Legacy of Frankenstein #7: Young Frankenstein (1974)

Today, we're all about Young Frankenstein, Mel Brooks' best movie by far. Sure, Blazing Saddles may be funnier, but this one is stunning to look at, full of heart, and even the score is gorgeous. (Why oh why is the soundtrack out of print? I don't even have my LP copy to listen to anymore.)

200 years ago, Mary Wollstonecraft had a dream about a scientist creating a human, and that led to her invention of science fiction. Some 150 years later, also inspired by a dream, Gene Wilder sat down with a yellow legal pad and wrote a few pages of story about the grandson of Frankenstein. Once the ideas were developed, Mel Brooks brought the story to life (with help from a lot of the same cast and crew from Blazing Saddles).

Sidebar: How weird is it that both those films were released in just ten months? I'd argue that no director has ever had a better year in film history than Mel's 1974. (Okay, Spielberg's 1993 was pretty amazing.)

I've probably seen this one 20 times, so the movie holds no surprises for me anymore (though I was still sad I didn't get a chance to see it during its recent, brief revival on the big screen). While almost all the jokes hold up to repeated viewing, today I was amazed at how emotional the film can still make me. 

Reading obituaries and tributes to Gene Wilder, I kept reading that he made things funny by keeping them real and heartfelt. I hadn't put that together, since I saw most of his best work during my most formative years and wasn't always paying attention to emotions in hilarious comedies. But even with something as early as The Producers, Leo Bloom is hilarious only because we can care about him. This movie takes the time to let us sympathize with the characters (otherwise the frenetic jokes would be less funny, like a Scary Movie-type spoof). The scene with the creature in jail, being tormented by his keepers, has no laughs at all -- it exists just to stir our hearts.

The movie also takes the time to set scenes. Long, moody shots of the village and castle, and plenty of time for us to hear the score, not only ground the jokes, but make the whole conceit funnier as a specific parody of James Whale's movies about Frank. (The funniest scenes, for me, are particular burlesques of scenes from Whale.)

Sidebar #2: Like a few previous entries here, Greg Proops presented this film at his film club, where he recorded a podcast of jokes and commentary. He also relates his memories of Wilder and Marty Feldman. Listen to it here.

2016 has been a brutal year in a lot of ways (no politics talk here, promise). I was upset to lose David Bowie and Prince, but neither of them hurt me as much as the loss of Gene Wilder. He hasn't been doing much lately, but I love him as a person, and his best work stands as some of the best funny movies ever made. (I haven't seen all his work, but I get the impression that a lot of the 80s stuff is, franky, skippable.) There hasn't been a year since I started high school that I haven't seen, and enjoyed, and been cheered up by, a film of his. On hearing of his death, I didn't do a memorial watch of everything, like I did with Harold Ramis, but so much of Gene's work lives in my heart and inspires my sense of both comedy and art.

I'm glad that Mel is still around (and very much in the public eye) to carry the torch for all the departed friends who made this film, and that he still hangs out with Carl Reiner every day. (As if it weren't bad enough that Mel lost Anne Bancroft, Sid Caesar left us this year too.) I haven't yet read his book about this movie, but I definitely intend to.

This movie is indelible for comedy fans and horror fans, and even just for fans of movies in general. I'd argue that it's the best parody film ever, mostly because of its attention to detail and loving tribute to the genre. Also, it's so beloved that, like Universal's Frank franchise (Frank-chise? probably not), it's spawned lots of peripheral products, like toys and stage productions and such. Tomorrow, I'm talking about two of them.

Legacy of Frankenstein #6: Gods and Monsters (1998)

I know very well that I'm kind of cheating here, counting this in my Frank theme. There are dozens and dozens of Frankenstein movies out there, and this isn't really one of them. But I'd never seen it before, and I was interested in James Whale (though I expected this film to spend more time on the making of his films).

James Whale directed the first two Universal Frankenstein movies, along with The Invisible Man and several other classic films, and this film imagines his final days, befriending a gardener and looking back over his life and memories.

Whale did indeed have a fascinating life, though the main story told in this movie is completely fictional. The film is sweet and sentimental (though not cloying). And, honestly, I feel like it deals with Shelley's original friendship themes better than any of the official Frank movies I've seen. 

Sidebar: While watching Whale's memories of World War One trenches, I couldn't help but think about Walt Disney, driving an ambulance in Paris at the same time. The two men both lived through horrors I can only imagine and survived to create warm, humane films which entertained the world. 

Ian McKellen is, of course, remarkable as Whale, and it's amazing to think how unknown he was to mainstream movie audiences at the time (Roger Ebert even felt he had to identify McKellen as a well-regarded stage actor for his readers). And Brendan Fraser, who'd follow up on a Universal horror franchise of his own the next year, was best known as a lowbrow goofball. I can't imagine a more unlikely pair of actors to make Oscarbait in 1998. But that's kind of the point, and they click together and create something real. It's touching to watch the two simply interact, and warm to each other. 

This movie, as I said, wasn't exactly what I expected, and I don't think I'll feel the need to see it every time I watch Whale's work (as I do with Ed Wood). But it's a sweet, sad piece of work, and it's great to know more about James Whale as a person. 

Legacy of Frankenstein #5: Bride of Frankenstein (1935)

James Whale's sequel to his first Frankenstein film came four years later, and after he made a successful different Universal monster movie, The Invisible Man. It's widely agreed that Bride of Frankenstein is Whale's masterpiece.

Whale and several screenwriters took years to come up with a story worth telling, and teased a few philosophical points from the Shelley novel, while creating new twists on the original film's themes. Since the first film's release, a new and vigorous censor had come to power in Hollywood, so the film has less than half the murders originally scripted for it, and focuses a lot more on fantastical horror, rather than gruesome realities.

The film opens with an elaborate sequence featuring Mary Shelley herself, along with her husband and Lord Byron, who clamor for more story (while recapping the first film). Shelley tells her audience that she has some ideas for a continuation. So the Creature survives the original film's ending, as does his creator.

As the Creature menaces the film's most irritating character (a comic-relief servant), Henry Frankenstein is taken home to recover from his injuries. Almost immediately, he is taken away again by his old mentor, a crazed philosopher, Dr. Pretorius. Pretorius wants to collaborate with Henry, and has something to show him.

Dr. Pretorius's campy character and miniature creations feel like a (nearly silly) diversion from the original story, but they're a symptom of the changed tone. While Henry and the Creature undergo more humanistic adventures, the true mad scientist of this film is (like Byron in the prologue) a proudly irreverent God-scoffer. Pretorius dines in a crypt, laughs at Henry's attempts to live within conventional morality, and blackmails murderers to further his own ego-driven ends.

This film spends some time explicitly pointing out that man isn't meant to play God (even putting those words into Shelley's mouth in the prologue, though her own stated goals in the novel didn't include that). I don't know how much of this is due to the new censor, or just an overabundance of moralistic caution, but it feels too preachy. In a film where two characters mock God in speech, I'm not sure we also need to be reminded that mocking him in practice is bad. The repeated cross symbolism is almost overbearing. (Though, apparently, my least favorite example, a lingering image of a wall-mounted Christ during a fadeout, was neither Whale's idea, nor liked by him.)

A lot of the original cast had moved on (for health or other reasons) since the first film, so several characters were recast. As someone watching the two films back-to-back (something the movies weren't designed for, and which would almost never have happened when they were released), I found it jarring to have a different person playing Elizabeth (and, less so, the burgomaster). The shifts in tone and recasting, and the addition of a more prominent musical score, make the film noticeably different from its precursor. It's loopier, more creative, though no less horrific.

And, it should be said, it's also more human. Henry's attempts at emotional recovery feel almost like a metaphor for addiction, while the Creature's repeated attempts to find companionship earn our sympathy. Of course, the sweet scenes with the blind hermit memorably tease the Creature (and us) with potential domestic contentment. More than the rest of the film, these scenes succeed at one of Shelley's original stated goals from the novel, the one to remind us how much better friendship is than almost anything else. 

This sequel is much more complex, more deeply-layered, than the first film. It's got the same depth of moody shadows, the same obsession with death and rebirth, but it's also more thoughtful, more expressive, funnier and more horrible. It's just got so much more movie in it.

Legacy of Frankenstein #4: Frankenstein (1931)

How do you do? I feel it would be a little unkind to present this blog post without just a friendly word of warning: it might even horrify you! Well, we warned you.

James Whale's classic film adaptation has proven to be the most indelible version of Mary Shelley's beloved monster. From its endless atmospherics to Karloff's brilliant portrayal, all the parts join together to sum up the melodramatic horror.

There's a reason this film is still revered and beloved, emulated and quaked at. Whale's moody, introspective lighting and staging cemented Universal's place at the center of the monster-movie universe. (Tod Browning's Dracula, ten months earlier, is also note-perfect in every respect, but this second masterwork proved that horror could repeatedly succeed artistically and financially. This film, even more than Dracula, proved the worth of a monster franchise that Universal is still working on today.)

(To be clear: I love the thoughtfulness of the novel, and its philosophic bent really spoke volumes to me. My favorite things about the novel aren't in this film. I think it's possible that someone may, one day, make a good film version of that profound statement. I also think it will never be as beloved as this film, possibly not even by me.)

A few parts of this film seem like filler today: Frankenstein's father, the blustery and speech-impeded Wodehouse aristocrat, is a stock type that exists only to inject a touch of humor into the grim darkness. And the wedding celebrations go on a bit too long for my taste, though the painful undercutting of the joy by Maria's father wouldn't be as effective if they were removed entirely.

But the vast majority of the film is glorious: gloomy lighthouse scenes, the captivating electrical gadgets, Frankenstein's mad (and wholly unscientific) speed-rant about the rays of life. The majesty of Colin Clive's feverish performance contrasts so well with Karloff's quiet childlike simplicity as he tries to grasp sunlight.

I love this film, and I remember loving its sequel, Bride of Frankenstein, even more -- back tomorrow after I've revisited that one.