The Pitch of Frankenstein

There are few characters, real or fictional, as instantly recognizable and universally beloved as Karloff’s Frankenstein Monster, two conditions that explain his popularity with advertisers. This recent ad, for Shinola Plus brand shoe polish, was created by the H2O Group of Guatemala, under Creative Director and Copywriter Julio Orozco Lanena,
with Art Direction by Nelson Hernández.

See the ad displayed here, along with companion versions using Universal’s Kharis and Lon Chaney’s vampire from London After Midnight.

The First Monster: T.P.Cooke

It was on this day 185 years ago — 28 July, 1823 — that the first performance of the first Frankenstein play was given in London. The first actor to ever play Frankenstein’s Monster was T.P.Cooke.

Thomas Potter Cooke, born in 1786, served in the Royal Navy as a boy. He was still a teenager when he quit the sea and embarked on a stage career that, over a span of 56 years, would make him one of the most popular actors of his century. His specialties were monsters and sailors.

In what seems like an endless repertoire of nautical dramas, Cooke became known as “the sailor of the British stage”. His heroic sea-farers so captured the popular imagination that, according to Maura L. Cronin, “the actor became the embodiment of a ‘national son', a patriotic figure with cross-class appeal.” His success was such that it inspired early forms of merchandizing. Fans could purchase colored engravings or porcelain figurines of the actor posing in sailor roles such as James Fenimore Cooper’s Long Tom Coffin. Yet, in an era when actors embraced typecasting as a ticket to fame, Cooke boldly jumped genres and enjoyed equal success playing supernatural villains.

In August 1820, Cooke took on the part of Lord Ruthven, Polidori’s Vampyre, first imagined by Lord Byron on that fateful stay at the Villa Diodati that provoked Mary Shelley into writing Frankenstein. Cooke dressed his Ruthven in a silver breastplate, a kilt, sandals and a feathered hat. A vanishing trick using a puff of smoke and a breakneck trap door caused a sensation. After his 1823 Frankenstein, Cooke would play Vanderdecken, the “Balzacian, diabolical genius… a half-living, half-dead, rational lunatic” (J.Q.Davies, The Opera Quarterly, 2005) in the 1826 production of The Flying Dutchman; or, the Phantom Ship, penned by the notorious “Fitzball”, Edward Ball. The New York Times reported that a ghostly magic lantern effect in this one was “a marvel of stage illusion”. Back in 1823, the winning illusion of Presumption; or, The Fate of Frankenstein was Cooke himself.

As The Monster, Cooke wore a wig of wild hair, a tight-fitting tunic, and exposed skin colored a light blue. In various reviews, Cooke’s face is said to have been white, blue or a pale green. A fellow actor, William Oxburry, wrote that “T.P.Cooke gave the charnel house monster a green, putrescent hue.”

Confusion about Cooke’s exact facial coloring would persist (it could have changed over his numerous returns to the part), but reviewers were unanimous in praise of Cooke’s performance. The London Morning Post report was typical: “T.P.Cooke well pourtrays what indeed it is a proof of his extraordinary genius so well to pourtray—an unhappy being without the pale of nature—a monster—a nondescript—a horror to himself and others… Too much cannot be said in praise of T.P.Cooke, his development of first impressions, and naturally perceptions, is given with a fidelity to nature truly admirable. Take for instance the pourtraiture of his first sensations on hearing music, than which nothing can be finer.”

The music scene, often praised, was an inspired piece of pantomime where The Monster, hearing a flute, snatches at the empty air and holds his fists to his ears. Mary Shelley herself, attending the play in late August, was delighted with this. Cooke’s Monster was mute, and his whole performance relied on what was then called “dumb show”.

The most memorable scene in the play would be The Monster’s spectacular entrance, stumbling out of the laboratory and crashing through a high balustrade to the ground to confront a dagger-wielding Frankenstein. Oxburry recalled, “What can be more dreadful than his manner of walking against the balustrade…”

An engraving (reproduced at top) immortalized the scene. It shows The Monster in streaming light, towering over its disarmed creator, the sword snapped in half. We get a fair idea of The Monster’s toga-like costume, but the face is an idealized portrait of the actor, not a representation of his Monster who, reviewers said, had a shriveled, ghastly complexion with straight black lips. Images of Cooke in his numerous roles are all more or less the same (see a large selection here). He always appears dead center in an operatic pose, legs wide apart, arms raised, dressed in different costumes but, for all the different hats, wigs or occasional whiskers, the face is always the same, natural and recognizable.

The play was a phenomenal success. It quickly moved to a larger theater to accommodate the crowds, and copycat versions were hitting London stages within a month. By year’s end, five different versions — including burlesque parodies — had been fielded. Over the next three years, no less than fourteen versions were staged in England, France and America. In a revival of Peake’s version, actor Richard John O. Smith, a reliable stage villain who had often played the dastardly pirate to Cooke’s noble sailors, would inherit the part and, in turn, achieve a degree of fame as The Monster, though not as indelibly as T.P.Cooke.

In July 1826, Cooke traveled to Paris to appear in a new version of the story, Le Monstre et le magicien, at La Porte Saint-Martin. James Robinson Planché, recalled, “his success was so great that “monstre bleu”, the color he painted himself, became the fashion of the day in Paris.” Blue or green, color confusion continued as Le Journal des Débats reported, “we saw with pleasure that the monster, so frightening with his green skin and counselor’s wig, had very good manners…”. In England, Punch noted that Cooke was “the original Monster in Frankenstein — and a very original monster, too, who made a furore in Paris, and gave the color to gloves, Vert de monstre (monster green)”.

In an October 1853 article, The Illustrated London News calculated that T.P.Cooke had portrayed The Monster 365 times, “a whole year in the company of the Monster”. The writer recalled Cooke’s Monster as “that shape-less, sightless, speechless, mass of movement without thought, that glides forward rather than walks”. Cooke’s unique approach to supernatural roles was praised: “Others played ghosts and demons with unquestionable success; but how mechanically, and solidly… It was he who first infused them with a true poetic element – gave them a dreamy indistinctness – a vague suggestive shadow, which, while it chained the sense, set the imagination loose… proof of how art – which is so powerful in giving beauty its due force – can even serve to redeem the gross, and throw a charm over the appalling!”

T.P.Cooke and his Monster are forgotten now, but Cooke’s performance was, for a time, the unavoidable influence, the template for Frankenstein’s Monster. You can still see a reference to it in Charles Ogle’s wild Monster of the Edison Company’s Frankenstein film, in 1910.

For a century, no less, Cooke’s Frankenstein Monster was an image as pervasive and iconic as the flattop and bolts version of Boris Karloff, in Jack Pierce’s makeup, is to us, today.

References:

A detailed remembrance of T.P.Cooke, by Maura L. Cronin.

Text of the play, Presumption; or, The Fate of Frankenstein, and the first reviews.

The Scholarly Frankenstein

I’m awfully proud to report that this blog has been singled out by the brainy university types at Intute as “a useful research aid for those seeking to survey the uses to which the Frankenstein monster is still being put in popular culture, and the contemporary neo-gothic / neo-Victorian imagination in general.”

Intute (formerly known as RDN, The Research Discovery Network) is a UK-based consortium of seven universities and research partners working together “to advance education and research by promoting the best of the Web in one easily accessible place, providing access to quality resources through a process of evaluation and collaboration.”

Experts and subject specialists evaluate websites for quality and relevance, and the chosen ones are included in Intute’s free online search engine. From now on, searching Intute for Frankenstein, Mary Shelley, and things related will bring up Frankensteinia among a list of valuable web resources.

See, you’re not just entertained here, you’re edjukated, too!

Click here to see the Frankensteinia description page.

The Covers of Frankenstein: The Frankenstein Dracula War No.1

Two classic monsters strike poses on a Mike Mignola cover for The Frankenstein Dracula War No.1, published by Topps Comics in 1995.

The title, a three-issue miniseries, was inspired by the company’s recent comic book adaptations of two Francis Ford Coppola productions, Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1992) and Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein (1994). Focusing on public domain characters allowed Topps to exploit the monster franchise unburdened by licensing fees.

The story, devised by Roy Thomas with an assist by Jean-Marc Lofficier, has the Frankenstein Monster, a literate giant close to the original Mary Shelley concept, forced by the alchemist Count Saint-Germain to seek out Dracula and bring back the vampire’s heart. It’s a terse, curiously cruel tale. The inside art, penciled by Claude St-Aubin, is workmanlike, but the best thing about this series is the striking cover treatment, by Mike Mignola.

Mignola was then just getting started on his own creation, Hellboy, fated for success. As a cover artist, he was already a master, displaying a designer’s eye for dynamic compositions done in a distinctive, razor-sharp, chiaroscuro style. Notice the tension created by the wooden spikes and the generous use of blacks. 

Mignola’s details are always telling. His Frankenstein Monster, much more striking than the one portrayed within the book, wears a torn cape, a rope belt and a chain, indicative of his rough life. Falling leaves and accessory skulls provide a graveyard ambiance.

The second issue’s cover featured languorous vampire brides under a stark moon, one of them holding a nail-studded skull. Issue number 3 shows the monsters’ climactic confrontation, attended by a flock of bats and The Monster’s murdered friend, Irena.

You could fill a book with a collection of Mike Mignola’s brilliant comic book covers. In fact, I wish someone did!

The Director: James Whale

James Whale was born on this day, July 22, 1889, in Dudley, Worcestershire, England. In a short but spectacular career in Hollywood he, of course, would direct Frankenstein (1931) and The Bride of Frankenstein (1935).

Whale first worked in theater as an actor, garnering good reviews in supporting roles. Of particular interest, in 1928, he appeared in a rare British attempt at capturing the lurid thrills of the French Grand Guignol tradition. The play was called After Death, and the man who would go on to make Frankenstein was cast as a dead man returned to life by electricity!

Here’s another interesting story: Whale, as a young man, had a talent for mimicry and he would entertain friends with pitch perfect imitations. Now zoom forward to 1952. Whale, on a European holiday, stops in London. Upon hearing that the then mostly forgotten director was in town — with only ten days to go before he sailed back to America — a young film writer, Gavin Lambert of Sight and Sound magazine, hurriedly arranged for a tribute at the British Film Institute. Whale was surprised and flattered, and attended an evening showing of his two Frankenstein pictures. It is the only such homage ever given James Whale while he lived.

On that most unique evening, Whale was invited to speak and he made a short presentation about making Frankenstein that, according to Lambert, “included a brilliant impression of Boris Karloff. The audience applauded appreciatively and the film began with an appropriate mix of laughter and horror.”

The speech was not recorded on film or sound. Whale’s few but precious words and his fleeting take on Karloff are lost to us, but what a moment it must have been.

In 2002, the city of Dudley erected a memorial to James Whale. The monument, by sculptor Charles Haddock, features a concrete stack of film cans embossed with the titles of Whale’s films. On top of this is a looping filmstrip of cast iron, with film scenes etched into its frames.

James Whale’s tragic last days were fictionalized by Christopher Bram in his excellent novel Father of Frankenstein. A superb and highly decorated film adaptation, Gods and Monsters, earned its writer-director, Bill Condon, an Oscar for Best Screenplay Based on Material from Another Medium and actor Ian McKellen won several international awards and an Oscar nomination as Best Actor.

Related: Other posts concerning James Whale. 

James Whale biographies: James Whale, A New World of Gods and Monsters, by James Curtis (University of Minnesota Press, 2003), and James Whale: A Biography or The Would-Be Gentleman, by Mark Gatiss (Cassell Lesbian and Gay Studies, 1997).

James Whale website: The James Whale Nexus.

Frankenstein 1970

It’s the fiftieth anniversary of Frankenstein 1970, first released on this date, July 20, in 1958.

Setting the film (or, at least, it’s title) a dozen years into the future allowed advertisers to proclaim “The Demon of the Atomic Era! Terror of Years to Come! Fearsome Spawn of the Cyclotron!” and admonish, “Why Fear the Horror of the Future? You Can Only Die Once!” Plotwise, there’s no real reason for the then futuristic allusion except, perhaps, to suggest that private nuclear reactors would be available within the decade. The big selling point, however, was the movie’s famous star. Producer Aubrey Schenck (who also gets a writing credit), with friend and frequent collaborator Howard W. Koch directing, certainly scored a coup by reuniting Boris Karloff (“The King of Monsters!”) with the Frankenstein name.

The film also boasts a terrific, atmospheric opening sequence as a foot-dragging and gnarly-clawed Monster stalks a screaming woman through the night. Just as the scene reaches its climax, someone yells, “Cut!”, and we find ourselves watching a film crew making a monster movie. It’s a great hook but, unfortunately, the rest of the movie fails to keep pace with the pulse-pounding intro.

Karloff, sporting a forbidding buzz cut and Nazi torture scars, always the trooper, delivers his lines with portentous aplomb, but there’s little else to celebrate here. The towering Mike Lane plays Frankenstein’s atomic monster — handed down through generations of Frankensteins — wrapped in puffy bandages, looking like a cross between the Michelin Man and the boiler robot of the classic Republic serials. The posters for the film wisely, if deceptively, featured the scarier opening sequence Monster. Lane would return to the part in 1976, playing a cartoonish version of the classic flathead Frankenstein in a short-lived TV series called The Monster Squad (no relation to the film of the same name).

In the end, when The Monster is defeated, the bandages are peeled back to reveal… Karloff’s face.

The concept of the creator and his monster as doppelgangers has been explored a number of times. The very first filmed Frankenstein, in 1910, had the Monster’s mirror reflection dissolve into that of his creator. In the same year as Frankenstein 1970 was released, Hammer Films’ The Revenge of Frankenstein had Peter Cushing’s doctor set upon by the patients he farmed for body parts only to reappear, in the final scene, fixed and stitched up anew.

Frankenstein, we find, often becomes his own Monster.

Frankenstein 1970 plods, but the trailer is fairly entertaining. You’ll see the opening sequence’s “movie” Monster, the bandaged “real” Monster appearing, Thing-like behind a door, Karloff doing his earnest best to inject some class into the proceedings, and a Fritz-like dropped jar episode substituting eyeballs for brains.

That’s the problem with this Frankenstein. No brains in sight.

Related posts: Frankenstein 1958, and The Hand of Frankenstein.

With thanks to Don Glut for the Karloff-as-Monster picture.

The Bride Foreseen

The spirit of Winter, bearing snowflakes, soars over a frozen landscape with art deco ice dog escorts in this February 1931 illustration by William P. Welsh, for Woman’s Home Companion magazine. The Illinois-based artist was an established painter, muralist and commercial illustrator. Just a coincidence, but nevertheless intriguing, the Snow Queen’s frosty hairdo anticipates the Bride of Frankenstein’s famous beehive.

There would be an even more striking precursor, a direct link to the Bride’s hair blowout, seen briefly in Edgar Ulmer’s stylish and sadistic horror film of 1934, The Black Cat.

In an eerily poetic scene, Boris Karloff, the sinister, streamlined devil worshipper, leads his ailurophobic rival, Bela Lugosi, down into the depths of his moderne fortress-mansion to witness a necrophilic secret...

Boris is transfixed (notice the reflection) in his obsessive love of Bela's dead wife suspended in a glass case. The woman floats, feet off the ground and pointed like a ballerina, her bowed head dramatically crowned by a spectacular upward splash of hair.

Universal’s makeup man, Jack Pierce, would reproduce this same effect a year later, combing Elsa Lanchester’s hair over a lightweight wire cage and adding platinum waves at the temples, to create Frankenstein's famous Bride.

The story goes that The Bride’s profile was suggested by a bust of Nefertiti. That may be, but The Black Cat’s levitating corpse is a clear antecedent and another possible source of inspiration.

Frankenstein Connections

Anyone reading this blog will allow that Frankenstein themes — and particularly the James Whale/Boris Karloff version — permeate pop culture. Case in point, there are clear Frankenstein references found in two current films.

No spoilers here, but a Frankenstein reference is a pivotal plot point in the revisionist superhero movie Hancock, written by Vincent Ngo and Vince Gilligan, directed by Peter Berg, and starring Will Smith.

Critics have been split on the film’s merits. Australian ABC North Queensland reviewer Michael Clarke is among the unimpressed, using the Frankenstein handle to illustrate his point: “There are a number of references in the film Hancock to the classic horror Frankenstein. It's a very apt reference, because in many ways, this movie is a lot like the famous creation. It certainly is a monster, lumbering, hideous and not in control of its own strength… And there's also something rather affecting and compelling about the wretched beast. But while the Frankenstein monster is one of the most enduring fictional characters, I think poor old Hancock will simply be a footnote in the history of misguided Hollywood blockbusters…”

John P. Meyer of the Dallas/Forth Worth Pegasus News is much kinder to the film, stating, “There's something to be said for a super hero film that concentrates on characterizations as much as it does on sfx - and that something is ‘bravo!’.” He also acknowledges the Frankenstein reference: His review is entitled “The Curse of Frankenstein”.

The Hancock billboard pictured here overlooks Dundas Square in the heart of downtown Toronto.

The other Frankenstein reference appears in the excellent Hellboy II: The Golden Army. If you pay attention, you’ll notice Universal monster classics popping up on screens in Hellboy’s digs. In one scene, the interaction between Big Red and his fiery girlfriend Liz is assisted by a scene from The Bride of Frankenstein. Nice touch, nicely done.

Incidentally, the Hellboy movie features once and future Frankenstein actors. There’s Luke Goss, as the dark-hearted elf prince Nuada, who played the noble Creature in the Hallmark TV Frankenstein of 2004, and then there’s Doug Jones, the soulful Abe Sapiens, recently singled out by director Guillermo del Toro as his choice to play The Monster in an eventual adaptation of the novel (previously mentioned here). We’ll have to wait on that one as del Toro has hired on to direct Tolkien’s The Hobbit for producer Peter Jackson.

Meanwhile, we can enjoy Doug Jones’ extraordinary work in Hellboy II, in no less than three different parts. In addition to the heroic amphibian, Jones plays brief scenes as a curious box-headed Chamberlain, and an unforgettable Angel of Death (see photo).

Hancock trailers and website.

Hellboy II: The Golden Army trailers, and website.

Luke Goss website.

Doug Jones’s website. Check the photo pages for a Jones’ numerous monster and fantasy makeup performances.

With thanks to Frankensteinia reader David Dill.

Super Frankenstein Mask

A simple, striking ad for a Don Post Frankenstein mask offered by Famous Monsters of Filmland magazine, circa 1964.

For all its success, publisher James Warren couldn’t get advertising agencies interested in his monster movie magazine. Famous Monsters was still too small to compete with the monthly combined sales figures of countless comic book titles, which is where all the young teen-oriented ads for bicycles, cereal, candy and air rifles ended up.

Warren, ever innovative and resolutely independent, came up with an original, in house solution. He set up a mail order service and turned his back pages into a catalog for, well, stuff. You could send away for Aurora monster kits and monster-related paperbacks, 8MM movie clips and spoken word records. You could order rubber bats, inflatable snakes, Venus fly trap plants (“actually eats insects and bits of meat!”), skull-shaped ceramic mugs, and a whistle sold as a “Werewolf Siren”. Binoculars were called “Phantom Opera Glasses”. You could also order a parachute, a miniature radio “powerful enough to pick up local station broadcasts”, a hundred magnets for one dollar, and even a live monkey. Best of all were the rubber monster masks.

A staple of novelty, joke and costume shops, the masks included a Mummy, a Vampira-like Girl Vampire, The Screaming Skull, Shock Monster, a Gorilla and The Horrible Melting Man, but the perennial best-seller by far was the classic Frankenstein Monster mask available as a regular “Full Face” mask for two dollars, or a “Super De-luxe” over-the-head version, for a (then) whopping $3.98.

The Super Frankenstein ad refers to the cover of Famous Monsters #1. That was publisher Warren himself under the mask.

The Covers of Frankenstein: Alter Ego No. 41

A Bernie Wrightson illustration graces the cover of the special Frankenstein issue, October 2004, of Alter Ego, the excellent comics history magazine edited by Roy Thomas.

Alter Ego uses a unique flip-book format: Turn it over and half of the magazine — under another cover — is devoted to the Golden Age’s Fawcett Comics, home of the original Captain Marvel (Shazam!). Nevertheless, the tightly packed, massively illustrated 52 pages devoted here to Frankenstein comics are easily worth the (very reasonable) price of admission.

Contents include an interview with Frankenstein illustrator Bernie Wrightson, and an indispensable history of The Monster’s adventures in comic books by Frankenstein expert Don Glut. Other articles include a look at the rare Spirit of Frankenstein stories (1949-1952) from Adventures into the Unknown comics, Dell Comics’ superhero Frankenstein, and DC Comics’ various stabs at the theme, notably the Wolfman/Kaluta collaboration of the early 70’s, The Spawn of Frankenstein. Eye-popping art includes some terrific Frankenstein sketches by Alex Toth (an example here at left) and a generous sampling of Dick Briefer’s Frankenstein daily strips!

Alter Ego #41 is an important, enlightening and entertaining resource for Frankenstein in comic books and I recommend it most highly. The issue is still available from the publisher here.

Note: A 25^th Anniversary edition of Bernie Wrightson’s Frankenstein will be published by Dark Horse Books this coming Fall. I’ll keep you posted on that one.

Celebrating Frankenstein

No sooner is Monster Bash 2008 wrapped up that plans for next year’s edition are announced. In June 2009, the annual vintage horror convention — witness the ad illustrated by Joe "Sorko" Schovitz — will be dedicated to our favorite monster!

Guests announced include Universal series veterans Donnie Dunagan, the son of The Son of Frankenstein (1939) who befriended the Karloff “Giant”, and Janet Ann Gallow, who charmed the Chaney Monster in The Ghost of Frankenstein (1942). Also on hand, the one and only Teenage Frankenstein, Gary Conway, and Butch Patrick, the werewolf son of Herman Munster. And that’s just the Frankenstein part of a sterling guest list that includes Lagoon Creature Ricou Browning, TV Hulk Lou Ferrigno and Hammer era star Yvonne Monlaur.

Check the Monster Bash website for more info and start making plans to kick off the summer of ’08 and celebrate The Monster in Butler, Pennsylvania.

Meanwhile, July is Frankenstein Month at Eccentric Cinema.

Site host Brian Lindsey has collected reviews to no less than 23 Frankenstein films, encompassing the entire Universal and Hammer catalogs, and rounded out with independent jobs that run from fun and entertaining, like Frankenstein Conquers The World and Lady Frankenstein, to the downright excruciating, like Frankenstein Island and Frankenstein’s Castle of Freaks. All reviews are lively, informative, and accompanied by a short introductory sound clip.

"Imperishable"

Following up on my last post, reviews are still coming in for the French theatrical re-release of Frankenstein and Bride of Frankenstein. It’s fascinating to read new, contemporary critics discussing these classics. Here’s a sampling, in rough translation:

The daily Libération mentions “the return of two magnificent films by James Whale… with Boris Karloff as the unsettling cadaveric Creature”. Annie Copperman of Les Échos enthusiastically notes the release of the two classics starring “the legendary Boris Karloff”.

On écranlarge.com (“the big screen”) Francis Moury reviews both films. Of Frankenstein, Moury says it is “remarkable in its dramatic power and beauty. It is the undeniable matrix for the entire filmography on this theme...”

About James Whale’s direction, Moury writes, “The scene, in the final chase, where the Creator and Creature momentarily eye each other suspiciously is an example of admirable dramatic economy… Whale had a feeling for beauty and tragedy… A refined aesthete, here, he attains the level of authentic visionary genius.”

Of the performances, Moury calls Karloff’s interpretation “unsettling”, Colin Clive’s Frankenstein is “feverish… nervous and original”, Dwight Frye “imbues the character of the sadistic hunchback and body snatcher with a virulence that is very modern and surprisingly violent” and Edward van Sloan plays his part with “finesse”, but the other roles are “conventional and uninteresting”.

Reviewing Bride of Frankenstein. Moury calls it “the absolute masterpiece of the entire Universal cycle” and a work of “authentic surrealism”. The script’s symbolism “makes the Creature an emblem of human suffering, a sort of deformed and cursed Christ figure… (who) attains the noblest stage of conscience, that of sacrifice freely consented... (resulting in) final, salutary and redemptive destruction.”

On the cultural site evene.fr (“The Event”), Adrien Gombaud reviews Frankenstein and Daphné Cabaille covers Bride of Frankenstein. Gombaud writes, “Frankenstein’s creature returns this week… with his waxen face, half-closed eyelids, and immense hands as cold as death… A mute hero in a talking film, Karloff’s Monster is a being out of phase, derelict, arms reaching for the sky, a lost body looking for a soul.”

Gombaud singles out the Monster’s confrontation with Elizabeth: “A scene of sublime ambiguity where (The Monster) abandons the creator’s fiancée, overturned on a bed in her bright wedding gown. The window is open, The Monster has fled. There remains an aura of fear and poetry.”

Daphné Cabaille, discussing Bride of Frankenstein, notes “the usual gothic apparatus of chandeliers, crypts, satanic bonfires, disquieting shadows and lugubrious landscapes” and enjoys Whale’s “very British humor” illustrated by the “diabolical and cynical Doctor Pretorius” and the “colorful” servant, Minnie, adding, “Humor and horror, as it turns out, play well together.”

Boris Karloff’s performance is called “sober and profound”. The evene.fr reviews are accompanied by video clips: The Monster’s tragic lakeside encounter with little Maria, and the Bride of Frankenstein trailer.

In an article called “The Return of Frankenstein”, Jacky Bornet of France3 calls the two films “Indispensable to all who love the cinema (and) unforgettable in their stunning beauty.” Boris Karloff’s performance is “breathtaking”, and “the makeup created by Jack Pierce for Karloff is the foundation of one of the cinema’s most famous icons”. The Bride of Frankenstein, Bornet writes, “uses parody while respecting the codes of the horror film... (Whale) creates one of the most beautiful fantasy films ever made. Its charm is imperishable.”

“Imperishable” means “enduring forever”. Some 75 years after they were made, Frankenstein and The Bride of Frankenstein, it seems, have lost none of their magic and their power to enthrall.

Image at top is Carlotta Films’ die-cut pressbook for the new French theatrical release.

The posters are from previous French re-releases. The one at left is the poster for the 1946 edition. See it larger here.

Frankenstein and Fiancée Re-Released

James Whale’s Frankenstein (1931) and Bride of Frankenstein (1935) are currently enjoying a new theatrical release (as of June 25) in France, accompanied by new, beautifully designed computer-colored posters.

Critic Jean-Baptiste Morain of Les Inrocks notes that “Eighty years after they were made, these two popular and legendary works still fascinate thanks to their principal actors, Boris Karloff and Elsa Lanchester… and their expressionistic imagery of leaning sets, painted backdrops and chiaroscuro.”

On Critikat.com, Vincent Avenel celebrates James Whale’s influence on the horror genre, Boris Karloff’s performance as the “desperately naïve and inexperienced monster¨, and Jack Pierce’s “eternally recognizable” makeup. Fellow critic Clément Graminiès admires the “eccentric” director James Whale and his “highly subversive” treatment of the subject matter.

Virgile Dumez of Allo-Ciné, reviewing Bride of Frankenstein, writes, “Wandering like ghosts in giant castles, through foggy cemeteries and down into cobwebbed crypts, the characters are all seeking love or some form of recognition, only to find death and incomprehension… The Bride of Frankenstein remains the undisputed masterpiece of Universal Studios… (and) a major masterpiece of gothic cinema”.

Another James Whale classic, The Invisible Man (1933) gets its French theatrical re-release in August.

The films are distributed by Carlotta Films of Paris.

A follow-up: More reviews of the French re-release.

Teenage Frankenstein Meets Teenage Werewolf

On this day, half a century ago, in the very busy Frankenstein year of 1958, American International Pictures released How To Make a Monster.

In retrospect, the film plays like a fond farewell to the AIP era of teen-centric monster movies, reuniting its Teenage Werewolf and Frankenstein in a fourth-wall skirting story about a Hollywood studio closing down its horror movie department. In fact, AIP would soon abandon its drive-in roots for the comparatively rarified air of the Poe-Corman-Price gothics.

Muscle-bound Gary Conway returns as the scramble-faced Teenage Frankenstein and Gary Clarke steps in as the dog-nose lycanthrope, replacing the original Teenage Werewolf, Michael Landon, who wanted to move on to more serious fare. An earnest Robert H. Harris plays a mad makeup man who uses drugged cosmetics and hypnosis to zombify his young monster actors into killing studio suits. For its blazing climax, the film abruptly switches from black & white to full color, a trick first used to good effect in I Was a Teenage Frankenstein (1957). Ten brisk minutes of color footage was sufficient for the producers to advertise “Ghastly Ghouls in Flaming Color!” on the film’s garish posters.

It was truly the end of an era as the final fire scene sacrifices the monster masks — mostly the work of the great Paul Blaisdell — used in celebrated Fifties AIP horrors like The She Creature and The Invasion of the Saucer Men.

How To Make a Monster was remade, in name only, in 2001.

There’s an excellent website devoted to producer Herman Cohen, featuring posters, lobby cards and behind-the-scenes stills from his movies, including How To Make a Monster. Here's the trailer for the film.

Here’s a link to a good interview, conducted by Tom Weaver, where Cohen discusses this film.

Ray Young, on the Flickhead blog, reflected on director Herbert L. Strock and the film’s possible gay subtext.

The film is available on DVD, backed with another Cohen/Strock collaboration, Blood of Dracula (1957).