Alissa Burger
James Whale’s 1931 Frankensteinis an iconic classic horror film, with Boris Karloff’s embodiment of the Creature a widely recognized popular culture figure. Whale’s Frankenstein is particularly significant for its position at the intersection of a wide range of textual engagements, both in its adaptation of Mary Shelley’s 1818 novel (and that novel’s 1831 revised text) and the influence Whale’s version has had on every reimagining of Frankenstein that followed. As Whale’s Frankenstein and this complex web of textual engagement demonstrate, Frankenstein’s narrative is imminently malleable, with its constantly shifting forms and reinterpretations echoing the hybridity of the Creature and his constituent parts.
Beginning with Shelley’s Frankenstein (1818), the novel itself was inherently intertextual, drawing on and reflecting a wide range of philosophical and poetic texts that were contemporary with its moment of creation, including the electrical experiments of scientists like Giovanni Aldini; the work of both of Shelley’s parents, including Mary Wollstonecraft’s Vindication of the Rights of Women (1792) and William Godwin’s An Enquiry Concerning Political Justice (1793); and the Romantic poetry of Percy Bysshe Shelley, Lord Byron, and others. The story is told through a range of epistolary materials, including letters and diaries, and the Creature learns about humanity through a trio of texts: Plutarch’s Lives of the Noble Greeks and Romans (10th century), John Milton’s Paradise Lost (1667), and Johann Wolfgang Goethe’s The Sorrows of Young Werther (1774). Frankenstein is a novel built upon and around a wide range of texts, reflecting on and responding to these previously established narratives.
In 1831, Shelley’s revised edition of Frankenstein further underscored the malleability of the novel itself, with her edits and changes dramatically impacting the characterization and themes of the novel. Most significantly, as Anne K. Mellor explains, the author was affected by great losses in the intervening years and “in 1831, Mary Shelley reshaped her horror story to reflect her pessimistic conviction that the universe is determined by a destiny blind to human needs or efforts” (171), stripping Victor Frankenstein of free will and setting him instead on a path of fate and predestination. This tension between free will and destiny has continued to shape readers’ and critics’ interpretations of the novel and has become central to many adaptations and reimaginings of the Frankenstein story through the years, further demonstrating the un-fixed nature of the text itself.
Whale’s Frankenstein builds upon a similarly complex textual foundation, as he discovered that Universal had bought “the film rights to a stage adaptation by Margaret ‘Peggy’ Webling” (Neibaur 11) for film adaptation. Webling’s play adds another layer of textual engagement with Shelley’s novel, as it simplified the narrative from a complex consideration of good and evil, fate and free will, and what it means to be human to a story that “was more direct and easy to adapt to the still-new sound medium” (Neibaur 11). Future Universal Studios engagements with the Frankenstein narrative take a similar approach to Shelley’s text, such as Bride of Frankenstein’s (1935) opening credit note that the film was “suggested by” Shelley’s novel. The narrative and figure of the Creature himself were transformed through these different routes of remaking, from the multiple editions of Shelley’s novel to its theatrical adaptations, Whale’s films, and beyond.
Many of the signature characteristics of the now-familiar Frankenstein story have their first appearance in Whale’s Frankenstein — and Whale’s two Frankenstein films, Frankenstein and Bride of Frankenstein, along with Rowland V. Lee’s Son of Frankenstein (1939), establish the blueprint for the range of representations of the Creature and the narratives which followed.
First, Whale’s Frankenstein fundamentally shifts the representation of Shelley’s Creature, as he becomes an inarticulate being capable only of “grunting [and] growling” (Mallory 67), rather than Shelley’s articulate philosopher. The Creature is also physically transformed. While Shelley describes the Creature as having “yellow skin [which] scarcely covered the work of muscles and arteries beneath … [and] watery eyes, that seemed almost of the same color as the dun white sockets in which they were set” (35), it is Karloff’s embodiment of Creature that has captured viewers’ hearts and the popular culture imagination. As Susan Tyler Hitchcock notes, “Boris Karloff’s portrayal locked certain elements into the physical appearance of the monster – high forehead, flattop head, sunken cheeks, oversized limbs and undersized clothing, [and] a lumbering gait … creat[ing] a gestalt that is still instantly recognizable” (152).
Whale also carefully considers and deepens the emotional character of the Creature himself. While much has been streamlined and simplified in subsequent adaptations of Shelley’s novel, in Frankenstein, Whale very effectively engages with the complexity of the Creature’s humanity as “the monster’s sympathetic side is one of the reasons why this film [is] so successful. It’s obvious to the audience that he doesn’t mean to be bad … everything Frankenstein’s monster does is either out of confusion or accidental, giving an added layer of depth and tragedy to the character” (Neibaur 17).
This is most memorably demonstrated in the Creature’s interaction with young Maria (Marilyn Harris). In the innocence of childhood, she is the only person the Creature encounters in the film who doesn’t immediately shrink from him or scream in terror, instead taking his hand and inviting him to come play with her. An expression of joy crosses his face as he plays with Maria, throwing flowers into the water and watching them float. When they run out of flowers, he throws Maria in instead, expecting her to float in an extension of their game and horrified when she doesn’t resurface, slapping at the water and emitting cries of distress before fleeing in panic.
The Creature and Maria
Whale’s Frankenstein also positions the Creature within a larger social context, as his actions and the urge for his destruction extend well beyond Frankenstein (Colin Clive) himself. Instead of the isolated and dogged pursuit into a frozen wasteland of Shelley’s novel, the Creature is pursued by an angry mob, complete with torches and pitchforks. Through this reconceptualization of the Creature, Whale moves beyond Shelley’s reflection on Frankenstein’s paternal responsibility and the privileged interpersonal connection between the Creature and his creator to instead reflect upon the treatment of the outsider within a communal society. The Creature disrupts the village, escaping his creator’s control and needing to be collectively contained. This amplifies and complicates the characterization of Frankenstein as well, as he is called on to account for his actions and his name becomes synonymous with destruction among the villagers, an unshakeable legacy that continues to haunt his descendants through Son of Frankenstein.
While Whale’s Frankenstein uses Shelley’s novel as a starting point before developing a new narrative, Bride of Frankenstein explicitly returns to this source text in a variety of ways. First and most overtly, Bride of Frankenstein opens with a conversation between Mary Shelley (Elsa Lancaster, who also plays the Bride), Percy Bysshe Shelley (Douglas Walton), and Lord Byron (Gavin Gordon) at Lake Geneva, explicitly framing Whale’s film narrative within this act of creation before deviating from the prescribed course, as Shelley tells her companions that “that wasn’t the end at all.”
Mary Shelley, Percy Bysshe Shelley, and Lord Byron in Bride of Frankenstein
Once again underscoring the dynamic textual engagement of Whale’s films with Shelley’s novel, in Bride of Frankenstein, viewers see a different Creature, one who has met a friendly human and learned to speak, echoing the Creature’s observation of the De Lacey family in Shelley’s novel. Through this limited speech, the Creature begins forming relationships with others, first with the blind hermit (O.P. Heggie) who takes him in and later, with the exploitative Dr. Septimus Pretorius (Ernest Thesiger), who presents a parallel to and corrective of Henry Frankenstein, with Pretorius being a less morally-inhibited and madder “mad scientist.” However, it was Whale’s original version of the Creature that endured and the Creature reverted to his nonverbal state in Rowland V. Lee’s incarnation in Son of Frankenstein, further establishing the dominance of Karloff’s performance in Frankenstein in the popular culture imagination.
Bride of Frankenstein also negotiates Shelley’s novel by presenting a “what if?” scenario. While the Creature demands that Victor Frankenstein make him a mate in Shelley’s novel and Victor begins this macabre task, in the end he destroys his work, enraging the Creature. In Whale’s version, this new creation is carried to completion, with the Bride revealed in the film’s final scenes, with “her eyes unblinkingly wide open, her cheeks crossed with scars, her hair unforgettably coiffed with streaks of white lightning” (Manguel 46). Her stilted first steps echo the Creature’s own, and her wordless hisses and screams parallel his previous inarticulate attempts to communicate, connecting the Creature and his intended Bride. In the end, they are separated by an abiding horror as she fears and rejects him, further emphasizing the impossibility of the Creature ever finding true understanding or sympathy. After all, “if she, the Monster’s equal, the one and only being who might understand that his patched-up looks hide a sensitive, almost human soul, recoils in horror, what can the Monster expect from the rest of the world?” (Manguel 47). The Bride’s scream eliminates any path forward, prompting the Creature’s abjection and the inevitability of destruction, as he laments that “we belong dead.”
The Creature in Bride of Frankenstein also begins to display a sense of rebellion that is further developed in Son of Frankenstein. As Michael Mallory argues, “If the Monster in Frankenstein was a childlike innocent, here he is portrayed as a nightmarish teenager. Not only does he pick up smoking and drinking habits, but he shows a newfound interest in women, talks back to his ‘parent’ and suffers from falling in with a bad influence, namely Dr. Pretorius” (73). This rebellious streak and the impossibility of controlling the Creature is central to Son of Frankenstein as well, where the Creature is resurrected and identifies Ygor (Bela Lugosi) as his Master rather than Henry Frankenstein’s heir, Baron Wolf von Frankenstein (Basil Rathbone). In Bride of Frankenstein and Son of Frankenstein, the Creature is clearly developing a will and desire of his own, no longer beholden to his creator.
Son of Frankenstein also delves into the question of legend and legacy. When Wolf von Frankenstein comes to take possession of his father’s castle, he is told by the village leaders that “we’ve come to meet you, not to greet you,” making it imminently clear that he is not welcome and is even feared, with the Frankenstein name synonymous with madness and destruction. While Frankenstein begins by attempting to transcend this legacy, when Ygor leads him to the incapacitated Creature, Frankenstein’s goal quickly shifts to validating and completing his father’s work, fulfilling the villagers’ greatest fears as the Creature returns. Son of Frankenstein also complicates the Creature’s interactions with other humans when he meets Ygor, a fellow outsider who has been abused and excluded. However, unlike the hermit in Bride of Frankenstein, Ygor has no interest in understanding or caring for the Creature, instead using the Creature to seek vengeance and destroy his enemies. This further narrows the scope of human affection and connection the Creature can reasonably hope for, as Ygor affirms the Creature’s monstrosity and manipulates the Creature for his own evil purposes.
Wolf Von Frankenstein met at the train station in Son of Frankenstein
Whale’s Frankenstein and Bride of Frankenstein, as well as Lee’s Son of Frankenstein, all overtly engage with and negotiate the text of Shelley’s novel, exploring different avenues and opportunities for the Creature, his creator, and what their experiences and relationship reveal about the world around them. Whale’s and Lee’s films also serve as a creative catalyst, establishing the blueprint for popular culture representations moving forward, which have ranged from horror to comedy and beyond. For example, Mel Brooks’ Young Frankenstein (1974) particularly evokes the tradition of Son of Frankenstein, with the complicated legacy of the family name from which Dr. Frederick Frankenstein (Gene Wilder) attempts to distance himself through his dismissal of his grandfather’s work and insistence on the pronunciation of his last name. The Creature (Peter Boyle) is imbued with humanity, humor, and a sex drive, echoing the Creature’s longing in Bride of Frankenstein, an exploration of sexuality that is also central to The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975). Fred Dekker’s The Monster Squad (1987) takes an ensemble approach that echoes Universal Studios’ collaborations like Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man (1943) as a group of kids encounter a range of classic monsters including Frankenstein’s Monster (Tom Noonan), Dracula (Duncan Regehr), a Mummy (Michael MacKay), a Gillman (Tom Woodruff Jr.), and a Wolfman (Carl Thibault). The Monster Squad emphasizes the humanity and innocence of the Creature that Whale explored in Frankenstein, with his growing friendship with young Phoebe (Ashley Bank) paralleling Whale’s Creature’s encounter with Maria (though happily with less deadly results). There is also a sense of self-awareness and agency in the Creature in The Monster Squad, with his horrified response to a Halloween mask in his own likeness paralleling the Creature’s rejection of his reflection in Son of Frankenstein. In The Monster Squad, though, the Creature transcends this abjection to befriend and fight beside the kids rather than being co-opted by the monsters who are bent on the children’s destruction.
Whale’s (and Lee’s) influence is inescapable in each of these films, reflected in the Creature’s physicality and behaviors, which take viewers back to Frankenstein, Bride of Frankenstein, and Son of Frankenstein, as well as Shelley’s novel before them. The Frankenstein narrative is a timeless story of perennial fascination that grapples with themes that include human ingenuity and hubris, monstrosity, free will, abjection, and the influences of one’s lived experience. Much like the conflicted descendants of the original Dr. Frankenstein, contemporary imaginings and remakings carry the legacy and bear the stamp of the Creature and his stories which have come before, drawing on Whale’s and Lee’s intertextual engagement with Shelley’s novel and his singular vision of this iconic monster, as we continue to consider who the Creature is, what he means, and why he matters.
Works Cited
Hitchcock, Susan Tyler. Frankenstein: A Cultural History. New York, NY: W.W. Norton & Company, 2007.
Neibaur, James L. The Monster Movies of Universal Studios. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2017.
Mallory, Michael. Universal Studios Monsters: A Legacy of Horror. New York, NY: Universe, 2009.
Manguel, Alberto. Bride of Frankenstein (BFI Film Classics). London: British Film Institute Publishing, 1997.
Mellor, Anne K. Mary Shelley: Her Life, Her Fiction, Her Monsters. London: Routledge, 1989.
Shelley, Mary. Frankenstein (Norton Critical Edition, 2nd ed.) Edited by J. Paul Hunter. New York, NY: W.W. Norton & Co., 2012.
