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.

To Look Ordinary, Not Beautiful, Just Ordinary: Frankenstein Created Woman (1967)

My consumption of Hammer films has always been of considerable lack, particularly since I have decided to take upon yet another prospective project involving solely an analysis of the films within this unique franchise.  Upon inquiring from a friend as to some viewing recommendations from the storied company's catalog, I was amazed to find that there are quite a few films, indeed, even various eras of Hammer studio output.  Needless to say, I now have a considerable stack of Hammer films to undertake, having only seen Horror of Dracula, The Legend of the Seven Golden Vampires and the more recent, and considerably underwhelming The Woman in Black (My review at the time was far more positive).  A suggestion to begin my journey with Frankenstein Created Woman proved quite fruitful, particularly since it is a decidedly watchable work by Terence Fisher, one that manages to pull in the wonderful gothic horror elements I have come to appreciate from the few Hammer films I have seen, while also incorporating a storyline that stretches a considerable temporal length without exhausting itself or seeming a bit too haphazard.  In fact, between some of the wonderful scowling put on by Hammer veteran Peter Cushing and an overall sense of fun being exuded by all involved, Frankenstein Created Woman gives the sense of being a fully fleshed out genre film that manages to take itself lightly, thus making some of the more subtle social commentaries that emerge seem that much more realized, even decidedly intentional. I would even go so far as to suggest that Frankenstein Created Woman works primarily because it does have such a focused critique on issues of gender and class and how projections of privilege from either group can, ultimately, hinder and even harm the individuals whose bodies are othered and subsequently silenced, never mind a consideration of all the ways in which gender and identity are subverted and undermined throughout the films, pointing to the distinct yet seemingly inextricable entities of the body and the soul.  Packed into an hour and a half movie, Frankenstein Created Woman is precisely what I want from a genre piece and while I have high hopes, I know that not all of the Hammer films I will encounter later are likely to carry his same sense of brilliance and wonder.

Frankenstein Created Woman begins in a pre-title sequence, wherein an unnamed man is depicted being brought to the guillotine for an unexplained crime, only to have a small child looking on during the entire ordeal, it is revealed in the closing moments of this sequence that the boy is apparently the son of the man.  This then begins the film proper, showing Hans Werner (Robert Morris) a goofy, albeit likable guy who works for the more creepy and generally less genial Victor Frankenstein (Peter Cushing) whose stoic demeanor seems only concerned with pushing beyond the limits of science into a new degree of living, particularly so considering his fascination with the moments after death where the soul has yet to leave the body.  Aside from his work with Frankenstein, Hans also possesses romantic ties to the local barmaid Christina (Susan Denberg) who for all intents and purposes is an attractive girl, save for scarring on the left side of her face, a point of ridicule for her via a group of aristocratic youth who take much joy is throwing their money around and mocking all those worse of than they are, particularly the scarred Christina, as well as Hans for his romantic relationship with the woman they deem monstrous.  When the three reprobates return to the bar later that night to wreak more havoc, the bar owner beats the young men to death, an act that is immediately blamed on Hans who is assumed to share a genetic line with his murderous father, thus proving enough for a conviction.  Falling victim to the guillotine himself, Christina becomes distraught and throws herself into a river dying.  Realizing the moment of science possible in this, Frankenstein is able to transfer the soul of Hans into the body of Christina who returns to the living world blond and void of any of her scarring.  However, she now possesses the vengeful soul of Hans, thus using her new level of sexuality to pick off the three members of the gang, all the while Frankenstein flails to reign in his destructive creation, only to meet her at the cliff  of a river, wherein she jumps to her demise a second time, however, now as a more sacrificial act, acknowledging her body as a surrogate for Hans and his vindictive soul.

There is a ton of stuff at play in this film, much to my surprise, although I cannot be entirely thrown off by this occurring, since I had an equal if not greater reaction to The Legend of the Seven Golden Vampires.  However, I was of the assumption that much of the brilliance in that film was directly a result of The Shaw Brothers' involvement, yet it appears equally that of Hammer, if not entirely so.  I say all this because Frankenstein Created Woman manages to be a film that is deeply concerned with the process of othering and the oppression which occurs in such acts.  Take, for example, Hans who is impoverished and the son of a murdered criminal.  Society, it would appear, has all but written him off as a productive individual, leading to his being able to only find work within the space of Frankenstein's lab, a place that has been othered primarily because of a figure whose quest for scientific truth runs counter to the assumption that all power or privilege is either pre-ordained through God or can be accrued through wealth.  Indeed, when one needs to find a victim the blame falls directly on Hans and his lower class body, one could only imaging what Angela Davis might think of this particular moment in the film.  Even greater is the oppression on the body of Christina who is also lower class and that of a woman, becoming a thing of assumed exploitation for the aristocratic men, something they believe they can use freely without concern.  When the factor of her scarring is added, one could make the case for her being disabled, in so much as her scarring makes her somewhat immobile through a society that predicates women's bodies as things to be looked at and deemed attractive, something that is not entirely possible when one is maimed.  When the body of Christina is then melded with Hans' soul something intriguing happens, wherein the newly risen Christina becomes hyper-mobile in the space of the narrative, perhaps a statement on the layers of class and gender performance occurring before become futile upon death, more so a consideration though of their fluidity and how easily they can be leapt over once a person decides that following the foolish rules is not only a waste of time, but perhaps severely limiting.

Key Scene:  The matter-of-fact ending to this film made me chuckle a bit, although it was quite well-executed.

This is available in a box set with The Legend of the Seven Golden Vampires and Dracula: Prince of Darkness.  This is your best bet for viewing the film, as it is cheaper to get these three together than it is to get any of them on their own.