Director: James Whale
Writers: Mary Shelley, William Hurlbut, John L. Balderston, Josef Berne, Lawrence G. Blochman, Robert Florey, Philip MacDonald, Tom Reed, R.C. Sherriff, Edmund Pearson, Morton Covan
Photography: John J. Mescall
Music: Franz Waxman
Editor: Ted J. Kent
Cast: Elsa Lanchester, Boris Karloff, Colin Clive, Ernest Thesiger, Valerie Hobson, Una O'Connor, E.E. Clive, Dwight Frye, O.P. Heggie, Gavin Gordon, Douglas Walton, Walter Brennan, John Carradine
Bride of Frankenstein is old enough that we are still seeing experimental ways of making and marketing movies. Boris Karloff is credited as "Karloff," which seems mindful of the way sophisticated French film stars of the time such as Arletty literally made glamorous names for themselves. Elsa Lanchester never properly gets credit for playing the Bride, only for playing Mary Shelley in the odd frame story. Bride of Frankenstein is also a sequel, a follow-up to the original 1931 Frankenstein, which was as much a sensation as any of the theater productions that preceded it by well over a century. We used to love this story. Bride of Frankenstein is more fun than the 1931 original. Technology had visibly improved even across four years, and the idea of making a movie that is basically "I'd like some more of that please" in regard to another popular movie might have still seemed novel. Some like to call this the greatest sequel ever made, or one of them, and I'm not inclined to disagree.
The movie is remarkably short but remarkably packed full of unique scenes swirling around the Frankenstein mythos. The frame story depicts another storm-driven night, like the famous one in Geneva that produced Shelley's Frankenstein novel and John William Polidori's story "The Vampyre." Lord Bryon (Gavin Gordon) struts around and acts decadent, handing us the "previously on" recap while Percy simpers. Mary says she has more to tell them about "Henry" Frankenstein's miserable experiments. They gather close. Dissolve to the chaotic scenes of the end of the first movie, where the monster has presumably been destroyed with the burning windmill in which he was trapped and the villagers are relieved and happy again.
Bride of Frankenstein is old enough that we are still seeing experimental ways of making and marketing movies. Boris Karloff is credited as "Karloff," which seems mindful of the way sophisticated French film stars of the time such as Arletty literally made glamorous names for themselves. Elsa Lanchester never properly gets credit for playing the Bride, only for playing Mary Shelley in the odd frame story. Bride of Frankenstein is also a sequel, a follow-up to the original 1931 Frankenstein, which was as much a sensation as any of the theater productions that preceded it by well over a century. We used to love this story. Bride of Frankenstein is more fun than the 1931 original. Technology had visibly improved even across four years, and the idea of making a movie that is basically "I'd like some more of that please" in regard to another popular movie might have still seemed novel. Some like to call this the greatest sequel ever made, or one of them, and I'm not inclined to disagree.
The movie is remarkably short but remarkably packed full of unique scenes swirling around the Frankenstein mythos. The frame story depicts another storm-driven night, like the famous one in Geneva that produced Shelley's Frankenstein novel and John William Polidori's story "The Vampyre." Lord Bryon (Gavin Gordon) struts around and acts decadent, handing us the "previously on" recap while Percy simpers. Mary says she has more to tell them about "Henry" Frankenstein's miserable experiments. They gather close. Dissolve to the chaotic scenes of the end of the first movie, where the monster has presumably been destroyed with the burning windmill in which he was trapped and the villagers are relieved and happy again.
But the monster has not been destroyed. He's out there in caves with underground water systems trying to make a life for himself. Henry Frankenstein (Colin Clive) is now a tremulous nervous wreck who regrets his experiment and only wants to get married and settle down. Enter the evil Dr. Pretorius (Ernest Thesiger, the best player here after Karloff and Lanchester, with Una O'Connor up there too). Pretorius is not a Mary Shelley creation but he is one of the best and most ridiculous parts of a movie full of wonderful ridiculous parts.
For one thing, Pretorius has done his own version of creating life and made a much better job of it really, though no one seems to recognize that in this movie. "I grew my creatures, like cultures," he says, "grew them as nature does, from seed." ORLY? But there they are—tiny simulacrums of people, dressed in medieval court garb, a randy king and the queen he lusts for, plus a bishop who scolds them. Each lives in their own bell jar and Pretorius keeps them in a suitcase. They are far more human-like than the monster. The only thing they lack is its size and/or bolts in the neck.
But never mind, they're soon cast aside—really it was just a showcase for state-of-the-art special effects in 1935. Whatever his reasons, Pretorius is bent on creating something human-sized—a mate for the monster, "a woman" as he somehow manages to say lasciviously. Henry's not so sure. He'd prefer to get married and settle down. So Pretorius kidnaps the Margaret Dumont-like fiancée, Elizabeth (Valerie Hobson), and extorts Henry's cooperation.
Henry perks up as he engages the work. He gets to shout "it's / he's / she's alive!" a few times like he did in the first movie (which I think he only did once in the original, but you go with what works in sequels, right?). Their progress seems to be slow. Meanwhile, the monster is out foraging and finding his way on the run, which leads to probably my favorite sequence in the whole Frankenstein franchise, although the version I prefer is the one in Mel Brooks's Young Frankenstein, where Gene Hackman plays the blind hermit.
Be that as it may. The point is the monster finds friendship in the woods with a kindly blind hermit, who teaches him to drink and smoke and party. Here is where the monster starts learning to talk, expressing his appreciation of guzzling wine and good friends. The hermit also plays the fiddle and he's lonely, lonely, lonely. He's a pious man who prays. He teaches the monster that being alone is baaad and very not goood. But this peaceful scene of acceptance and civilization is soon broken up when a hunting party comes along, recognizes the monster, attacks him, and the cottage is burned down.
Then we are returned to the familiar beats of Frankenstein movies: grave robbery, an electrical storm on a dark stormy night, Henry shrieking "it's / he's / she's alive!" etc. The ending seems odd now. At the time it was intended as a big reveal of the Bride and her dazzling hairdo come to life, which lasts less than five minutes. The image of her is now iconic and thus somehow the portions here feel paltry. It's literally just a few shots of her in full garb. But we can imagine what it must have been like to see her for the first time. It's still spectacular in its way—all Elsa Lanchester's features are perfect. The image is stark and hilarious and fearsome all at once.
But no time to waste, and the last three minutes are spent on burning down the castle and destroying the monster once and for all. That should really go in scare quotes: "burning down the castle" and "destroying the monster once and for all," because we all know now that Son of Frankenstein and then a million more are waiting four more years away. Like the hand suddenly reaching out of a grave which became a trope in the '80s, burning down a castle in these old Universal pictures is a sure sign nothing is ever as final as it looks.
Top 10 of 1935?
1. Bride of Frankenstein
2.
3. The 39 Steps
4. Top Hat
5.
6. Peter Ibbetson
7. David Copperfield
8. Gold Diggers of 1935
9. The Devil Is a Woman
10. Triumph of the Will
For one thing, Pretorius has done his own version of creating life and made a much better job of it really, though no one seems to recognize that in this movie. "I grew my creatures, like cultures," he says, "grew them as nature does, from seed." ORLY? But there they are—tiny simulacrums of people, dressed in medieval court garb, a randy king and the queen he lusts for, plus a bishop who scolds them. Each lives in their own bell jar and Pretorius keeps them in a suitcase. They are far more human-like than the monster. The only thing they lack is its size and/or bolts in the neck.
But never mind, they're soon cast aside—really it was just a showcase for state-of-the-art special effects in 1935. Whatever his reasons, Pretorius is bent on creating something human-sized—a mate for the monster, "a woman" as he somehow manages to say lasciviously. Henry's not so sure. He'd prefer to get married and settle down. So Pretorius kidnaps the Margaret Dumont-like fiancée, Elizabeth (Valerie Hobson), and extorts Henry's cooperation.
Henry perks up as he engages the work. He gets to shout "it's / he's / she's alive!" a few times like he did in the first movie (which I think he only did once in the original, but you go with what works in sequels, right?). Their progress seems to be slow. Meanwhile, the monster is out foraging and finding his way on the run, which leads to probably my favorite sequence in the whole Frankenstein franchise, although the version I prefer is the one in Mel Brooks's Young Frankenstein, where Gene Hackman plays the blind hermit.
Be that as it may. The point is the monster finds friendship in the woods with a kindly blind hermit, who teaches him to drink and smoke and party. Here is where the monster starts learning to talk, expressing his appreciation of guzzling wine and good friends. The hermit also plays the fiddle and he's lonely, lonely, lonely. He's a pious man who prays. He teaches the monster that being alone is baaad and very not goood. But this peaceful scene of acceptance and civilization is soon broken up when a hunting party comes along, recognizes the monster, attacks him, and the cottage is burned down.
Then we are returned to the familiar beats of Frankenstein movies: grave robbery, an electrical storm on a dark stormy night, Henry shrieking "it's / he's / she's alive!" etc. The ending seems odd now. At the time it was intended as a big reveal of the Bride and her dazzling hairdo come to life, which lasts less than five minutes. The image of her is now iconic and thus somehow the portions here feel paltry. It's literally just a few shots of her in full garb. But we can imagine what it must have been like to see her for the first time. It's still spectacular in its way—all Elsa Lanchester's features are perfect. The image is stark and hilarious and fearsome all at once.
But no time to waste, and the last three minutes are spent on burning down the castle and destroying the monster once and for all. That should really go in scare quotes: "burning down the castle" and "destroying the monster once and for all," because we all know now that Son of Frankenstein and then a million more are waiting four more years away. Like the hand suddenly reaching out of a grave which became a trope in the '80s, burning down a castle in these old Universal pictures is a sure sign nothing is ever as final as it looks.
Top 10 of 1935?
1. Bride of Frankenstein
2.
3. The 39 Steps
4. Top Hat
5.
6. Peter Ibbetson
7. David Copperfield
8. Gold Diggers of 1935
9. The Devil Is a Woman
10. Triumph of the Will
(to be cont'd?)
No comments:
Post a Comment