without any context, it’s easy to smirk. You might assume that the entire film is Colin Clive ranting and Dwight Frye snorting. It’s only after you’ve seen the entire film that you appreciate Clive’s performance. Throughout the entire first part of the film, Colin Clive plays Henry Frankenstein as being unstable but also rather withdrawn. He’s almost vampiric, hiding inside of his laboratory all day and only coming out at night to rob graves with the hunchbacked Fritz (Dwight Frye). He’s almost a recluse, which is why his fiancée, Elizabeth (Mae Clarke) asks his best friend, Victor (John Boles), and his mentor, Dr. Waldman (Edward Van Sloan, who also played Van Helsing in Dracula) to check in on him.
When the monster does move its hand and Clive shouts, “It’s alive!,” it’s the first sign of true emotion that Frankenstein has shown through the entire film. He’s spent a lifetime dreaming of playing God and, now that he has, it overwhelms his mind. Much like poor Ralph Norton in The Mummy, Clive sees something that defies all reason and he has a breakdown.
I have to admit that, for me, the first third of the film drags. That may not have been as much of a problem in 1931, when audiences were seeing the story for the first time and didn’t already know what was going to happen. In 1931, the slow start undoubtedly helped to build up suspense. But, when seen today, there is a temptation to say, “Get on with it!”
(Of course, I tend to say that with all Frankenstein movies, because I’m impatient and there always seems to be an endless number of scenes people digging graves and stealing brains until we finally get to the good part. If anything, the 1931 Frankenstein doesn’t take as long to get going as some of the later Hammer films, many of which treated the monster as almost an afterthought.)
Fortunately, Frankenstein does get on with it. When the monster finally comes to life and Colin Clive has his moment of divine madness (“This is what it feels like to be God!”), the film shifts in tone. If anything it becomes a bit of a dark comedy. Henry (who is noticeably more subdued after his outburst, a bit like a drug addict who is only now starting to come down after being awake for a week) and his friends now have to not only hide the monster but try to figure out how to deal with it. Every few minutes, it seems like another villager or Frankenstein relative is dropping by the castle. Having created life, Henry now has no idea what to do with it. Being God isn’t as easy as it looks. Having created life, all Henry can now do is keep the doors locked and attempt to go back to living a relatively normal life. In this case, that means preparing for his wedding.
It’s not until the sadistic Fritz torments the frightened monster with a torch that this horror classic truly becomes a horror film. And it’s significant that the true monster here is not Frankenstein’s Monster but instead Fritz. When the monster kills Fritz, he does it out of self-defense. When he strangles Dr. Waldman, it’s because Waldman was about to cut into him with scapel.
And then there’s the little girl. How this scene must have shocked audiences in 1931! It’s still shocking today, because we’re not used to children dying in movies, not even horror movies. Of course, the monster doesn’t mean to hurt the girl. The girl is the first person to show the monster any sort of kindness. It’s just that the monster doesn’t understand that the girl won’t float like the flowers.
The sequence where the girl’s father carries her body into the town square is perhaps one of the most devastating ever filmed. Not only does the father’s grief contrast with the happiness of the villagers but it also contrasts with the attitude of Henry and Elizabeth who are busy preparing from their wedding, ignorant of what Henry’s creation has done.
Or, at least, they are until the monster confronts Elizabeth in her bedroom.
I love that dress.
It all ends, of course, with a confrontation between Henry and his monster and a windmill being set aflame. There’s also a happy coda that, in the best tradition of horror, feels a bit tacked on. Fortunately, those of us who know our film history know that the story didn’t end with this film. It continued with The Bride of Frankenstein, which I’ll be reviewing tomorrow.
As for Frankenstein, it’s a classic and it’s pretty much required viewing for any film lover. Boris Karloff’s performance as the confused and often child-like monster is both poignant and menacing. Watching the film, you just wish that the world had been nicer to him.
(Then again, that approach didn’t exactly work out well for the little girl with the flowers…)
Frankenstein is so much more than just Colin Clive shouting, “It’s alive!” If you haven’t actually sat down watched the entire movie from beginning to end, you owe it to yourself to do so today.
Mary Shelley’s got a story to tell… 
Through the Shattered Lens 