100 Movies Every Catholic Should See #127: Frankenstein (1931)

Directed by James Whale. Starring Boris Karloff.

In a recent deep dive interview (an albeit silly interview, at that), Christoph Waltz was asked about his thoughts on Mary Shelley’s “Frankenstein”. Having never read the book prior to his taking up a role in Del Toro’s newest adaptation, Waltz admitted to having read the book over and taking great admiration in Shelley’s incredible insight of the human experience given her extremely young age. Saying little more for the story, he mentions but only one line which exalts Shelley’s young brilliance, a comparison which he paraphrases as thus: “What he [the creature/monster] expected from being alive, and the discrepancy to his experience.”

This line, perfectly embodied by the story, is also tragically reflected in James Whale’s 1931 adaptation of Frankenstein. The themes and questions throughout this film are rich, asking what it means to have been created and more so what it means to have been given life. As disturbing as it may be to watch this creature struggle in a way so cruel, we still feel connected to this creature simply because we too have been given life. Dr. Frankenstein screams out (in a remarkably fervent performance by Colin Clive), “Now I know what it is like to be God,” and yet we watch him fail to take up the role of being God. He had manipulated the elements provided by God to create an imitation of life, and even still after having created what he calls a monster, he has no power or control over it. The film makes the audience consider how God perceives his own creations. Man holds so much disdain for its own creations, and yet God is said to be loving and devoted to guiding all of his creations back to him.

Even though the events of Shelley’s story, as well as its publication, predate the full force of the industrial revolution, there is something to be said from this film on how man treats its own creations. Frankenstein’s monster represents the embodied monstrosities of man’s curiosity, and our sudden disinterest once something has been created, a goal has been met, or even our inability to contain a creation once we have conjured it into being; like Adam and Eve eating the forbidden fruit, with only thoughts of the present, and no concern for the aftermath of their decisions. Frankenstein coincides with man’s searches for the impossible, and yet this story allows man to have his wishes. It grants man his goals and through this story reveals to him that he is incapable of having the privilege of being a creator of impossibilities. In the years to follow Shelley’s publishing of “Frankenstein”, the world would be met with all kinds of newer goals; faster speeds, taller buildings, better medicines, transportation via the sky, and always more powerful weapons. Yet, with each innovation, arose countless new problems, many of which never existed before. Whale’s adaptation of “Frankenstein” even predates the nuclear bomb: man’s creation with possibly the most foreboding correlation to Frankenstein’s relationship with the monster. And that is exactly the tale of Frankenstein: man’s fear of his own accomplishments. All of man’s accomplishments become wildly uncontrollable after their fruition, and yet we continue to invent newer goals with greater consequences.

Through all of this talk about man made horrors, Whale and Karloff portray the monster as an innocent victim, confused as to why it has been created only to be hated, betrayed, and destroyed. Once the creation of life had been achieved, Frankenstein then tries to destroy what he once sought, as if the creation is evil and not the creator. The film does more than live up to its opening words of warning; it crafts one of cinema’s most tragic characters. Boris Karloff had been cast in a nearly impossible role for which he needed to create intense sympathy for a character that not only has no voice for himself, but has a cast of characters shunning him for his villainous existence, while also needing to convince an audience to overcome his terrifying appearance. Karloff’s portrayal of this misfortunate monster carries so much passion and heart, and convinces an audience that this man is the truest victim of a world that wants to harness life as a tool.

The visual style of this film is exceptional, with awesomely terrifying sets and sound stage designs that perfectly encapsulate the characters and mood. It is possibly the closest a major Hollywood production would come to meeting with German Expressionism for many decades. Whale’s camera feels fluid considering how rigid some of the sets could be, using craning shots throughout many scenes. He utilizes close ups, which one could only imagine the horror of an audience seeing a character of this type for the first time spanning the height of an entire wall.

Most of the classic James Whale era Universal Studio monster movies have a relatively similar construction. Very often the monster of the film is a tragic victim of circumstances brought on by their own actions or misfortunes. The Invisible Man, The Wolf Man, Dr. Jekyll were all good men turned aggressors lost to their obsessions. There is greatest sympathy crafted for these villains. King Kong was mistreated by man, and so was Frankenstein. Even Dracula and The Mummy, the least sympathetic of the pre-code Monsters, are cursed to act the way they do and carry out their evils almost against their wills. This sympathy is something that was lost toward the monster movies of later decades, of course with exceptions like Creature of the Black Lagoon. Otherwise, films like The Blob, Invasion of the Body Snatchers, and most other 1950s monster horrors were dealing with absolute evils. This difference marks a stark difference between the two eras, not just film-wise, but also in terms of society and how this entertainment changed from reflecting on the evil within ourselves to exterminating the evil in others. Frankenstein rather portrays a selfish self-preservation at the heart of the film, calling out mankind for pointing blame at the byproducts of its actions rather than owning blame for its own hubris.

Typically, the classic horror films all have one flaw: character introductions. These horror classics open with incredible scenes, but when it comes time to set up characters, the tone changes to a flat, light, witty romantic comedy, which feels more like It Happened One Night rather than a monster movie. Frankly, it is a trope that the horror genre to this day has not truly overcome, but the violent switch in tone from spooky horror to stinted flirtatious wit brings a tonal whiplash that often disconnects interest in the film. Regardless of some awkward conversation, the characters in Frankenstein are largely pleasant and enjoyable to watch. Boris Karloff delivers an incredibly nuanced performance that should be studied far more, as he fully embodies his role through so much more than just facially and vocally, but physically through his hands and his stride. Karloff stares so intensely, unable to speak his tortured mind, and it shows through every close up. Another personal favorite of mine is the ending, with dramatic angles and imagery, flames at the base of the windmill as the creator runs from the created. There is a match cut between their faces as they stare at each other through the spinning gears of the mill, emphasizing the connection between these two as their relationship has deteriorated to such a horrible state. The moment is intimate and makes the closing of the scene carry such a weight that never leaves.