he famous literary figures Lord Byron, Percy Shelley and Mary Shelley enjoy a
cozy evening at home while a thunderstorm rages outside. Byron praises Mary’s
recently completed but still unpublished novel, Frankenstein. Mary tells them
the story is still not finished, and resumes her narrative.
Both Dr. Henry Frankenstein and his unnamed creation survive their confrontation
at the burning mill. Frankenstein, thought dead, is revived by his fiancée’s touch.
The monster, thought dead, murders the parents of the little girl he accidentally
drowned in the first film. He stumbles into the countryside, lost and alone,
causing panic everywhere, pursued by mobs wherever he goes, committing several
murders out of sheer frustration and rage. Everybody screams at the sight of
him, including sheep. Too powerful to be caged by mere chains (though oddly
vulnerable to ropes), he escapes confinement in a dungeon only to find companionship
and fleeting happiness at the home of a blind hermit. But the outside world won’t
leave him alone, and he is soon homeless again.
Meanwhile, Dr. Henry Frankenstein swears off his arrogant experiments and promises
to marry his fiancée, Elizabeth. But, just when he thinks he’s out, his sinister old
philosophy teacher, Dr. Pretorius, pulls him back in. Pretorius, who has also divined
the secret of creating life, is determined to collaborate with Frankenstein on the
creation of a new monster. He lures Frankenstein by displaying his own creations, a
series of diminutive costumed humanoids that he keeps in jars. Though Frankenstein is
still reluctant, Pretorius will stop at nothing to gain Frankenstein’s aid.
Pretorius meets up with the now-embittered monster and promises to force Frankenstein
to create a suitable mate. When Frankenstein still refuses to help, Pretorius has the
monster kidnap and imprison Elizabeth. Frankenstein must cooperate with Pretorius
in order to save the woman he loves.
Frankenstein and Pretorius succeed in producing an artificial woman, whom they offer
to the first monster as a mate. The first monster loves her at first sight.
Unfortunately, like most men, they haven’t bothered to ask the lady’s
opinion.
A sequel that outdoes the original
James Whale’s The Bride of Frankenstein is frequently cited as one of the
rare cases of a sequel that improves on an already great original. Though hardly
frightening to modern audiences, and only vaguely reminiscent of the story told
by Mary Shelley, it deserves its reputation.
Though marked by imagination, humor and splendid art direction, the film’s
greatest asset is its characterization of the monster himself. Savage, grotesque
to the eye, still very recognizable as the corpse he once was, he is capable of
murderous rages that make him a danger to everybody around him. But he is also
a tragic figure in the classical sense of the word, in that, seen from the
perspective of an audience capable of following his entire journey, he
doesn’t seem like all that bad a guy. He sees a pretty shepherdess and
wants to make friends, but she screams at the sight of him; he comes across
children and makes reassuring noises, but they still flee in terror; he
meets a blind hermit, the only human being capable of showing him kindness,
and even there finds no respite from his tormentors. He even turns out to
be capable of learning. But humanity just won’t give him a chance. By the
time he learns to speak, and declares his rejection of the living
world ("I...love dead"), his monstrous behavior seems like the only
reasonable reaction to what he’s been through.
Boris Karloff acts the hell out of the part, too. Most of the film limits
his vocal output to plaintive whines punctuated by angry growls, but Karloff
makes it so expressive there’s no doubt where our loyalties should lie. Even
his rampages can only be seen as the tantrums of an overgrown child who cannot
find anybody to love him. He can’t be blamed for wanting Frankenstein to make
a mate for him. Unfortunately, true love is just not in the cards.
Colin Clive is less impressive as Frankenstein. He’s effective, but his acting
style seems pretentious to today’s eyes. Ernest Thesinger, who plays Dr. Pretorius,
is significantly better. He gives good evil. But Elsa Lanchester, who plays Mary
Shelley in the prologue, and who returns in the last few minutes as the monster’s
intended, is indelible. The monster’s betrothed is a caricature of femininity, who
moves in jerky birdlike twitches--she is beautiful and pathetic and grotesque at
the same time. Her unexpected reaction to her paramour is one of the all-time
great moments of fantasy and one of the all-time great moments of film. It
seems inevitable in retrospect, but, oh, how stunning and how heartbreaking
the first time you see it.
