It's Alive...It's Alive. It's Alive!: Frankenstein (1931)

Well it was purely serendipitous, it is nonetheless fitting that my last blog post for the horror marathon this month is devoted to the phenomenal and eerie mood piece that is Universal's 1931 Frankenstein.  Coming out the same year as the company's other famous monster movie Dracula the two depict the highest ends of their genres possibilities, particularly for the era.  Both look sumptuous in their recent high definition upgrades, seeping off the screen and asking viewers to consider how and what shocks them about the cinema going experience, a rather intrusive act for a time when sound had just begun to emerge within filmmaking.  Frankenstein is most certainly on no level with its follow-up Bride of Frankenstein, however, comparisons between the two would be foolish, particularly since the later is one of the highest achievements ever reached in film.  Here under James Whale's direction the pieces of the film come together in wildly inventive and engaging ways, wholly equating to every aspect and understanding of how a film should exist on screen, combining stunning performance, inconceivably evasive lighting and cinematography and enough of a breaking away from the literary material to still provide it with a sense of permanence, while being accessible without having read the text.  It also goes without say that Boris Karloff steals the show here, sure it, as is the book, is only minimally concerned with the experiences of the monster, but the screen time he does possess, including one of the most infamous moments in cinema history are timeless and evocative, made all the more so by the crisp and cinematic new transfer.  I found myself thinking while watching the film that this work has all the audacity and cinematic inventiveness of the most recent critically-acclaimed blockbusters, taking no less a risk with technology than say Gravity, or being no less meticulous in its composition than Inception.  Yet, where in the previous two films, less so for Inception, story and genuine emotion are lost in the overt visual and psychological exploitation of the film, Frankenstein is work on a much purer and more rewarding level of reactionary filmmaking, explaining how it and many of the other Universal monster movies have managed to attain and continually retain such a degree of timelessness.

Frankenstein begins not in the story, but with an unnamed gentleman stepping through a curtain and warning audiences that the cinematic experience they are about to undertake will be unlike anything they have previously encountered, something that will both shock and terrify.  This act draws upon the theatricality of it and the medium of film in general, only to constantly push away from it once the film proper begins, with images of Henry Frankenstein (Colin Clive) and his hunch-backed assistant Fritz (Dwight Frye) prowling about a graveyard late at night in search of a recently deceased human brain, passing on a hung suicide victim due this broken neck threatening the value of the brain.  After obtaining a brain from a medical school, Henry's fiancee Elizabeth (Mae Clarke) becomes concerned with his constant involvement in experiments, thus recruiting the help of Frankenstein's old professor Dr. Waldman (Edward Van Sloan) to help deter his preoccupation with the creatures of his experiments.  Arriving at his laboratory, Waldman, Frankenstein and others discover the scientist feverishly at work attempting to reanimate a corpse that is comprised of various body parts and a brain obtained from Waldman's classroom.  Through the use of natural technology, Frankenstein is able to do so, bring to live his Monster (Boris Karloff) a barbaric beast that, nonetheless, has a considerable degree of intelligence, as well as a desire to destroy, after it is made known that the brain implanted into the monster was one of the abnormal, therefore having a much higher desire to harm.  After a tough but valiant effort to subdue the Monster, Frankenstein leaves his laboratory and promises to place all his care into preparing for his wedding, completely ignoring the presence of the Monster in favor of Elizabeth.  This choice proves foolish as the Monster eventually breaks free and begins to roam the countryside, at one point meeting a girl named Maria (Marilyn Harris) who instantly befriends the Monster, teaching him how to make flowers float in the water, but when the Monster mistakes his trick for something that can also work on Maria, the results are dire, resulting in his being chased by an angry town mob.  Frankenstein returns in an attempt to again subdue the Monster, although it proves unsuccessful and the Monster is ultimately burned to re-death in a fiery windmill grave, while a recovering Frankenstein is left to focus fully on him upcoming wedding.

The great question in literary theory since the release of Shelly's classic novel is as to what exactly Frankenstein's Monster is intended to represent and many readings have emerge from the historical approach to the outwardly psychoanalytic, all pulling from various sources and making astute and plausible arguments to its metaphor and implications.  I want to entrench myself within the camp of the late Alexander Doty and suggest that one must read the text, in particular this film, against the grain and lift from it a narrative of queer identity and its violent suppression, wherein the Monster represents the young Frankenstein attempting to draw attention to his queer desire only to have society (i.e. his father, professor and fiancee) suggest that such desires are not only bad, but literally monstrous.  Keeping this in mind then, the navigation of the Monster, whose "abnormal" brain purportedly causes him to act out differently really proves to be quite similar to humans, whose reactions to being caged up and taunted with fire would, in all likelihood, be quite similar to the frustrations of the Monster.  In this reading it is also important to remember that Frankenstein functions far differently than other horror films, first because Frankenstein is only minimally about the Monster, and second, when the Monster does emerge it is in an almost ephemeral manner, as though to be a passing reminder of some threat to others' livelihood.  This is no more obvious than in the scene when the Monster scales a wall to enter into Elizabeth's room, only to have her arise from her bed unannounced before it can strike her.  Extending the queer metaphor, the Monster is present, but Elizabeth chooses to play ignorant to the fact, instead seeking solace in heteronormative constructs, hoping that the Monster, like Frankenstein's queerness will magically disappear.  The laboratory that Frankenstein resides in becomes his safe space, adding a tense, but present, layer of the homosocial bond between himself and Fritz, one that takes on a bizarre servant master element as well.  Of course, Shelly's novel, as well as Whale's film exist in a time when homosexuality, and any non-normative sexual identity were not only socially condemned, but also deemed scientifically disturbing, so queerness in such a context must be destroyed and in the case of this film it is in the most violent and fiery of manners, moving the film into a final moment of the idyllic, emphasized by a return to natural soft lighting and a private domestic space where Frankenstein is not only the object of his fiancee's affections, but a bevy of attractive nurses as well.

Key Scene:  The Monster's encounter with Maria in all its latent tragedy still manages to be one of the most moving scenes in all of cinema.

I just picked up a great deal on the Universal Classic Monsters bluray boxset.  Keep an eye out for it to go on sale again, it is as worthy an investment as one can find.

Your Will Is Strong Van Helsing: Dracula (1931)

I am returning from what may well be my longest hiatus away from posting a blog since its inception and I feel as though a bit of explanation is necessary.  First, I am getting further into the beast that is legitimate academic scholarship on film.  Not that I do not love writing blog posts, but these are a labor of love that serve more as a space for me to toss around ideas about films I view for later reference, the fact that anybody reads the posts is added benefit, particularly when they leave wonderful and insightful commentary after doing so.  Second, I have spent almost the entirety of last week at Orphans Midwest, an amazing conference of discussions on non-commerical films and their place in social and academic discourse.  The entire event filled with prolific discussions by scholars, as well as an insane amount of rarefied screenings from Hollis Frampton outtakes to 40's era Studebaker was everything I could possibly want to spend time doing, but it was certainly daunting and very time consuming.  As such, I have decided to return this month with a similar marathon as I had last October, one focusing entirely on the genre of horror films, both in their most obvious incarnations, as well as some of their more unusual executions.  I really enjoyed this endeavor last year and managed to knock a ton of previously unseen films off of my list, as well as found myself being afforded with an opportunity to revisit some of my favorite works.  This year it will be more heavy on things that I have never seen, especially some of the real classics, but I have made room for one film that I have been meaning to revisit since it was the subject of an "informative" documentary, both on the nature of film studies and individuals' relationships with art in general.  Beginning with one of my rather large shame spots, I have decided to undertake Tod Browning's 1931 adaptation of Dracula, one of the major works in Universal Studios' long run of monster movies from the thirties, a work whose expressionist charm and chiaroscuro haunting imagery meld into a work that seems as scary, and, more importantly, timeless as its introduction over eighty years ago.

Dracula, this version at least, begins with Renfield (Dwight Frye) a solicitor organizing a visitation to through the townsfolk of Transylvania with the hopes of meeting Count Dracula (Bela Lugosi) on an urgent business manner.  Confused as to why the townsfolk are hesitant to help him in his endeavor, Renfield, nonetheless, accrues a driver to take him to Borgo Pass where he is to meet Dracula at midnight.  A series of events, including a bat-led carriage lead Renfield into a state of paranoia, one fully affirmed when he finally meets Dracula in his castle, realizing that the count is very much a vampire, using his ability of fascination to drive the unsuspecting Renfield into madness and using him as a means to transport himself to England.  Upon arrival in England, Dracula immediately takes it upon himself to find bodies with which to feed upon, including the young Mina (Helen Chandler) whom Dracula fascinates and then preys upon in her sleep, resulting in her death the following day, despite a series of unsuccessful blood transfusions.  Renfield, now housed in an insane asylum, becomes the obsession of Professor Van Helsing (Edward Van Sloan) who realizes taht after his talk of spiders and vampires, that he is clearly a victim of Count Dracula, thus leading to Van Helsing seeking out the vampire and ridding London of his violent endeavors.  Van Helsing and Dracula eventually encounter one another, wherein Dracula explains that Mina is invariably attached to his influence, suggesting that she belongs to him now through a blood bond, one affirmed by her zombie like attachment to the count.  Van Helsing, an expert in the folklore of vampires, manages to equip himself with the various paraphernalia necessary to counter Dracula's tricks and fascinations, particularly a crucifix which drives the vampire away instantaneously.  After a run-in with the still maniacal Renfield, Van Helsing is able to trap Dracula inside his coffin during the daylight, affording him an opportunity to drive a stake through the vampires body, thus freeing Mina from her possession.

Dracula is a classic work in expressionist horror, working right on the cusp of the silent era German Expressionist work, wherein the lines between darkness/light, good/evil and sanity/insanity are thinly veiled, if not entirely non-existant.  Think about basically the entirety of Dr. Caligari, wherein the narrative takes a turn, then another turn, only to be followed by another turn, just to have that all be a turn within in a turn.  Suffice it to say, it makes Inception look like child's play.  Dracula is not a convoluted plot in even the loosest of terms, indeed, it is about as straight forward as a film can be, indicative of Classic Hollywood filmmaking and much of the horror output dumped on viewers by Universal, the exception to this being any narratives involving the more complex character of Frankenstein, whose Universal film might receive in-depth focus later this month.  The choice ot make the divides rather blatant in this film, afford it a degree of study on the nature of insanity, one that suggest that much of madness might well be rooted in a reality, even if it is the result o fa truly demonic/evil presence inducing such mania.  Renfield, is certainly crazy for his preoccupation with spiders and vampires, but it is something that came after a traumatic event, not something that necessarily reflects a person being induced by inexplicable mental breakdown.  Similarly, there are clear lines drawn between good and evil that are tied to more traditional norms, which seem almost seem absurd by contemporary standards.  Take for example the rural townsfolk whose purity is tied to their proletariat nature, one that is in direct contrast to the bourgeois excess and evil of Count Dracula whose consumption of things around him, literally in the sense of bodies, make him both evil in a demonic sense, as well as in a non-capitalist context.  Indeed, the only person of wealth who is deemed morally forthright is the doctor Van Helsing, but his goodness is tied to his profession one that affords him likability and lightness, in contrast to the darkness of Dracula, making the matted style of this film with its expressionist backdrops that much more clear in its divisions.  Formulaic as they may seem by contemporary eyes, these are tropes that were then still establishing themselves, and Browning serves them up at their most pictorial.

Key Scene:  The classic scene of the line of light on Dracula's eyes when he is in the act of fascinating Mina is a point of perfection in Gothic horror.

This film gets a bit long in its last act, stopping it from being a flawless film, but it is still an exceptional work, whose classic status is without question.  Furthermore, it is available on Netflix so watching it is easy and worthwhile given its short runtime.