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yendi(Reminder: this was yesterday's review, left at work because I'm an idiot. Today's review will appear this afternoon or evening).
The Bride of Frankenstein. 1935. Directed by James Whale. Written by William Hurlbut and at least six others. Produced by Universal.
As I mentioned last month, the first review of every month is going to focus on one of the true classics that transcend the genre. I'm not sure any sequel has become as iconic as James Whale's Bride of Frankenstein. The image of The Bride is one that's familiar to almost any movie fan. And the movie has a much deeper and richer plot than the original (which is also one of the films that belongs in everyone's library)*, as well as a subversive streak infinitely superior to what we get in transgressive wannabes like the crap Eli Roth dumps on the market.
Plot? Oh, come on. You've seen this or one of the four thousand remakes or rip-offs. That said, if you haven't seen this movie, you might be surprised by some of the details. Our story begins in the "real" world, in which Mary Shelley explains to her husband and Lord Byron that there was a lot more to the "Frankenstein" story than she revealed. As she starts to tell them (and us) what really happened, we fade to the movie proper:
Frankenstein's Monster didn't die at the end of the first movie, but, like Michael Myers at the end of Halloween 4, he was buried beneath rubble, and everyone assumed he was dead. Well, except for the distraught parents of the little girl that the Monster accidentally drowned in the last movie. They search through the rubble for the Monster, but the Monster finds the hubby first, grabbing him and drowning him. In a scene that's been ripped off on some level or other by nearly every horror director since, the wife sees what she assumes is her husband's hand in the rubble, and reaches to it to help him up, not realizing that she's actually placing herself in the hands of the Monster.
The only living person to see the Monster is Frankenstein's batty old maid, who isn't named Cassandra, but whose warnings of doom are just as thoroughly ignored.
Meanwhile, it turns out that the Good Doctor Frankenstein didn't die at the end of the last film, either. He's also learned that Messing With Things that God Doesn't Want Man to Know isn't for him, and he's going to go to Harvard and become a lawyer like his mom wanted. Okay, he's not that extreme. But he's going to try to use his knowledge for good, and to marry Elizabeth, his long-suffering fiance. Things are going swimmingly until we meet the real villain of this story, and possibly the greatest mad scientist in film history: Dr. Pretorius.
Pretorius was Frankenstein's old science teacher in college (and there's more than a hint in Ernest Thesiger's performance that there might well have been a deeper relationship there), but he clearly never taught scientific ethics. He eventually blackmails Frankenstein into assisting with his work, and we learn that he's managed to create a number of homunculi. We see a king, a queen, an archbishop, a devil, and others, all very much acting their parts and poking fun at royalty and religious leaders. Alas, Pretorius is a size queen, and wants Frankenstein's help in making his creations larger. I should note, for those who care about such things, that it is in this scene that Pretorius utters his famous "gods and monsters" line.
Meanwhile, the Monster learns that no good deed goes unpunished. When a sweet young shepherdess is scared silly by the sight of the lonely Monster, she falls over a cliff and into some water. The Monster saves her, but she still screams in terror, and the villagers come after him, shooting him in the arm for his heroics, and chasing him back into the woods. It's worth noting that the woods, lush in the previous scene, are now barren and stark. This isn't a continuity issues; Whale was flirting with Expressionism**, and using the shift from lush to desolate to convey the Monster's mood.
The villagers capture the Monster, tie him to a pole (in a very Christ-like pose), stone him, and parade him around the streets. Eventually, the Monster, enraged, breaks free and murders a bunch of guards (and another girl) as he makes his way to freedom.
This leads to the most heartbreaking scene in the movie. The Monster ends up at the campfire of a blind hermit. The latter shares his food with the Monster, and slowly, over a period of days, teaches him to speak. The kindly old man also shares his Christianity with the Monster, introducing him to the nature of belief and faith. The hermit plays his violin for the Monster (who is, for the first time in his life, content and not lonely), and they are both happy to have companionship.
Inevitably, some of the hunters who chased the Monster earlier come upon the hut, and they attack, eventually leading to a struggle in which the hut is set on fire. The hunters guide the hermit away as the Monster pitifully shouts, "Friend?" This entire sequence is simply devastating.
The Monster goes on a rampage through a cemetery, eventually hiding in a crypt and bemoaning his need for companionship. By coincidence, Pretorius and his assistants have come here as well to rob a few graves, and Pretorius (not fazed by the Monster at all) offers to create a bride for the Monster. He convinces the Monster to help him persuade the still-reluctant Frankenstein to help out (by capturing the latter's wife), and sends his assistant out for a female heart from the hospital. The latter takes a shortcut and murders a woman on the street for the heart. Lazy bastard.
We now get the creation sequence, complete with sparks flying, electricity arcing, smoke filling the room, etc. Eventually (after the Monster kills Pretorius's assistant), the experiment works, and we have a Bride! The bandages are pulled away from her face, revealing, well, the image of the Bride that everyone knows. She takes one look at the Monster and screams.
The Monster does not say, "Well, you're no Clara Bow yourself," although you have to bet he's thinking it. Instead, he continues to make friendly overtures to her, only to be greeting by that same ear-piercing scream. After repeated attempts, the Monster, his self-image shattered, says, "She hate me. Like others." He's given up.
With nothing left to live for, the Monster starts destroying the lab. Eventually, he comes to the lab's self-destruct lever***, and, ignoring Pretorius's warning of "you'll blow us all to atoms," he pulls it. He does, however, let Frankenstein and Elizabeth escape first. When Pretorius attempts to leave, the Monster tells him, "You stay. We belong dead." Both god and monster (you decide which is which) are buried, along with the still-horrified Bride. Outside, Frankenstein and his wife, finally free of the curse he brought on himself, resolve to live a happy life.
Whale simply topped himself on every level with Bride of Frankenstein, mixing witty parody, religious and social satire, and a damned good horror flick together into a classic. Scenes like the ones with the Hermit are still heartbreakingly moving today, while the rampage of the Monster himself has never been more effective in any big-screen incarnation. Karloff, finally allowed to speak and bring his Monster fully to life, conveys its simple emotions beautifully. The rest of the cast -- especially Colin Clive as the Doctor and Ernest Thesiger as Pretorius -- are also leagues better than many who have stepped into the roles since. And, of course, even today, the set design and effects (the latter by Jack Pierce) are classics.
If I could really only own two horror movies, this is one of the ones I wouldn't give up (more on the other one next month). Simply a work of utter genius.
*Oh, and if you're one of the wankers who pisses on this movie because it's not a faithful adaptation of the novel, just stop watching movies now. If a novel can be faithfully adapted as a movie, it probably should have been fucking written as a screenplay first. Besides, most of the stuff that didn't make the original film is included here, other than the whole trip to the Arctic. Oh, and feel free to spend some time convincing me that Kubrick's The Shining is weaker than Mick Garris's more faithful adaptation.
**We all have our weak moments.
***Seriously. I want a self-destruct lever in my lab when I grow up.
The Bride of Frankenstein. 1935. Directed by James Whale. Written by William Hurlbut and at least six others. Produced by Universal.
As I mentioned last month, the first review of every month is going to focus on one of the true classics that transcend the genre. I'm not sure any sequel has become as iconic as James Whale's Bride of Frankenstein. The image of The Bride is one that's familiar to almost any movie fan. And the movie has a much deeper and richer plot than the original (which is also one of the films that belongs in everyone's library)*, as well as a subversive streak infinitely superior to what we get in transgressive wannabes like the crap Eli Roth dumps on the market.
Plot? Oh, come on. You've seen this or one of the four thousand remakes or rip-offs. That said, if you haven't seen this movie, you might be surprised by some of the details. Our story begins in the "real" world, in which Mary Shelley explains to her husband and Lord Byron that there was a lot more to the "Frankenstein" story than she revealed. As she starts to tell them (and us) what really happened, we fade to the movie proper:
Frankenstein's Monster didn't die at the end of the first movie, but, like Michael Myers at the end of Halloween 4, he was buried beneath rubble, and everyone assumed he was dead. Well, except for the distraught parents of the little girl that the Monster accidentally drowned in the last movie. They search through the rubble for the Monster, but the Monster finds the hubby first, grabbing him and drowning him. In a scene that's been ripped off on some level or other by nearly every horror director since, the wife sees what she assumes is her husband's hand in the rubble, and reaches to it to help him up, not realizing that she's actually placing herself in the hands of the Monster.
The only living person to see the Monster is Frankenstein's batty old maid, who isn't named Cassandra, but whose warnings of doom are just as thoroughly ignored.
Meanwhile, it turns out that the Good Doctor Frankenstein didn't die at the end of the last film, either. He's also learned that Messing With Things that God Doesn't Want Man to Know isn't for him, and he's going to go to Harvard and become a lawyer like his mom wanted. Okay, he's not that extreme. But he's going to try to use his knowledge for good, and to marry Elizabeth, his long-suffering fiance. Things are going swimmingly until we meet the real villain of this story, and possibly the greatest mad scientist in film history: Dr. Pretorius.
Pretorius was Frankenstein's old science teacher in college (and there's more than a hint in Ernest Thesiger's performance that there might well have been a deeper relationship there), but he clearly never taught scientific ethics. He eventually blackmails Frankenstein into assisting with his work, and we learn that he's managed to create a number of homunculi. We see a king, a queen, an archbishop, a devil, and others, all very much acting their parts and poking fun at royalty and religious leaders. Alas, Pretorius is a size queen, and wants Frankenstein's help in making his creations larger. I should note, for those who care about such things, that it is in this scene that Pretorius utters his famous "gods and monsters" line.
Meanwhile, the Monster learns that no good deed goes unpunished. When a sweet young shepherdess is scared silly by the sight of the lonely Monster, she falls over a cliff and into some water. The Monster saves her, but she still screams in terror, and the villagers come after him, shooting him in the arm for his heroics, and chasing him back into the woods. It's worth noting that the woods, lush in the previous scene, are now barren and stark. This isn't a continuity issues; Whale was flirting with Expressionism**, and using the shift from lush to desolate to convey the Monster's mood.
The villagers capture the Monster, tie him to a pole (in a very Christ-like pose), stone him, and parade him around the streets. Eventually, the Monster, enraged, breaks free and murders a bunch of guards (and another girl) as he makes his way to freedom.
This leads to the most heartbreaking scene in the movie. The Monster ends up at the campfire of a blind hermit. The latter shares his food with the Monster, and slowly, over a period of days, teaches him to speak. The kindly old man also shares his Christianity with the Monster, introducing him to the nature of belief and faith. The hermit plays his violin for the Monster (who is, for the first time in his life, content and not lonely), and they are both happy to have companionship.
Inevitably, some of the hunters who chased the Monster earlier come upon the hut, and they attack, eventually leading to a struggle in which the hut is set on fire. The hunters guide the hermit away as the Monster pitifully shouts, "Friend?" This entire sequence is simply devastating.
The Monster goes on a rampage through a cemetery, eventually hiding in a crypt and bemoaning his need for companionship. By coincidence, Pretorius and his assistants have come here as well to rob a few graves, and Pretorius (not fazed by the Monster at all) offers to create a bride for the Monster. He convinces the Monster to help him persuade the still-reluctant Frankenstein to help out (by capturing the latter's wife), and sends his assistant out for a female heart from the hospital. The latter takes a shortcut and murders a woman on the street for the heart. Lazy bastard.
We now get the creation sequence, complete with sparks flying, electricity arcing, smoke filling the room, etc. Eventually (after the Monster kills Pretorius's assistant), the experiment works, and we have a Bride! The bandages are pulled away from her face, revealing, well, the image of the Bride that everyone knows. She takes one look at the Monster and screams.
The Monster does not say, "Well, you're no Clara Bow yourself," although you have to bet he's thinking it. Instead, he continues to make friendly overtures to her, only to be greeting by that same ear-piercing scream. After repeated attempts, the Monster, his self-image shattered, says, "She hate me. Like others." He's given up.
With nothing left to live for, the Monster starts destroying the lab. Eventually, he comes to the lab's self-destruct lever***, and, ignoring Pretorius's warning of "you'll blow us all to atoms," he pulls it. He does, however, let Frankenstein and Elizabeth escape first. When Pretorius attempts to leave, the Monster tells him, "You stay. We belong dead." Both god and monster (you decide which is which) are buried, along with the still-horrified Bride. Outside, Frankenstein and his wife, finally free of the curse he brought on himself, resolve to live a happy life.
Whale simply topped himself on every level with Bride of Frankenstein, mixing witty parody, religious and social satire, and a damned good horror flick together into a classic. Scenes like the ones with the Hermit are still heartbreakingly moving today, while the rampage of the Monster himself has never been more effective in any big-screen incarnation. Karloff, finally allowed to speak and bring his Monster fully to life, conveys its simple emotions beautifully. The rest of the cast -- especially Colin Clive as the Doctor and Ernest Thesiger as Pretorius -- are also leagues better than many who have stepped into the roles since. And, of course, even today, the set design and effects (the latter by Jack Pierce) are classics.
If I could really only own two horror movies, this is one of the ones I wouldn't give up (more on the other one next month). Simply a work of utter genius.
*Oh, and if you're one of the wankers who pisses on this movie because it's not a faithful adaptation of the novel, just stop watching movies now. If a novel can be faithfully adapted as a movie, it probably should have been fucking written as a screenplay first. Besides, most of the stuff that didn't make the original film is included here, other than the whole trip to the Arctic. Oh, and feel free to spend some time convincing me that Kubrick's The Shining is weaker than Mick Garris's more faithful adaptation.
**We all have our weak moments.
***Seriously. I want a self-destruct lever in my lab when I grow up.