A Pair of Frankensteins

Tonight I watched Frankenstein (1931) and Bride of Frankenstein (1935), back-to-back on Turner Classic Movies. I've seen both many times before and I'm still uncertain which is the greater film. Certainly Bride is the very rare sequel which is as good as or better than its original. Frankenstein is more of a pure horror film -- chilling, eerie, deeply unnerving, and it moves like an arrow going unerringly from beginning to end with virtually no pauses. Karloff was never scarier as the monster than in this 1931 film. It's spare and always right on target. Just think of the monster's first appearance in the doorway, turning around to face the camera as it cuts closer and closer to that inhuman face.

By contrast, Bride is a wonderful cornucopia of macabre black humor, satire, a decidedly queer subtext, more lavish production values, and digressions into all sorts of fascinating avenues for the monster to develop as a human being.  (And yes, it's hard to watch the scene with the monster and the blind hermit without thinking of Gene Hackman's hilarious turn as the hermit in Young Frankenstein). That makes it sound like I prefer it to the original, but I really can't make up my mind, and I'm sure that people will be arguing about the merits of both films in comparison to each other for many years to come. 

Suffice to say that I greatly enjoyed watching them one after the other. They seem like one unified movie, impeccably directed by James Whale with Karloff, Colin Clive, Ernest Thesinger, and marvelous character actors. Rather than argue which one is better than the other, I recommend everyone watch both films back to back the way I did tonight. The result is enormously satisfying, even if continuity is slightly strained by Henry Frankenstein's fiance played by a different actress, Valerie Hobson instead of Mae Clarke, in Bride, with different colored hair -- well, one can't be too picky about these matters.  Better to focus on a world of Gods and Monsters, and what the implications of that might be.  (NB: Has any actor ever used their few minutes on the screen more effectively than Elsa Lanchester in Bride? Admittedly, she plays two parts, both the bride and author Mary Shelley.)

In short, two masterpieces -- I almost said monsterpieces  -- of horror (or terror, the term Karloff preferred), as thrilling today as they were nearly a century ago.  "We belong dead," the monster says about Dr. Pretorius, the bride and himself at the end of Bride of Frankenstein.  But thanks to devoted fans all over the world, they live!

Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein (1948)

In honor of Halloween, I watched this great comedy horror film again Saturday night on Svengoolie for what must be the 50th time, or something like that. I still marvel at how seamlessly the comedy and horror blend together into a perfect whole. Ironically, the introduction of Abbott and Costello infused new blood (no pun intended) into the franchise. And the "appearance" of Vincent Price's voice as the Invisible Man at the very end was the cherry on top of this very rich ice cream sundae. Plus the film gives you lots of Bela for your buck.  Not to mention that Walter Lantz of Woody Woodpecker fame did the animation sequences.  Kudos also to Lon Chaney, Jr., Glenn Strange, Lenore Aubert, the wonderful Frank Ferguson, and Bud and Lou, for a grand entertainment indeed.  As critic Leonard Maltin said, the movie works because "the monsters play it straight."  Just as performances of the Greek tragedies would be followed by a comedy, so the Frankenstein/ Dracula / Wolf Man series comes to an end with a laugh.

Dracula (1931)

Last night I watched Bela Lugosi and company in the 1931 Dracula for the first time in many years. I've seen clips from the film since then, but this was the first time I viewed it from beginning to end in a long while.  I was immediately drawn into the brilliantly eerie atmosphere. With all its flaws, and it does have some, it's still a masterpiece. Yet I continue to feel the movie ends a bit abruptly.  Indeed the subplot with Lucy, which was included in the script, was partially deleted from the film. You get a little bit of it and then the movie drops it. I think that was a mistake.  

I also paid close attention to the famous piece of torn cardboard leaning against the lamp in both Lucy and Mina's bedroom.  Apparently nurses would use the cardboard to shield the light from their patients who were sleeping in the bed next to them while the nurse read a book. Yet that doesn't explain why the cardboard shows up in Lucy's bedroom next to the lamp before she even needs a nurse. There's no explanation for it in the film, and anyone looking at it on a big screen has to wonder what that ugly piece of cardboard is doing there in both scenes. I've read that one shot from the earlier scene was taken and used for the later scene. And the famous Spanish version of Dracula (1931), the furniture is arranged differently and there's no cardboard light diffuser at all.

Nevertheless, Lugosi continues to compel, and the film offers many chilling delights to this day. I think I may have underrated Helen Chandler's performance in the past. She's very good when she's possessed by Dracula. Her eyes are mesmerizing.  

Another thing that Rhodes points out is that a close examination of the English and Spanish Draculas reveals the Tod Browning moved his camera more often than people recall.  His camera was not as static as is often believed.  

One final note. When the couple ask Van Helsing if he will be coming with them, he says "not right now, presently." Apparently Universal was going to have him speak to the audience at the end much the way he does at the beginning of Frankenstein. But the scene was never included in the film and it leaves a mystery in the mind of some viewers.  

But all nitpicking aside, this is a landmark horror film that can be watched with pleasure again and again.  I just wish it was a bit longer.  Which may be yet another indication of a great film.