The Bride of Frankenstein

I spent a delightful Saturday afternoon with Little One watching The Bride of Frankenstein. Nine years ago when she was but a bump in my wife’s belly, I fantasized about “Monster Movie Matinee” on Saturdays I’d spend with her, giving her a first-class education in the science fiction and classic horror cinema which riveted me as a child. What a great way to bond with her, and hopefully leave her with some nice memories to carry on through the years (subject matter, of course, age appropriate).

Well, she seemed to enjoy The Bride. One thing I am very, very concerned about is the chance she’ll become jaded to these flicks being exposed to the CGI that’s so prolific in today’s movies (big screen as well as regular teevee). CGI, to me, is a mixed bag. Can be good (see Jurassic Park, which still holds up two decades later) or can be dreadful (see any and every Syfy movie). When I was young, it was the black-and-white atmospheric make-up for the Universal monsters (and Technicolor blood red of the Hammer films) that sent chills up my spine. Along with the magic produced by Ray Harryhausen. I just want Little One to experience something similar.

Verdict? She liked it. She has a soft spot in her heart for Frankenstein’s monster. When she was learning to read in kindergarten we alternated paragraphs working through an age-appropriate retelling of Shelley’s tale. A year or so ago we watched the original Karloff movie. The main thing that stuck with her was the scene where the monster tossed the little girl into the lake where she inadvertently drowns. Can’t blame her. However, we talked about it, and I don’t think there was any damage, nightmares, etc. In fact, she took it quite adult-like and used it as a learning experience. Be wary of strange(looking) men.

I enjoyed Bride too. Truth be told, I’m not a hundred percent certain I ever saw this most famous of flicks as a child. Or at least not from start to finish. So it was neat for both of us – experienced a classic monster movie for the first time, together.

The movie, made four years after Frankenstein, is a direct continuation of the original. At the first movie’s conclusion Victor Frankenstein is killed as the monster tosses him off the windmill. The pitchfork-weilding villagers burn the mill to the ground, with the monster inside. Or so we’re led to believe. Monster actually falls into the water beneath, and the doctor actually survives the fall. Fast-forward a few weeks as eerie Dr. Pretorius comes a-calling, enticing / forcing a repentant Victor to resume his work animating dead bodies – this time a female. The original monster, rejected and hunted throughout the countryside, winds up back at the castle, and, after being rejected by the newly-reanimated “bride”, pulls a lever which destroys the entire laboratory and all within.

What struck me about the movie?

First, the literary egg head in me was surprised – and sorta enjoyed – the opening scene featuring the poets / writers / philosophers Lord Byron, Percy Shelley, and Mary Shelley. The men must’ve heard the version of the Frankenstein movie we saw in the first movie, and are begging Mary for more. She indulges them and – we begin the Bride. I was a bit worried the Little One would zone out at this point, but it was only a couple of minutes long, and then she settled right into the story.

The monster’s first appearance – and first murder in this film – seemed quite grim for its time. Emerging from the slimy, water-filled cave, Alien-esque, it kills a man and woman who’ve lingered too long at the windmill pyre, a man and woman who turn out to be the flower-girl-from-film-one’s parents, thus systematically eliminating that entire family. Again, very grim for its time. Typical for a movie of today, but back then, not so sure.

But – what a great, creative way to “bring the monster back” for a sequel. Falling through the floor into the water, saving it from the inferno. Genius in its simplicity.

The entire movie could be cited as the Platonic Form for a horror movie: dark, atmospheric, eerie … you could just get lost in the background alone! The cinematographer deserved every accolade he got – and even those he may not have. He’s the Edgar Allan Poe – no – the H. P. Lovecraft of cinematography.

The movie itself should also be credited with creating the whole dirty scientist / dirty laboratory motif. How many movies today are influenced by it, even if only in the subconscious of their writers, directors, and designers? The blood-stained dirt and filth are commonplace nowadays, and have long ago moved out of the labs (I’m thinking of Walking Dead, for instance). The inherent, infused creepiness of Doctor Pretorius. The unhinged insanity of Victor Frankenstein. Groundbreaking, influential stuff.

[I learned, somewhat sadly, that Colin Clive, who played Doctor Frankenstein with memorable maniacal verve, was plagued with alcoholism throughout his life and died, at age 37, shortly after making this movie.]

And poor Frank! The monster, that is. So rejected, even by the hermit who only wanted a friend. Frankenstein plaintively – and not so plaintively – wailing “Friend!” “Friend!” as the hunters burn down the hermit’s shack. I thought this might get to Little One, but no, she thought it amusing. Sad, but amusing. It touched me a bit more, I think. The desire for a friend, for companionship, for fellowship, and later in terms of the “bride”, for love, is a fundamental drive found in the deepest depths of all our souls. Perhaps it hints that this reanimated hunk of dead flesh, perhaps, might have a soul, someway, somehow, too.

Then – the Bride. Two things struck me, one immediately and one in hindsight.

First, I was immediately surprised by her beauty. For years, based on one of my “Monsters of Hollywood” books I devoured as a kid, I had the impression of the Bride as an old fuddy-duddy. A cross between Ayn Rand and Bea Arthur. Probably that crazy hairdo did it, along with the grainy black-and-white photos I’d look at. Anyway, she was – if not ravishing – beautiful. Sure, there were stitches sewing on her face and that spider-web-y hair, but I was taken and pleasantly surprised by how youthful she looked.

And how she acted. Scared, disoriented, defensive. I later learned that Elsa Lancaster based the creature’s hisses and behavior on swans, which is an intriguing and highly imaginable vision. But I was impressed by the acting and the level of pathos it brought out in me, a viewer.

Second, as I thought about it, I was surprised that the Bride was only onscreen for five or so minutes. It was a powerful five minutes, and possibly that’s why the movie is great – that 15th round knockout punch. A lesser writer or director would have brought her in earlier. Though part of me wishes the evil doctors animated her a little sooner.

We liked it. I give it a solid A, and Little One concurs. ’Twas a great ninety minutes spent in another world.

On deck: It Came From Beneath the Sea …