Franchises: Universal's Frankenstein Series. Frankenstein (1931)

Universal's version of the Frankenstein monster is such a legendary, indelible icon that I can't even begin to tell you when I first saw an image of him. I know I saw bits of some of the 40's movies on TV when I was very young, one of which was probably the first horror movie I ever saw, but as for when I first saw an image of the Monster himself? Nothing. The fact that I can do that for other iconic monsters, from other Universal horrors to creatures like King Kong, Godzilla, and the shark in Jaws, speaks volumes as to how much this character design has permeated pop culture. All I can say is that I've known of him and what he looks like ever since I was that really, really little kid who loved monsters, the season of Halloween (yes, I did dress up as him one year,), and anything spooky. Throughout my early to mid childhood, as I read up on and heard about the classic monsters in library books and other sources (including that 2-XL toy robot I mentioned before), I learned various things about the story of Frankenstein, both the movies and the original novel. Besides the basic plot of the original movie, this one book I often checked out from the Monteagle public library was where I first learned about Mary Shelly, Boris Karloff, the Hammer movies (specifically The Curse of Frankenstein, the title of which really stood out to me), and also the fact that, despite what I might've thought, the monster himself wasn't named Frankenstein. So, by the time that "life-changing" weekend in October of 1998 came around, I already felt like I'd seen these movies many times and knew everything there was to know. However, that didn't make seeing the original Frankenstein early that Saturday any less of a revelation. It was the first Universal Horror that I saw from beginning to end, and I absolutely loved it. Most kids that age would probably get bored with it, especially nowadays, but I was totally enraptured and then some. Along with The Wolf Man, which I also saw for the first time that weekend, it became the Universal Horror I watched the most, as I got it on video early the next year. To this day, I would say that it probably is my favorite of all the movies we're going to be talking about this month, as well as just one of my favorites, period. If you've seen that list of my 101 Favorite Horror Films I did years ago, you'd know that I put Frankenstein at number two, just behind John Carpenter's The Thing. Well I'm going to have to severely update and overhaul that list one day, I seriously doubt that placement will change. I really do love this movie that much.

Robert Florey

With the enormous success of Dracula in February of 1931, Carl Laemmle Jr. was now able to produce the slate of horror films he'd been hoping for since becoming Universal's head of production. Frankenstein was the obvious follow-up, and like Dracula, the film that Universal would make was based partly on a stage play. Moreover it was another production that originated in England, was produced by Hamilton Deane (who also played the Monster in it), and was set to be revised for Broadway by John Balderston. Initially, it was to be directed by French-born Robert Florey, whose previous work was greatly influenced by German Expressionism, and Bela Lugosi was to star as Frankenstein's monster. But, while some of his concepts did influence the final film, Florey ultimately was taken off the project, along with Lugosi. Instead, the two of them did Murders in the Rue Morgue, where you can really see how much German Expressionism influenced Florey's direction.

The man who ultimately directed Frankenstein, James Whale, is a filmmaker who, along with Tod Browning, most certainly deserves to be placed among the ranks of the Masters of Horror, and perhaps more so than anyone else, as their respective films virtually created the modern horror film. At the time, Whale was most well-known in England as a stage director, designer, and occasional actor. His first major success was when he directed Journey's End on the stage, both in England and America, then followed it up with the 1930 film version. Waterloo Bridge, released in September of 1931, was his first film at Universal, where he would find a prosperous and fulfilling niche for himself over the next four to five years, as he was given an enormous amount of freedom by the Laemmles. Some sources claim that, since he'd brought Waterloo Bridge in drastically under budget, Whale was allowed to pick any project he wanted and decided on Frankenstein just to do something other than a war movie. However, according to the biography, James Whale: A New World of Gods and Monsters, Laemmle Jr. offered him Frankenstein and Whale, initially reluctant to take it on, became intrigued and excited about what he could do with it. Indeed, Whale is the one to credit for making the movie what it is, as he had the screenplay greatly overhauled, most significantly by making the monster a sympathetic character, as he was in the original novel and which hadn't been the case in the prior script. He also personally chose many of the actors, most significantly Boris Karloff and Colin Clive.

Since Colin Clive had starred in both the stage and film versions of Journey's End for Whale, he was the director's sole choice for the role of Dr. Henry Frankenstein. It's doubtful they could've known at the time that they were creating what would become the classic image and performance of a mad scientist. Seriously, everybody knows his classic line, "It's alive! It's alive!", and many know of the image of him in his white surgeon's smock, often with tussled, sweaty black hair. And yet, Frankenstein himself is not actually portrayed as insane here at all. Rather, he's overambitious and misguided, wanting to prove that he can solve the mystery of life and death. He may resort to grave-robbery, is overly secretive to where he completely shuts his loved ones out of his life, and becomes so excited when he's succeeded that he yells, "Now I know what it feels like to be God!", but he never tries to intentionally harm anyone, and his demeanor slowly changes when things start to go wrong. When Dr. Waldman informs him that the brain Fritz stole from his university was that of a dangerous criminal, it gives Frankenstein a moment of pause, as he glances at the door behind him, thinking of the possible ramifications. Still, he brushes it off, commenting, "Oh, well. After all, it's only a piece of dead tissue," no doubt in the delusional thinking we all have in that, if we don't think about the problem, it'll go away. He remains confident, intending to experiment further, and gets his chance when the Monster wanders into the room. Frankenstein is quite happy when he reacts and understands what he tells him, but things go south when the Monster becomes frightened and violent when Fritz comes in with a torch. Once the Monster is locked down in the watchtower's cellar, the gravity of what he's done truly hits Frankenstein, his demeanor changing to one of shame and horror as he tells Fritz to just leave the Monster alone. And when Fritz is killed and the Monster is now totally out of control, Frankenstein feels genuine regret and reluctantly aids Waldman in subduing him, even though he thinks killing him would be murder. The strain of all this proves too much for him, as he collapses when Elizabeth and his father come to see him, moaning deliriously about what happened to Fritz.

Though initially reluctant to allow Elizabeth and Baron Frankenstein to take him home, once he does so and spends time with his beloved fiancee, whom he neglected for so long, Frankenstein becomes happier than he's been in a long time. He decides to put his experiments behind him and look forward to the life he'll have with Elizabeth, but, unfortunately, on their wedding day, his past returns to haunt him when the Monster kills Dr. Waldman, escapes the watchtower, and roams the countryside, eventually finding his way to his house and attacking and badly frightening Elizabeth. With the village also in an uproar over the drowning of little Maria, Frankenstein decides he must confront and destroy his creation before he can hope to have a normal life. He leads one of the three hunting parties gathered to track him down, but while searching the mountains, he becomes separated from the group and comes face-to-face with the Monster. By this point, he's gotten over his fear of torches and knocks Frankenstein unconscious and carries him up to an old windmill. There, Frankenstein regains consciousness and tries to escape, only for the Monster to grab him and throw him off the top of the mill. Fortunately for him, one of the mill's vanes breaks his fall and he's taken back home, injured but alive, and the movie's final scene shows him being nursed back to health by Elizabeth.

As awesome as Colin Clive is, though, and despite his top-billing, what everyone remembers is the Frankenstein monster, played by the great Boris Karloff and wearing the incredible makeup created by Jack Pierce. Seriously, what can you say about this design other than it's an immortal icon? Even if you've never seen a single one of these movies, it's impossible to hear the name "Frankenstein" and not think of Karloff's tall, flat-headed monster, with the bolts in his neck, stitches on various parts of his body, clamps on his head, and his dark costume and big, heavy boots. And what's especially amazing is that Pierce created that face using simple materials like cotton, collodion, and spirit-gum, as well as green greasepaint for the skin tone and fake eyelids made of mortician's wax, while Karloff himself had a dental ridge removed so he could suck in his cheek and create an indentation on one side of his face. Exactly who came up with the design is up to debate, as some sources will say it was Pierce, while others say it was James Whale, based on a role he himself played on the British stage, and there's even some evidence that it was a holdover from the original version that was to be directed by Robert Florey, as Florey's script is said to have contained a sketch similar to the ultimate monster (though, whether or not that sketch was made when Bela Lugosi was put through his original makeup screen test is unclear). Regardless of whose baby it was, its impact was nothing less than earth-shattering.

But what truly makes the Monster a great character is Karloff's performance. From the moment you first see him, when he walks into the lab, he seems confused and unsure, even by the sound of his own footsteps, as he enters the room backwards, seemingly unable to figure where the sound is coming from. He doesn't initially come across as threatening. In fact, he obeys Frankenstein the way a young, curious child would his father, coming into the room and sitting down in a chair when he's told to. Then, in a moment that serves as a great example of Karloff's prowess at pantomime, Frankenstein opens the shutter on the ceiling and the Monster notices the light and tries to touch it, again in a moment of childlike innocence and wonder. When the light is shut out, the Monster turns to Frankenstein and makes a gesture with his hands, as if he wants his "father" to embrace him, and when Frankenstein instead tells him to sit back down, he does so, but continues making that gestures, obviously desiring affection. But then, Fritz bursts in with a torch and the Monster turns violent out of fear. He gets up and backs away, swiping at the air and moaning in terror, and even though Frankenstein tells Fritz to get away, he doesn't relent and the Monster attacks. They're forced to subdue him, chain his hands, and lock him up in the cellar, further ensuring his distrust of people. This leads to his killing the ever-sadistic Fritz and attempting to do the same to Frankenstein and Waldman. Of course, we can assume another reason why the Monster is violent is due to the abnormal brain that was mistakenly sewn into his skull, and that brings up an interesting question: is the soul and personality of that criminal coming through the Monster? If so, does that mean he wasn't really a bad man but just a frightened and confused one who only knew how to react with violence? Or does the Monster have his own soul and doesn't want to hurt anyone, but can't keep these violent tendencies from coming through when he's frightened or angry?

Though they manage to sedate him when he tries to kill Frankenstein, the Monster eventually awakens and kills Dr. Waldman before he can dissect him. He escapes the watchtower, leading to the movie's most iconic scene, aside from the creation: his encounter with little Maria at the lakeside. He's fascinated by her the moment he sees her and she, in return, is the first person, other than Frankenstein initially, who doesn't treat him with revulsion, contempt, or fear. When she hands him one of the flowers she's picked, the smile that comes across his face is one of pure, genuine benevolence, and when he's emitting these childlike laughs of delight when they're throwing the flowers into the lake and watching them float, you can't help but feel happy for him. But when he runs out of flowers, he naively throws the girl into the lake, expecting her to float as well, and when she drowns, the look on his face shows that he knows he's done something wrong and he runs off in a panic. He eventually ends up at the village of Goldstadt and the house of Frankenstein, finding his way into Elizabeth's room and approaching her in a menacing fashion (which, as I'll get into later, feels somewhat out of character). Her screams appear to enrage him and, while you don't see what happens, the loud sound of a struggle is heard from outside the room. When Frankenstein and the others come to her rescue, the room is in total disarray, Elizabeth has fainted, and the Monster has escaped. That leads into the climax, where the search parties follow the Monster's trail up into the mountains, where he confronts his creator, knocks him unconscious, and carries him up to the windmill, where the mob traps him. He doesn't let Frankenstein escape without a fight, lunging for him when he tries to climb down the ladder, chasing him out onto the exterior platform, and throwing him off the mill. This seals the Monster's fate, though, as the villagers set fire to the mill and, in his panic, he becomes trapped by a falling beam.

Mae Clarke was another actor whom James Whale had worked with before, on Waterloo Bridge, and so, he cast her as Elizabeth. Though completely devoted to Frankenstein, she worries about his health and state of mind when he disappears for months on end to devote himself to his experiments, growing all the more worried when she receives a letter from him that details how he's living at an old, abandoned watchtower near Goldstadt. After going with Victor Moritz to speak with Dr. Waldman, and learning of Frankenstein's ultimate goal of reanimating the dead, she and the men go to see him. They just happen to come on the night when Frankenstein is preparing to bring his creation to life, and when she fails to convince him to leave the lab and return home with her, she, Victor, and Waldman stay to witness his success. She and Victor try to convince Frankenstein's father, the Baron, that his son is well but very busy to keep him from making inquiries, but Elizabeth ends up going to the tower with him when he becomes convinced there's another woman. Neither of them see the Monster, which Frankenstein, Victor, and Waldman hide away, but Elizabeth is horrified when Frankenstein collapses in front of her, and she and the Baron decide it's time for him to come home. She and Frankenstein begin spending every waking moment together and plan their wedding. But when the big day arrives, Elizabeth, be it through woman's intuition or what have you, has an uneasy feeling that something isn't quite right and that their life together may be threatened by some outside force she can't put her finger on. Her intuition proves to be very true when the Monster enters the village, sneaks into the house, finds his way into her room, and attacks her. Though Elizabeth is more badly frightened than injured, the episode is enough to make Frankenstein decide he must hunt down and destroy his creation to ensure the safety of his loved ones.

One character who's so superfluous that he disappears completely before the climax and is never even mentioned in the sequel is Victor Moritz (John Boles), a mutual friend of both Henry Frankenstein and Elizabeth. He's characterized as a decent guy and all, but he honestly doesn't have much to do in the story. The only real thing of substance to him is his obvious affection and love for Elizabeth, despite her engagement to Frankenstein, and it's only brought up once early on, when he and Elizabeth are talking about Frankenstein's erratic behavior. Elizabeth tells Victor she's fond of him, to which he responds, "I wish you were." Elizabeth becomes uncomfortable and Victor immediately drops it and never brings it up again, showing that he does know his boundaries. Other than that, he shows the same sort of concern for Frankenstein, whom he says he recently met in the woods one night, adding that when he asked, Frankenstein told him no one is allowed at his laboratory. Victor is the one who suggests they talk to Dr. Waldman to get a better handle on what's going on and, upon learning the scope of Frankenstein's ambitions and seeing his behavior when they go to the watchtower, Victor accuses him of being crazy, before witnessing the animation of his creation. For a while, he's the only one other than Frankenstein and Waldman who sees the Monster after he's been brought to life. He walks in on them after they've subdued the Monster to warn Frankenstein that Elizabeth and the Baron are on their way up, and helps the two of them hide him. Later, he tells Frankenstein that Waldman has been found murdered and the Monster has been seen in the countryside. Before the climax, he's left to look after Elizabeth, while Frankenstein joins in the hunt for the Monster, and is never seen again.

Having just played Prof. Van Helsing in Dracula, Edward Van Sloan brings a similar sort of authority, gravitas, and voice of reason to his role here of Dr. Waldman, Frankenstein's former professor at the Goldstadt Medical University. His first appearance is when he's teaching a class, describing the differences between a healthy brain and the abnormal brain of a murderer, but his first significant scene is when Elizabeth and Victor come to him to inquire about Frankenstein. He tells them that, while he thinks Frankenstein is brilliant, he's troubled by the direction his research has taken, believing it to have reached a very dangerous state. He adds that, before he left the university, Frankenstein began demanding other cadavers than those they typically use for dissection and electric experiments, and didn't care how they acquired them. That was the last straw for Waldman. He told Frankenstein he was being unreasonable and thus, he left. Waldman clarifies to them that Frankenstein's ultimate goal is to bring to life a dead human being, which he calls a "mad dream." Initially, he's reluctant to accompany them to visit Frankenstein at his lab, saying he's no longer his pupil, but Elizabeth's imploring talks him into it. When they arrive at the watchtower on the fateful night and are led up to the lab, Waldman is immediately curious as to what Frankenstein is up to, inspecting the body, though Frankenstein and Fritz stop him. Frankenstein then tells him that he's discovered a powerful ray which he believes first created the spark of life in the world, and that he plans to use it to bring to life the body he has on the gurney. Waldman is skeptical, not believing that Frankenstein can bring a dead creature back to life, but he's then shown that the body has never even lived, as it's something he himself cobbled together. The three of them then watch as Frankenstein harnesses the power of the storm gathering above them and succeeds in bringing the creature to life.

Now, Waldman is genuinely concerned for Frankenstein, dreading what may happen as a result of his experiment. He warns him of the danger, telling him that the brain Fritz stole was that of a criminal and that his "monster" will destroy him. When the Monster stumbles into the room while they're talking, and Frankenstein gets him to do what he says, Waldman is on the edge of his seat, just waiting for the Monster to lash out. Again, he does just that when Fritz comes in with a torch and frightens him. Waldman and Frankenstein are forced to restrain him and imprison him down in the cellar, only for the Monster to kill Fritz when he goes on tormenting him. He comes for them next, and Waldman talks Frankenstein into subduing the Monster so they can kill him, coming up with a plan of injecting him with an anesthetic when they open the door and he lunges for Frankenstein. Though the two of them get banged up in the ensuing struggle, they manage to sedate the Monster and hide him before Elizabeth and Baron Frankenstein arrive. When Frankenstein collapses from exhaustion and his father decides to take him home, Waldman assures him that he'll destroy the Monster himself. But just as he's about to dissect him, the Monster awakens from sedation, reaches his hand up behind Waldman, and strangles him.

An interesting thing about Frankenstein is the way it opens. Edward Van Sloan, out of character, emerges from behind a curtain to give a warning to the audience: "How do you do? Mr. Carl Laemmle feels it would be a little unkind to present this picture without just a word of friendly warning: We are about to unfold the story of Frankenstein, a man of science who sought to create a man after his own image, without reckoning upon God. It is one of the strangest tales ever told. It deals with the two great mysteries of creation: life and death. I think it will thrill you. It may shock you. It might even horrify you. So, if any of you feel that you do not care to subject your nerves to such a strain, now's your chance to uh, well, we warned you." It makes for a nice example of 1930's showmanship, and it's akin to a coda that Van Sloan filmed for the ending of Dracula, where he warned the audience that vampires are real. But, unlike Frankenstein's opening, that epilogue, although it does still exist in some form, has never been restored and added back into any home media releases of Dracula.

Another actor from the cast of Dracula, Dwight Frye, appears here as Fritz, the hunchbacked assistant, equally as memorable and strange as his iconic role of Renfield. Speaking of iconic, like so many other things in this film, Frye's appearance would set the standard for all misshapen assistants in mad doctor movies. (It's also interesting how so many people would assume he's called Igor, which has become the stereotypical name for hunchback assistants, even though a character named "Ygor" wouldn't appear until Son of Frankenstein and would have a broken neck rather than a hunchback). Fritz may not be as complex a character as Renfield, but Frye does what he can with it and what he does is brilliant. He's quite loyal to Frankenstein, even seeming to share his master's enthusiasm for the experiment (I always smile when they're removing the coffin from the grave at the beginning and Fritz excitedly says, "Here he comes!"), making one wonder if Frankenstein pays him well or if he just really likes his job. Famously, it's Fritz's fault that the wrong brain goes into the Monster's skull. What's funny is that the book I often read as a kid said he couldn't read and didn't know what the jars' labels said, whereas in the actual film, when he's startled by a loud sound and drops the good brain, he panics and grabs whatever he can as a replacement (you also have to wonder why Frankenstein himself never saw the label that read "ABNORMAL" on the jar himself). He's also quite funny at certain points, such as when he walks down the stairs to answer the door for Elizabeth, Victor, and Waldman, muttering under his breath about how they've got too much to do, single-mindedly tells them to leave even when they say who it is, and stops to pull up his sock on his way back up. However, Fritz is revealed to have quite a sadistic side when he realizes the Monster is afraid of fire. He snarls at him while brandishing the torch when he first bursts into the lab as Frankenstein is trying to communicate with him, adding to his fright, and continues to torment him with both the torch and a whip when he's imprisoned down in the cellar. Even when Frankenstein tells him to stop, he doesn't relent, and ultimately pays for his cruelty with his life, as the Monster hangs him (the death scream you hear him let out is really horrific).

Frankenstein's father, Baron Frankenstein (Frederick Kerr), at first comes off as a blowhard bully who wants his son to live the way he wants him to and forget about being a scientist. In fact, he finds science to be so uninteresting that he feels his son, rather than spending all his time in an old watchtower (he mistakenly calls it a windmill), has actually found another woman. He's also rather impatient and dickish towards the poor Burgomaster, Herr Vogel, who's only doing his job when he comes by to ask when Frankenstein and Elizabeth's wedding will be. And when Vogel describes Henry Frankenstein as, "The very image of his father," the Baron grumbles, "Heaven forbid," as if he doesn't want to be compared with his son while he's caught up in his "ridiculous" experiments. And yet, as jerky as he acts in his first scene, it's impossible to hate the Baron, as he's often funny in how he's so full of hot air, especially when he and Elizabeth go up to the watchtower and he becomes impatient when he doesn't get an answer from his knocking, angrily drawing the end of his cane up and down across the door. Then, when Victor lets him in and he sees his expression after he's seen the Monster, the Baron comments, "Well what's the matter with you? You look as though you've been kicked by a horse." But when he finds his son has fainted in the lab, the Baron quickly rushes to his aid and has the others bring him something to drink, showing that he really does care about his well-being. Once Frankenstein has recovered and plans to marry Elizabeth, the Baron acts is a very happy host on their wedding day. He shows his son the band of flowers he used when he married his own wife thirty years before, asking him to do the same with Elizabeth. He then adds that, hopefully, thirty years in the future, their own son will carry on the tradition. He also tells a story about his grandmother not letting his grandfather drink the vintage wine they partake in, though he still proves to be a bit of a snob about it, as he tells a butler to give the servants some champagne, saying, "This stuff's wasted on them." He does this same thing at the end of the movie, when the maids offer Frankenstein some of the wine while he's recovering from his injuries but the Baron decides his son doesn't need it and drinks it himself, making the same toast he did before: "Here's to a son of the house of Frankenstein."

Little Maria (Marilyn Harris) is probably the most poignant and heartbreaking character in the whole film, given how she wasn't at all scared by the Monster when she met him, instead treating him with genuine affection, which he did reciprocate. She just wanted someone to play with while her father was off working in the woods and befriended this strange man, showing him how to throw flowers in the water and make them float. But then, when he runs out of flowers, the Monster picks her up and throws her into the water, thinking she'll float as well, an innocent but tragic mistake that seals his fate. You also feel really bad for Ludwig (Francis Ford), Maria's father, who clearly adored his little girl, and you can only imagine what he went through when he came back to find her drowned, especially since they were planning to go into the village and have some fun during the wedding celebration (though, the possibility of murder aside, leaving a young child alone near a lake isn't great parenting, especially when she obviously can't swim). The shot of him carrying her limp body through the village, a completely shattered expression on his face, is still gut-wrenching, as is his choked up voice when he speaks to the Burgomaster. Said Burgomaster, Herr Vogel (Lionel Belmore), spends most of the movie coming off as rather jolly and excited about the anticipated wedding, but when Ludwig brings Maria to him, he very much sympathizes with him and intends to see that her murderer is brought to justice, as he leads one of the three parties that hunt the Monster down.

As I've already said way too many times, Frankenstein, like Tod Browning's Dracula, is, without a doubt, one of the most influential movies ever made, perhaps even more so, as many more people know this version of the story than they do Mary Shelly's novel (which I have read, by the way, and do recommend). Whenever you visualize a mad scientist creating a monster in a laboratory that's filled with all sorts of electrical devices, such as sparking Tesla coils and loud, humming generators, the monster lying on a gurney with a sheet covering his body, and a hunchbacked assistant, you can trace it all the way back to the creation scene here. Also, the concept of Frankenstein's monster having a brain literally sewn into his head and then brought to life by lightning comes from this, whereas the novel left the details of the Monster's creation very vague. The scene between the Monster and Maria by the lake is just as iconic and etched in the minds of people as the creation scene (I can remember seeing a Twix commercial that parodied it), and while The Phantom of the Opera featured a prototype of it during its climax, this is also truly the birthplace of the classic image of the angry, torch-wielding mob hunting down the Monster, as well as a windmill being set on fire in an attempt to burn the Monster alive. And then, of course, there are the aforementioned performances of both Colin Clive and Boris Karloff, as well as the design of the Monster which, again, has become the everlasting image of the character in the public imagination, along with so many other elements from this movie.

The film is a true technical marvel in many ways. It's very well shot by cinematographer Arthur Edeson, who effectively uses light and shadow to create atmosphere and mood, be it creepy interiors and gloomy, overcast exterior scenes, as well as bright, sunny, and pleasant scenes, both inside and out. Significantly, you don't see the latter until quite a while into the film, specifically when Frankenstein has left his work behind, as if to signify his return to his real life, only for the end result of his time in the shadows to begin invading and creeping into it. As you can see, the cinematography also greatly enhances the sets by art director Charles D. Hall, with Whale and Edeson making sure they show them off in all their glory every chance they get. Taken on their own merits, in addition to how iconic they are, the sets are simply fantastic and positively dripping with the air of the Gothic and German Expressionism. The most memorable one, obviously, is the laboratory Frankenstein has built inside the old watchtower, which has an especially Expressionist look in how it's an enormous room, both wide and tall, filled with all sorts of memorable electrical equipment courtesy of Kenneth Strickfaden, as well as the memorable gurney the Monster is placed on, which rises up to the roof and has an enormous apparatus hanging above it that draws the lightning down into him. Just as cool and classic are the winding, stone staircase in the center of the watchtower and the dungeon-like cellar that the monster is imprisoned in. Another great one is the graveyard where the film opens and where Frankenstein and Fritz dig up the body. That is about as Gothic as you can get, with the cross-shaped grave-markers and the statues in the background (one of which is the Grim Reaper), and though you can tell it is a set, with a backdrop for the sky, the artificiality actually adds to it, giving it an almost storybook, alternate reality quality that I really like and which I've also heard was kind of what Whale intended for the film. The same goes for the gallows where they cut down the hanged man and the sets representing the mountains where the mob chases down the monster (though a bit of that was actual location shooting). The windmill makes for a great image just as much as it does a setting, with its dark silhouette up against the overcast night sky, and the interior, with all of its winding, wooden gears, is, again, something you've seen copied in countless Gothic horror movies throughout the years. Even the interiors of Dr. Waldman's academy and his office have a creep factor to them, as they're not only often darkly lit, especially the operating theater when Fritz breaks in, but filled with objects like skulls, skeletons, cadavers, brains in jars, and anatomy drawings, among others.

The more pleasant-looking and less creepy sets are no less impressive, such as the interiors of Elizabeth and Frankenstein's respective homes, which are both big, wealthy houses and are very impressive due to their sheer scope. Though you don't get to see much of the house of Frankenstein, aside from the main foyer and the room where Elizabeth waits for the wedding to begin, I like how, when they're searching for the Monster, you see that the place has plenty of rooms for him to hide in, some of which are totally empty, likely because the house's sheer size has left them neglected and forgotten, while others appear to be used for storage. The village streets of Goldstadt, built on the Universal backlot, are another aspect of the movie that have often been repeated in various others (and while the exact setting is never made clear, some of the villagers' clothing and the dances they perform during the wedding celebration do point to Germany). And then, there's the one major example of location footage, the lakeside (specifically, Malibou Lake in Agoura), complete with the modest hut where Maria and her father live, which is just a very appealing little spot and nicely suits the fateful encounter between Maria and the Monster.

Apart from Boris Karloff's makeup, you wouldn't think of Frankenstein as being a special effects heavy film, but there are a handful of such shots that do warrant some attention. One of them is a nice-looking miniature of the watchtower and the ridge it sits atop, which is used in its establishing shot, as rain pours down on it while lightning flashes in the sky. Similarly, when the camera pans up from Elizabeth, Victor, and Dr. Waldman banging on the tower's door to show Frankenstein appearing in the window high above them, there's a simple but effective use of screen projection. Speaking of screen projection, there's a lot of it in the climax at the windmill to put the villagers, who appear to have been filmed on location, in the same frame as the mill, which was a setpiece. And when the monster throws Frankenstein off the mill and he gets caught on one of the vanes, it's obvious they used a little ragdoll and a miniature windmill but, fortunately, they don't hold on it very long.

The opening credits sequence is very memorably stylized and strange, looking nothing like the credits of many, or any, other movies made at the time, horror or otherwise (this would go on to be a trend for the opening credits to James Whale's other movies). Not only is the title card wonderfully evocative and mysterious, with a half-hidden, monstrous face with beams of light coming out of the eyes, and a pair of clawed hands down below it, but the credits themselves appear over the image of a vague face, surrounded by a twirling kaleidoscope of eyes. I have no clue what this is supposed to mean in context with the story but it's definitely distinctive and not something you're likely to forget.

As much as I did praise his direction in my review of Dracula, I've always felt that James Whale was simply a better filmmaker than Tod Browning, especially amazing considering how, unlike Browning, he started out as a stage director. For one, while Browning didn't do much with the camera and editing in Dracula, Whale not only moves the camera quite a bit but also really experiments with both it and the editing, and some of the stuff he came up with was quite unique for the time. One of his most notable uses of the camera is the very long and almost unbroken tracking shot that follows a shocked Ludwig carrying Maria's body through the village, which is not only remarkable from a technical standpoint but is very effective dramatically, as you see how each and every person he passes by stops celebrating when they realize what's happened, until everyone is whipped up into an angry riot. Another example that's always stuck with me ever since I first saw the movie, and which I don't ever hear anyone talk about, is the moment in the mill where Frankenstein and the Monster look at each other through a turning gear, with the film quickly cutting between their respective POVs. There are also moments where Whale pushes the camera past the edge of the wall to another part of the set, a holdover from his old love of the theater and which some may not see as great filmmaking but I think is actually a nice little touch and something Whale would do again and again throughout his career (there's a moment where he does it in The Invisible Man, however, that is quite distracting, as he shows far past the edges of the set). As for the editing, you have the odd opening to the scene introducing Elizabeth and Victor where, instead of an establishing shot, you have four closeups in rapid succession (a picture of Henry Frankenstein, a maid telling Elizabeth that Victor has arrived, Victor entering the room, and Elizabeth standing to greet him), before finally getting a wide shot revealing that you're now in Elizabeth's house. And then, there's the moment where you first see the Monster's face, which goes from a shot of him turning and looking at the camera, to a close-up of his face and an even tighter one where his face fills up almost the entire frame, which likely freaked a lot of people out at the time, particularly with how dead Karloff's eyes look in the latter shots.

As with Dracula, there's no music score in Frankenstein, save for the opening credits (composed by Bernhard Kaun, it's actually not a bad little piece, starting out as big and monstrous, but ending on an otherworldly, mysterious note) and the cast list at the end. But while Dracula had a number of instances where it was virtually a silent film, Frankenstein is almost never without sound. Indeed, while Browning didn't seem to know how to work in the then new medium, Whale all but stretched it to its limits. He does it not only in overt ways, such as the crackling thunder, the sounds of the machines in Frankenstein's laboratory, and the loud pounding of the dirt as it's pushed onto the coffin at the beginning (achieved by putting a microphone down in the grave), but in instances of effective subtlety. One of the best is when Frankenstein and Waldman are talking in the lab, when they hear the Monster's approaching footsteps in the hallway, prompting Frankenstein to turn out the lights so as not to startle him. It's effectively unnerving to hear the loud clomping get closer and closer, as Frankenstein and Waldman prepare themselves for when he enters the room. Another good one is later, on the day of the wedding, when, after hearing of Waldman's death and having locked Elizabeth in her room, Frankenstein and the others hear the Monster growling somewhere nearby and search every corner of the house but are unable to find him. (That said, though, I've never understood why, no matter where they search, the Monster's growls never grow louder or fainter. Is he able to throw his voice, or do they just  really suck at finding him?) The sound of the constantly ringing church-bell and the sobbing mourners at the grave-site add all the more to the somber and gloomy feel to that opening scene, and the juxtaposition of the cheerful dancing and singing and the horrific sight of Ludwig carrying Maria's body is still unsettling even now.

Working in the "Pre-Code" era of Hollywood, Whale was able to expose audiences to things they hadn't really experienced yet, like the aforementioned pounding dirt, the closeups of a cadaver's feet in one shot, shots of brains in jars, a closeup of a syringe being jammed into the Monster's back, and so forth. This is stuff you wouldn't even think about nowadays but, in 1931, it made a lot of people really uncomfortable, Even today, there's something skin-crawling about some of it (the cadaver's feet have always made me shiver a little bit), especially just the very idea of Frankenstein creating the Monster by stitching together various body parts and Dr. Waldman preparing to kill the Monster by dissecting him, the latter of which comes with a big, wide shot of the surgical instruments he's about to use. It's not nearly as unsettling as some of the stuff you'd see in the Hammer Frankenstein films, especially The Curse of Frankenstein and other really grim ones, like Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed, but it still has a bit of an edge to it, especially when compared to some of the movies made after the Production Code went into full force just a few years later.

Speaking of the movie's content, this is a rare instance where we're lucky to be able to see the complete movie that was originally released in 1931. When it was reissued in 1938, a couple of moments, particularly the Monster throwing Maria into the lake and Henry Frankenstein's line, "Now I know what it feels like to be God!", were censored. These had actually been removed by several state censorship boards during the original release, but after 1938, the cut version was the only one seen in

theaters and on television... that is, until the 1980's, when the movie was completely restored. While every version I've seen, including the old VHS from the early 90's that I had for a long time, had the footage of him picking Maria up and throwing her into the water, as well as him running off in a panic afterward, the "God" line was still censored for a little while, with a thunderclap covering it up. I was eventually able to hear it when the film played on TV in the late 90's and early 2000's, but I didn't own a version with it until I bought the Legacy DVD set in 2004.

Because James Whale was a gay man, and open one at that, even during the conservative time in which he lived, a lot of people have attempted to find a gay subtext within many of his films. When it comes to Frankenstein, it's supposedly present in how Henry Frankenstein himself is trying to create life without the aid of a woman, with some even saying that his line that he made the Monster, "With my own hands," alludes to masturbation, as well as him grafting and sewing the body parts

together. A more blatant reading has been that the depiction of the Monster as a despised and persecuted outsider mirrors the prejudice towards homosexuals and how Whale must have drawn on his own experiences in expressing it. But in James Whale: A New World of Gods and Monsters, author James Curtis notes that there is no evidence that Whale ever felt that way about himself. Moreover, Whale's longtime friend and partner, David Lewis, always contended that he never set out to imbue his

movies with a gay agenda, despite the fact that he and some of the actors he tended to work with were gay. However, it is suggested that Whale may have identified with Frankenstein's own "creative" struggle, considering how he himself came from a poor, working class family, fought in World War I and wound in a prison camp, and worked his butt off to overcome his past and even distance himself from it as much as he could. Also, his artistic and dramatic inclinations were seen as bizarre and often mocked by his peers and siblings. According

to film historians, Whale himself may have written the speech Frankenstein gives to Waldman about his ambitions: "Where should we be if no one tried to find out what lies beyond? Have you never wanted to look beyond the clouds and the stars, or to know what causes the trees to bud, and what changes a darkness into light? But if you talk like that, people call you crazy. Well, if I could discover just one of these things, what eternity is, for example, I wouldn't care if they did think I was crazy." According to Paul M. Jensen in the documentary, The Frankenstein Files: How Hollywood Made A Monster, that speech wasn't in the shooting script and he figures Whale must've really wanted it in the film.

According to Reynold Humphries in his essay on Frankenstein in 101 Horror Movies You Must See Before You Die, the film is rather progressive in how it depicts Frankenstein as going against the grain of society and what his family expects of him. Sure enough, as I mentioned earlier, while Baron Frankenstein is, in the end, a likable character, he is horribly snide and dismissive about his son's experiments, to the point where he doesn't want the Burgomaster to make any comparison

between them. It's only when Frankenstein gives up his work and decides to marry Elizabeth that the Baron becomes doting and happy, and while Frankenstein himself is clearly happy and genuinely wants to marry Elizabeth, there is a bit of sadness in how, because of how his experiment turned out, he's turned his back on his passions and is now doing what's expected of him. And speaking of what's expected, Humphries talks about how the Monster's inherent innocence is never once considered by the torch-wielding villagers. To them, especially Maria's father, her drowning was no accident and the Monster is a cold-hearted murderer who must be dealt with.

As much as it's lauded and recognized for the classic that it is, there are many who feel that Frankenstein doesn't measure up to Whale's later horror films, especially the much beloved Bride of Frankenstein. While Whale's technical sophistication, both in the filmmaking and editing, and the characters and acting, for the most part, go unquestioned, it's often felt that the movie doesn't have the distinct personality he would imbue his later films with. Sure enough, while The Old Dark

House, The Invisible Man, and Bride of Frankenstein are remembered for their quirkiness and humor, some of it being rather dark, Frankenstein is told in a more straightforward fashion, with the only humor coming from the scene between the Baron and the Burgomaster, as well as the Baron's impatient grumbling at the watchtower. There are also none of the oddball actors like Una O'Connor, Ernest Thesiger, or E.E. Clive who would later contribute to those movies'

bizarre tones. While I personally think the movie works just fine without those more familiar elements, I can offer up an opinion about their absence. First, Whale still hadn't made many movies at this point, and this was also his first horror film, so he was still likely finding his footing and voice. Also, while Carl Laemmle Jr. did very much respect him, Whale hadn't yet become the studio's star director, with the amount of creative freedom he would have on later films. This can be seen in the prologue with Edward Van

Sloan, which was shot long after principal photography, likely by someone other than Whale, and also in how, following a bad test screening, the ending was changed from Frankenstein dying after being thrown off the windmill to that final scene of him recovering from his injuries (albeit in the background, as Colin Clive was unavailable and they had to use a stand-in). While Whale himself did shoot the revised ending, I don't think he was particularly fond of it, as it does feel tacked on, and thus, he ignored it when he made Bride, to the point where that movie's opening scenes effectively replace it.

There are also some curious continuity errors within the plot, such as when Victor tells Frankenstein that Dr. Waldman has been murdered. The question is, "Who found his body?", as that watchtower has long since been abandoned and nobody seems to go up there if they don't have to. Speaking of which, during the first scene with Baron Frankenstein, he, as I mentioned before, calls the building a "windmill," which could be due to a last minute change in the script, as Frankenstein's laboratory was originally meant to be in the windmill used in the climax. Also, Ludwig says that Maria was murdered, but how does he know that, seeing as how he didn't actually see it? All he would be sure of is that she drowned. Again, this is due to a change from an earlier version of the script, where Maria's mother, who was completely removed from the finished film (though she does appear briefly in Bride of Frankenstein), was in the house and saw everything happen through the window. Honestly, I never thought about any of this until various people pointed it out in documentaries and even then, it doesn't hurt the film for me at all. However, this does lead me to a moment that, while it still doesn't bother me too much, is slightly problematic. After Frankenstein locks Elizabeth in her room to keep her safe when Victor comes to tell him about Dr. Waldman, the Monster sneaks in through the window and attacks her. First, why would he just sneak into one random room, having no idea who's in there? Second, he acts rather threatening towards her and seems to physically hurt her in some manner, making him seem more wantonly violent and sinister than he had been up to this point. We don't see what happened, so maybe he didn't really hurt her and she just fainted and knocked something over, causing the loud crash we hear when Frankenstein and the others come running, but I find it odd that the Monster went straight into being violent rather than first being curious, as he was with Maria (it could be an effect of his criminal brain, coupled with everything else he's been through since he was brought to life).

Small plotholes, continuity errors, certain wooden characters, and the lack of James Whale's familiar flair aside, Frankenstein is definitely one of the best horror movies ever made. While its influence is unquestionable, it's also just a really good, well made movie, with inspired and ingenious direction from a great filmmaker, plenty of great performances, especially from Boris Karloff and Colin Clive, superb art direction and atmospheric cinematography, interesting instances of experimental camerawork and editing, good use of the then new medium of sound, and so many setpieces and scenes that speak for themselves in how iconic they are. I've probably spent way too much of this review going into and reiterating the movie's place in popular culture but it's really hard not to do so when you're talking about something like this, which has a reputation that will always precede it. I'll just end by saying that if you, somehow, have never seen this film, that is a big mistake you need to rectify post-haste, especially if you consider yourself a horror fan.