Frankenstein

Frankenstein is one of the most influential movies in all of cinema. Outside of one or two silent films of the expressionist tradition, namely The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari and Nosferatu, it is one of the first majorly popular and impactful horror films. It set almost every visual convention we carry to this very day about what Frankenstein’s monster should look like. It spawned a whole gaggle of sequels all starring Boris Karloff as the monster. But is it good? No, not really.

The first thing to note about the movie is that it is not based directly on Mary Shelley’s famous book by the same name. Rather, it is a cinematic translation of a stage adaptation of Mary Shelley’s story. This connection to the stage play comes through in the film’s visuals. The result is something that feels decidedly more theatrical than cinematic. The staging and camera work are noticeably flat, even for a film of its era. Most of the locations both look and feel like they were filmed on a theatrical set more than at a genuine location. In fairness, shooting on stages can be fine in certain circumstances. If the soundstage is indistinguishable from a real shooting location, like Rear Window, if the work is evoking the stage stylistically, like The Red Shoes, or if the piece is intended to read as a stage play on film, like the BBC’s Importance of Being Earnest (1952). In Frankenstein, however, the staged look does not work as a stylistic choice, if it even was an intentional one, and instead makes the film’s blocking and mise-en-scene just feel uninspired.

The acting, too, is a big disappointment. No one really turned in a performance that felt worthy of a film of Frankenstein’s fame and cultural impact. The primary love interest, Elizabeth, is particularly terrible. A certain amount of overacting is associated with the scream queen role in horror, but she combines this overacting with stilted line deliveries even in the most mundane exchanges in the film. Boris Karloff, who was made a household name by his embodiment of the monster, mostly just grunts and swings his arms about as he lurches haphazardly at his victims. Dr. Frankenstein comes across the best of any of the major speaking roles, but I suspect it is actually a fairly mediocre performance that only appears exceptional by the company it keeps.

It is also worth noting that this book to stage to movie game of telephone results in a significantly less interesting piece of writing. Much of the original story’s material that was presumably cut to make it work inside the proscenium arch remains cut for the film. This aspect may only be noticeable to those who know the original book, but it does mean that some of the philosophical nuance of the novel is sadly absent.

For example, the book focuses the tragedy of the monster’s creation on his creator, punishing him for playing God in a character arc evocative of the tale of Icarus. The movie, on the other hand, seems more interested in punishing the monster for existing. There is some work done to make him sympathetic, but how effective those elements are will vary from person to person and may be affected by which version of the film they see. Several alternative cuts were made as a result of different locations maintaining different ratings and censorship restrictions, with the main difference being whether the audience sees the monster kill a little girl or not. In the version where the girl is not seen being thrown in the lake to presumably drown, and then carried lifeless through the streets by her grieving father, all of the monster’s attacks have largely been provoked and/or driven by self defense. In fact, this edit of his interaction with the girl even further humanizes him because it shows when encountering the purity of a child, he is capable of matching kindness with kindness in the same way he matched aggression with aggression when dealing with the Doctor and his compatriots. As a result, when the townsfolk take up their torches and pitchforks it appears to be driven more by fear and disgust with the monster for what he is rather than what he has actually done. If you do see the little girl die, while her murder is portrayed as accidental, it may be harder to see the monster as largely misunderstood and mistreated. This would then shift the townsfolk’s reactions from an only weakly justifiable mob panic to a genuine concern over a dangerous simpleton who, whether he means to or not, is capable of murdering any of the local residents without much trouble or remorse… who also happens to look like an abomination.

In short, the movie chooses to trade the complicated psychological horror of the philosophical complexities of the book for the shock value of a giant man with sunken eyes, an unnaturally tall forehead, and a metal bolt through his neck. I imagine this was positively shocking for an early 1930s audience who had never seen anything like this before captured on film, but for a modern audience these cheap thrills simply don’t hold up. What remains is something deserving of harsh criticism. The staging and design is flat, the acting is weak, and the story rewards the hubris of its titular character not with death at the hands of his unholy creation but with a wedding to his childhood sweetheart. A groundbreaking film for its time, a bona fide horror classic, but not a film I would recommend on its intrinsic, objective quality.

Would Recommend: If you are a monster movie or horror aficionado and need to see it to finish your collection.

Would Not Recommend: If you don’t want the character of Frankenstein’s monster to be ruined for you.