| Collector's Corner October 2002
 The Bride of FrankensteinStarring: Karloff, Colin Clive,
Valerie Hobson, Ernest Thesiger, Elsa Lanchester, Una O’Connor, O.P. Heggie, Dwight
Frye
Directed by: James Whale
Theatrical release: 1935
DVD release: 1999
Video: Original Aspect Ratio
Sound: Dolby Digital 2.0
Studio: Universal Studios
The story starts in a lovely room in Switzerland
where Lord Byron, Percy Shelley, and his mistress Mary are cozied up on a stormy night.
Both men are already famous as England’s top poets of the new romanticism. Mary,
herself from a staunch feminist family, has done the unconventional -- written a book
(something most genteel women wouldn’t do) about a monster (something no genteel
person would do). Byron goads her into spinning a tale of what happened after the monster
was killed in the last book. She demurely protests, but proceeds to launch us into the new
story.
Dr. Henry Frankenstein (Colin Clive) has left his monster
(Boris Karloff, credited as Karloff) to die in the burning rubble of a windmill. Many of
the townspeople want to make sure he’s dead, most of all the grieving parents whose
daughter the monster killed. The monster is alive and kills both parents. He is captured,
but escapes, killing a guard, and makes his way to a gentle blind hermit (O.P. Heggie).
The hermit assumes the monster is simply mute and offers to be his friend. They secretly
live happily together, and the hermit teaches the monster to talk, smoke, and drink.
At the same time, Dr. Pretorius (Ernest Thesiger) has
offered to combine his work in raising humans from seeds (shades of current science) with
Frankenstein's so they can create a race of monsters to do their bidding.
Frankenstein’s wife (Valerie Hobson) is against it. When two hunters find the monster
in the hermit’s hovel, they chase him away. He hides in a cemetery where he runs into
Pretorius having a picnic in a crypt. Pretorius offers to make a mate for the monster if
he will kidnap Frankenstein’s wife. The monster complies and Frankenstein is forced
to join forces with Pretorius. The question is: How far will he go?
The first Universal Studios Frankenstein (1931) had
been a huge hit. Studio mogul Carl Laemmle’s son, Carl Jr., was anxious to notch up a
hit on his own. He went back to all concerned to try to get them involved in a sequel.
Karloff was willing to come back but wanted top billing. Colin Clive was the biggest name,
but he had already descended so far into the depths of alcoholism that his judgment was
impaired. He would be dead two years later at the age of 37. Mae Clarke, who played the
young bride to Dr. Frankenstein in the original, had run into a series of
"personal" problems and was no longer considered worthy of anything but B
movies. James Whale, the brilliant director in charge of the first film, had no interest
in the second. But the junior exec was not to be denied. He offered Whale control over the
story and the choice of new actors, and Whale finally joined on.
His first move was to bring in friend and fellow flamboyant
homosexual Ernest Thesiger. Fifty-two years old at the time, Thesiger modeled his
appearance after Queen Mary, his close friend and crocheting partner. He had already been
in a dozen films and written two books (including, and I’m not making this up, Adventures
in Embroidery). He was an inspired choice and stole every scene he was in, no matter
whom he shared it with. His wry style, impeccable diction, and queenly comportment were
classic.
Whale’s second choice was to have a piece of film to
show that he was able to do more than monster movies. He convinced young Laemmle to allow
him to do the opening scene in grand costume-drama style. It was a brilliant device, but
of course completely untrue to Mary’s original book. However, it did allow us in on
one of literature’s great crazy moments.
It was 1816 at the Villa Diodati on Lake Geneva where
Shelley, Byron, John Polidori, and 19-year-old Mary Godwin were stuck due to a rainstorm.
They started reading scary stories from Fantasmagoriana. Byron challenged all
present to write their own horror story. Shelley’s was no good and Byron only did a
scrap. Polidori wrote The Vampyre. Mary wrote Frankenstein. The summer has
been immortalized in several movies (Frankenstein Unbound, Haunted Summer, and
Gothic, to name a few). Whale made the most of his five minutes of glam, not only
showing his skill with fancy sets and grand elocution, but also coming up with one of the
most creative recap devices ever used in a sequel. I’m sure he wished that the rest
of the film would have been as simple.
The problems started immediately. Clive’s drunkenness
caused him to show up for filming with a broken leg, the main reason he’s usually in
bed or sitting during the film. Karloff didn’t want to talk in his role, thinking it
cheapened the monster (never mind that in the original novel, the monster spoke
eloquently). During the opening filming with the burning windmill, he fell into a pit and
broke his leg, which they had to brace with steel so he could finish filming. Gorgeous
17-year-old Valerie Hobson, who played Frankenstein’s wife, demanded to do more than
cry and collapse. All this seems weird enough that there should be a book here, and there
is: Father of Frankenstein by Christopher Bram, later made into Gods and
Monsters (1998), which covered the making in great flashback detail.
Throughout it all, Whale kept the movie moving. Rather than
make this a film filled with jolting gore, he used dread, menace, and pathos. He even
added some comic touches through the use of Minnie (Una O’Connor); the only scenes
she doesn’t steal are where she’s paired with Pretorius.
Whale made brilliant decisions regarding the look and feel
of the film. His obtusely angled photography along with shadowy lighting was gleaned from
the German Expressionists (see Lang’s Metropolis, Murnau’s Nosferatu,
eine Symphonie des Grauens or Wiene’s Das Kabinett des Doktor Caligari for
antecedents), but he used it so effectively an argument could be made that The Bride of
Frankenstein gave birth to American film noir. For example, watch the lighting
during chapter 5, when Pretorius enters the Frankenstein castle. The light dances on the
walls, and objects move in and out of sight. Creepy.
But don’t get the idea The Bride of Frankenstein
doesn’t retain the power to frighten. A perfect example comes in chapter 17. Turn off
your display, go to exactly 1:13:00 into the film, and freeze it. Turn off all your lights
and turn your display back on. Here is an iconographic image, one that you will know the
second you see it. But gaze and be drawn in. Even 67 years later, I can’t think of a
single more chilling image in film.
Whale’s choice of Franz Waxman as composer was
similarly inspired. Waxman used the Wagnerian system of leitmotifs to build and add
subconscious depth to the film. His interjection of Schubert’s "Ave Maria"
in the scene where the hermit befriends the monster is supremely touching.
Thankfully, Universal has done a splendid job of cleaning
up the picture and the sound. Both are cleaner than you would expect. This doesn’t
have the crystalline clarity of a new film, but I like it a little murky and I’m
certain Whale intended some of that. It makes you always wonder what’s around every
corner.
Whale could never have dreamed that his studio would lavish
the sort of extras we get here on his little monster movie. While not quite up to the
highest standard (Citizen Kane), it comes close. There are production notes, a
trailer, and an unusually complete set of cast credits. A documentary called She's
Alive! Creating the Bride of Frankenstein is the equivalent of a feast of foie gras
for fans of the Frankenstein oeuvre. Directors, historians, family members of the cast,
and crew lend fascinating detail and background to the film. The Bride of Frankenstein
Archive shows posters and stills with Waxman’s music playing in the background. Pay
particular attention to the stills. Each is a work of art.
Best for last: The commentary by historian Scott MacQueen
is a model for others to follow. So many commentary tracks sound like several bored people
got together to watch a film and let you listen to their palaver. MacQueen’s is
erudite, well thought out, and if possible, both encyclopedic and cogent. His insights and
background information constantly surprised me. His work here is only surpassed by Roger
Ebert’s talk on Citizen Kane. MacQueen’s day job is Senior Manager of
Library Restoration for Disney. I hope we hear much more from him in the future.
Please don’t underestimate this film and consign it to
the cheap "horror" bin of history. It is certainly at the zenith of the
wonderful Universal horror catalog. And it’s not only one of the best horror movies
of all time, but certainly one of the best movies in any genre. This is one I’d pack
to take to my own little desert island.
...Wes Marshall
wesm@hometheatersound.com |
