Father of "The Bride"

Noel Vera

I remember seeing this years ago on a Betamax tape, right after
seeing the original (I had the films taped off HBO, way back when the
channel was new). "Frankenstein" impressed me with one scene, where
the good doctor (Colin Clive) exposes The Creature (the indelible
Boris Karloff) to sunlight, and The Creature gropes helplessly,
trying to reach the unreachable source of warmth and brightness; the
rest of the picture looked cheaply done, with an ending I thought
particularly disappointing, the extras running up what obviously was
a soundstage set to surround the Creature, and The Creature tossing
what patently looked like a dummy off the top of the windmill he was
trapped in, before burning to death.

Which meant I wasn't in a good mood when I got to see "Bride." The
opening scene with Mary Shelley (Elsa Lanchester) spinning off a new
story to Lord Byron and her husband already struck a wrong note--it
felt like a cheap attempt to justify a sequel. Dr. Pretorious's
homunculi I thought silly--Dr. Frankenstein's stitched-together
monster looked obsolete compared to those perfect (if tiny)
creatures, making me wonder why Pretorious would bother asking the
doctor for help at all (they were to combine Pretorious' black arts
with Frankenstein's resurrection techniques to create a "a man-made
race"). The rest of the film was more bizarre than bloodcurdling,
down to the Bride's flowing robes and daintily birdlike gestures. I
don't really understand it at all, at the tender age of (I'm
guessing) twelve or so.

Viewing it so many years later, I finally got it, to the point where
I'd just about consider it one of the greatest horror films ever
made. James Whale, director of the original monster hit, held out for
four years till Universal Studio executive Carl Laemmle gave him
complete artistic freedom, a substantially bigger budget (Over
$400,000, compared to the original's $262,000), and a whole new team
to create a more lush, more luxurious film. Whale didn't want to do a
mere sequel; he wanted to go beyond what the original was trying to
say--to, in effect, say a few things of his own.

The prologue with Mary Shelley makes more sense now--it's as if Whale
were saying "we all know Shelley didn't write a sequel, but let's
pretend, shall we…?" The film's true emotional tone is established by
a quick scene: the father of the little girl murdered in the first
film walks through the smoking ruins of the windmill and promptly
falls into an underground cavern; The Creature drowns the father and,
when the mother grabs at his outstretched hand thinking it's her
husband, tosses her into the cavern as well. In the original this
would have been an occasion for straight horror, but here Whale
adopts a kind of breezy heartlessness, playing the scene as dark
slapstick: you don't know whether to laugh or cry out, and caught
between two conflicting emotions, you can't help but think "hello,
here is something new."

A lot of ink's been spilled over the role of Pretorious: he's been
described as "nurturing mother" to Frankenstein's "creative father"--
a same-sex couple with their unconventionally engendered child. It's
also been pointed out that Pretorious' name is mentioned several
times before he actually appears, the way you need to say the Devil's
name three times before he appears (to drive the point home, Whale
includes a Devil homunculus, to which Pretorious remarks: "There's a
certain resemblance to me, don't you think, or do I flatter
myself?"). Pretorious, deliciously played by the gay (like Whale
himself) Ernest Thesiger, is the life of this party, supplying much
of the wit and winking, self-conscious commentary; Clive's
Frankenstein plays straight Faust to Thesiger's bent Mephisto (his
homunculi explained away as being more black magic than science); the
Creature is the hapless victim of this struggle between a human and
his demonic tempter.

Speaking of victim, I'd have thought the scene between The Creature
and the blind man (O.P Heggie), partly derived from Shelley's novel,
would have succumbed to the merciless parodying of Mel Brooks "Young
Frankenstein"--I saw the parody first, and loved it for years. But
seeing the original with fresh eyes, I realized that while Whale may
have intended something satiric--the pious music in the background
sounds halfway parodic already--what actually unfolds is surprisingly
straight. Again, the relationship between Creature and the blind man
has been seen as a metaphor for same-sex union, which I can buy, but
which I think transcends that, just as it transcends the mosquito-
whine music: it's Whale's genuinely felt plea to recognize The
Creature's loneliness, a loneliness we've all shared at one point or
another in our lives, to recognize the possibility of true love--
suddenly found, not necessarily sexual--between two men. I'd heard
about the film being sophisticated horror satire; I never expected it
to be moving as well.

And still this plays to Whale's overall scheme, because a satire that
holds nothing sacred is simple nihilism, but a satire that can take
at least one thing seriously--a satire that has (that unfashionable
term) heart--is making a point. It doesn't just flail away at all
directions; it plants its feet on some kind of moral ground, and
sinks its teeth into the meat of its target (you need your feet on
the ground for traction). Brooks' parody is a marvelous bit of comedy
(particularly Gene Hackman's cheerful blind man), but Whale's
original has real dramatic power.

That's about it, except that I'd like to note that the Bride (Elsa
Lanchester, who also plays Mary Shelly--unemphasized incestuous
relationship here) is dressed in resplendent white as if for a grand
wedding, but the whole affair looks more like a cross between a
masked ball and a town fiesta, complete with the Devil's own
collection of laboratory fireworks. The Bride's response to The
Creature is startling, the same time it feels inevitable--after all
the preparation and struggle, can you really guarantee that a woman
will say "yes," just like that?

The Creature's final line "you live…you stay!" gives him the dignity
of finally functioning as a human being, capable of judgment--of
making choices. Funny the way he speaks to his "father" and "mother:"
Frankenstein he knows mostly through his absences--if the doctor
reacts at all to his creation, it is usually in horror; Pretorious
treats The Creature much better--invites him to share his meat and
drink, and even a good smoke--and more importantly recognizes him as
a fellow freak. Yet The Creature speaks kindly to Frankenstein and
witheringly to Pretorious--why? Because, I think, The Creature
realizes that Frankenstein, while a terrible father, holds back his
affection because he struggles with something Pretorious lacks--a
conscience, a sense of morality--and the Creature respects that
struggle, respects Frankenstein's conscience, maybe even (despite all
the abuse heaped upon him in the past) loves him, the same time he
recognizes that Pretorious, despite his friendliness, is evil.
Whale's Creature in effect is a child who, because of his experiences
and despite his sufferings, learns the difference between good and
evil, right and wrong. I'd be proud to have raised someone like that.

("Bride of Frankenstein" is available on DVD and VHS).

(First published in Menzone Magazine, October, 2004)

(Comment? Email me at noelbotevera@...)