I think this might be the first year I’ve ever really enjoyed the classic monster movies. I remember seeing “Bride of Frankenstein” in college, in my dorm room, probably on a lonely weekend – back when you had to wait for these things to roll around on broadcast TV. (Didn’t see “Casablanca” until I was 25, which is a very dangerous age for exposure; send in a mopey vegan teetotalling pacifistic emo kid into “Casablanca” at the right time, and he’ll come out ready to get drunk, smoke cigarettes, and run guns.) When I first saw “Bride” I was struck by its stylized look, and the pathos of the scenes with the blind man. I thought it was a great movie, and I’m not alone; it’s on all the lists, and still drips with critical slobber. Now? It goes down a notch in my opinion every time I see it.
Never got into the monsters as a kid. The other night on Twitter I noted I was watching “Nosferatu,” which shows vampires the way they ought to be: stinky ugly leeches, not sensitive tragic boys from the goth version of the Ambercrombie and Fitch catalog. Nosferatu reminds me of a very lanky Woody Allen, but that’s another story. I hate vampires, in general – “After Dark” was a scary, harrowing movie, but that’s all I’ll see. Impressionable young girls seem keen on them, perhaps because they like the bad-boy aspect and secretly believe they can improve them until they want to stay home at night and drink hamster smoothies. But there is nothing romantic about vampires, unless you’re really turned on by alcoholic bill-collectors who sleep in a box of dirt.
You know, the classic vampire tales -Nosferatu, Dracula – have the count luring a real estate agent to his home to suck his blood. So it’s a revenge fantasy, then.
OH JUST KIDDING. I love my realtors(TM). Onward –
The Wolfman: did nothing. He didn’t have any powers. Basically a dog in pants.
The Mummy: please. A geriatric reanimated boy-king wearing an Ace bandage, shuffling around so slowly he couldn’t catch up with Orson Welles if the great director had his pants around his ankles? No.
The Invisible Man: now this fellow I liked. Had style and panache and a certain brio to his madness, thanks to Claude Raines. Also, the dream of invisibility is enticing, until you start to wonder if your tissues are invisible, or perhaps your tissues defeat light in some ingenious way. No, it has to be invisible tissues. Which means your food would be visible, as well as the after-products. This was one of the problems revealed in a very fine book, “Memoirs of an Invisible Man,” made into a crappy Chevy Chase movie.
Frankenstein: see above. I knew almost nothing beyond “Bride” when I watched “Young Frankenstein,” and hence missed so many references; when you know all the source material, it’s even better. (But we’ll get to that tomorrow.) What bothered me about Frankenstein? Well, his indestructibility. The guy’s made out of stitched together meat; he ought to fall apart like a minced bologna the first time someone punches him, but he has superhuman strength. He can’t be killed – just wire him up and send in the juice, and presto, the Monster Walks Again. Also, I was bothered that I had to refer to him as Frankenstein’s Monster, instead of Frankenstein. C’mon. Even the horror comics of my day called him Frankenstein. It’s like having to say “Count Dracula” instead of “Dracula,” because the purists would point out there was a Baron Dracula who lived a quiet life as a cheese inspector.
The unvarying wardrobe was a matter of some speculation, too – but it’s interesting to consider that Frank wears a sport coat through most of his career, which makes the undead heap of homicidal urges whose very existence is an affront to God better dressed than most people at the mall.
On to the Bride. First, the seal of approval from the government – or, rather, the rote NRA sign to vouchsafe the studio’s compliance with the wishes of the state:
Next, the second Universal logo, with the tiny plane around the cloudless orb:
The titles. One word says it all, except he’s not exactly in Cher or Madonna territory:
Again with the ? as the Monster’s bride. I forget this every time: it begins with three literary types sitting around talking about the raw force of Nature, and Frankenstein. It’s like the Frankenstein / Dracula / Wolfman match ups. Byron!
That wimp, Shelley:
The Johnny B. Goode of proto-feminist lit, Mary B. Shelley!
The movie – released in ’35, years after the original – begins where the last one left off. Quite quickly we learn what’s different. Whale apparently didn’t want to redo the first one, so he decided to add some elements and turn everything up to 11. So we get Comic Relief:
Oh, she was a corker, that one, inserted into many films for birdy screechy overreaction. Then there’s Dr. Pretorius, all arch smiles and untrimmed eyebrows. Again, he overplays, but it’s good ham.
Here’s where the film stumbles: his magic box of mini-people.
The first time I saw the film this scene clanged like a box of cymbals tossed into a monkey cage. The FX are quite accomplished, but it’s all trickery, and it’s ridiculous: Pretorius managed to grow small complete intelligent homunculi, eh? Grow them? Chia style? It doesn’t work at all, and derails the implausible but internally-consistent science of the movie.
The blind-old-man section still works, although it’s impossible not to curse Mel Brooks and Gene Hackman somewhat. Friend! Good!
Smoke! Good!
Religious symbolism, as Frankenstein denies the gift of the risen Christ, good! From an artistic stand-point, anyway. Supposedly there was a scene of Frankenstein trying to get Jesus off the cross, just to help a brother out, I suppose. Can’t imagine why they cut that.
Girlfriend! Good!
Depends on the angle, really:
Elsa plays the Bride with the quick darting brainless movement of a pterodactyl, and it would be funny if it wasn’t so damned creepy.
As a whole, I’m not sure it’s better. Technically, it’s a better film. When it’s good, it’s awesome: The reanimation of the Bride is brilliantly shot and edited – the gap between ’35 and ’31 is almost as great as the space between the ’31 film and, say, 1927. The music is better, but that’s not difficult; there’s no music in the original. Waxman’s theme for Frankenstein has a motif that’s like Mahler on a psycho jag, and the insistent timpani heartbeat of the Bride’s creation is marvellous. Karloff handles the role with more detail than before, and even though he speaks he maintains the character’s essential muteness. There the same aching pathos in his outstretched hands, the same torment and want. His scenes with his blind friend show you why this character is different from the other Universal monsters: he is not only capable of the best of human emotions as well as the worst, he aspires to the former. He’d be okay if people didn’t keep coming at him with FIRE, RRRR, FIRE BAD for things he can’t remember doing; he’d be happy if little girls floated; he’d be fine if pretty girls didn’t scream at the sight of his face, and men try to shoot him just for being. But by the time he makes his way around to the castle and Drs. Pretorius and Frankenstein, he’s soured on it all. LOVE DEAD. HATE ALIVE. He would never be so human again.
Or . . . would he? That’ll be the next one in the series: Son of Frankenstein.
Oh: forgot the OHA, or Obligatory Hunchbacked Assistant.
–
Later today: Comic sins. See you around.
“It’s pronounced ‘Eyegor.’”
“Oh, they told me it was ‘Ee-gore.’”
“Well they were wrong, weren’t they?”
“Werewolf?”
“There.”
“What?”
“There wolf.”
“Why are you talking like that?”
“I thought you wanted to.”
@bgbear (roger h)
I’m told that Olivier’s problem in movies was that he’d been too well directed in “pulling back” his technique, for the more intimate craft which is movie acting, with its close-ups, etc. Apparently he pulled back too much, and left us with little hint of the fireworks he could work when he was on a stage.
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0109836/
?
@Lars Walker
I always suspected that about Olivier, pity never be able to see him live doing Hamlet. Just seems odd that someone like Ronald Coleman did not seem to have the same problem.
Movies do require a Cary Grant (now that is a Hamlet I liked to see, however, it would need an upbeat ending, I do not recall Grant ever dieing on film).
Weeel, I found one, but you would have to accept “Star Trek: Enterprise” as Star Trek. The chief engineer is a big Frankenstein fan, and keeps little monster statues in his office, according to the memory-alpha site. I never got into “Enterprise”, though.
I wouldn’t call the plane in the Universal logo “tiny.” Its wingspan is wider than Africa.
“Put…Ze Candle….BECK!!!
Screen-door hydraulic closer released by fishing line. Slaps right up there to the delight or terror of all who see it.
“When monsters are loose, Boards must be tight!”
RE: Monster’s Wardrobe
Jerry Seinfeld noted that even though the jacket didn’t fit, at least it showed that the monster was TRYING.
“He’s going to be very popular.” RIP, Marty Feldman.
The 1910 silent version of “Frankenstein” is available on You-Toob. An interesting take on the story. The laboratory is more like a kitchen, and Victor F. is sort of Emeril Lagasse as a mad scientist. (Here’s some abby normal brain BAM!)
In the end, the “monster” is actually a physical manifestation of the darker nature of Frankenstein’s own psyche. Thus presaging “Forbidden Planet” (The monsters of the Id!).
It is also interesting how the director used a large mirror as a means to relate the story, and as a metaphor for human nature.
““I’m dashed!” he said. “If this don’t beat cock-fighting! Most remark-able!—And there I can see a rabbit clean through you, ‘arf a mile away! Not a bit of you visible—except—”
He scrutinised the apparently empty space keenly. “You ‘aven’t been eatin’ bread and cheese?” he asked, holding the invisible arm.
“You’re quite right, and it’ not quite assimilated into the system.”
“Ah!” said Mr. Marvel. “Sort of ghostly, though.”
“Of course, all this isn’t half so wonderful as you think.”
–from “The Invisible Man”, by Herbert George Wells
Realtor is capitalized.
No kidding. I hadn’t watched that film in a long, long time, and had forgotten that scene. I felt like the big bad wolf seeing Red Riding Hood in one of the old Tex Avery cartoons!
Only if they’re a member of the National Association of Realtors. Given he’s from the 1800’s (1890 in Dracula, 1838 in Nosferatu), also because they’re fictional, I don’t believe either (Jonathon Harker or Thomas Hutter) was a member.
I think that was Gene Wilder you were referencing, not Hackman. But I’m sure you knew that. I remember making all the Universal monster models as a kid. It was necessary to take some of your hair from a haircut to glue on Wolfman for added visual effect. However, I was a toehead and the effect was more Michael Landon’s “Teen Werewolf” than Larry Talbot.
“After Dark” was a scary, harrowing movie, but that’s all I’ll see.”
If I may, I believe you mean “Near Dark.”
Hackman was the blind man in Young Frahnkensteen.
But I was going to make espresso!!
“Love is the only thing that can save this poor creature, and I am going to convince him that he is loved even at the cost of my own life. No matter what you hear in there, no matter how cruelly I beg you, no matter how terribly I may scream, do not open this door or you will undo everything I have worked for. Do you understand? Do not open this door.“
An invisible man would have to stay naked and free of dirt as well.
I always say Gene Hackman disappears into a role, many people did not recognize him.
That “tiny” Universal plane would span about 2200 miles wingtip to wingtip in relation to the Earth’s diameter.
And he woudl be blind.
“Realtor” is capitalized but not doctor, minister, etc? Pulleeze.
“[Frank's sportcoat] makes the undead heap of homicidal urges whose very existence is an affront to God better dressed than most people at the mall.”
Notably more articulate, as well.
I’ve enjoyed your reviews of these classic horror flicks, thanks for posting them. Your combination of expressive vocabulary with casual vernacular always makes for entertaining — and educational — reading.
Wow. In the second BOF photo, Elsa looks like a cross between Sigourney Weaver and the alien in Alien. Or is it just me?
The reason “Realtor” is capitalized, is that it’s a trademarked proper name denoting persons belonging to the Association of Realtors. A non-”Realtor” realtor would be a “real estate agent”, or some other such generic term. (Apparently the word was coined before it was trademarked though, so for some short span it was itself a generic term; I couldn’t find the word used anywhere before it was trademarked though, so I doubt it was ever widely used until its current trademarked version).
The Realtor attorneys should get busy, lest they go the way of aspirin and escalators.
Smokey IS the Bandit
Wait – we’re mixing too many flicks here.
[ Always hard to get an appointment with The Invisible Man’s secretary,
“I’m sorry you can’t see him right now.” ]
Good Lord. We shoulda seen that one coming up the avenue from a mile away. So cheap, yet so funny.
Man, the commenters are recommending a lot of my own favorites tonight…
“The In-Laws”…what a funny, funny movie. “How long has The Price is Right been on ?” “Oh, since about 1911.” (30 years after that line was written, IT’S STILL ON.)
“Serpentine, Shelly…serpentine!”
Forgot another gem: “Are you interested in joining [the CIA]? The benefits are terrific. The trick is not to get killed. That’s really the key to the benefit program.”
The original The In-Laws is pretty much perfect. Falk’s cockamamie cockiness and Arkin’s slow-burn exasperation are a magic combination. I know they remade it a couple of years back but I have no idea why, or why anyone with access to the original (hello NetFlix) would ever bother with an update.
@hpoulter I tried to acknowledge in my post that Alan Moore’s take on the Invisible Man, Mr. Hyde, and co. in “The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen” isn’t likely to be everyone’s cup of tea. Clearly it isn’t yours.
But if comics are one of your preferred means of “rotting your brain,” please don’t spurn all of Moore’s stuff on the basis of the League (or of Watchmen, which famously equates costumed heroics with psychosis).
Moore’s “Tom Strong” series, and a run of stories he did on an otherwise wretched Superman-ripoff comic called “Supreme” are very affectionate homages to Doc Savage-style “science heroes” (Moore’s term) and Silver Age superheroes, respectively. Another fun title of his is “Top 10″, an “NYPD Blue”-like chronicle of a police precinct in a city where everyone has superpowers.
If nothing else, check out “What Ever Happened to the Man of Tomorrow?” the “last Superman story” Moore wrote back in the 80s.
All of this stuff is smart, entertaining fun that proves Moore can buy into and extend the superhero mythos, as well as deconstruct it.
Never got into the monsters as a kid. The other night on Twitter I noted I was watching “Nosferatu,” which shows vampires the way they ought to be: stinky ugly leeches, not sensitive tragic boys from the goth version of the Ambercrombie and Fitch catalog.
Who *SPARKLE*. Don’t forget the *SPARKLE*.
I’ll forever think of Karloff when I hear 96 tears.
@grs
ok, I’ll say it. Elsa is kinda Hawt.
It looks rather strange to see the NRA seal juxtaposed with the MPAA certificate number. It’s almost as if they’re saying “Not only does the Hays office approve this movie, but so does AMERICA! Buy war bonds!” (Okay, so there wasn’t a war yet, but you know what I mean.)
Well, now that everyone has chewed and chewed on this… “Bride” is one of my favorite movies, period. No qualification of genre, just one of the favs (Howard Hawks “The Thing, from another planet” wins with me, various reasons). “Bride” had so much going on, when I watched “Frankenstein” I was kind of left with a “that’s it?” feeling. “Bride” has so much, Morpheus camping around, the blind man scene, Morpheus and the monster in the crypt and finally, at the end, Elsa, snappin’ her head around it’s a wonder the fresh stitches didn’t fail.
Oddly, that frumpy old lady that married Charles Laughton looks rather tasty in her early days. “Honey, the kids are gone tonight. Put on the bedsheet and the wig and lets play ‘Mad Scientist and the Homunculetta’”.
The Realtor attorneys should get busy, lest they go the way of aspirin and escalators.
Don’t forget Thermos bottles and Dumpsters.