Queer Doubling
(originally posted on IMDb 23 August 2018)

The sequel "Bride of Frankenstein" essentially improves upon every slight deficiency of the original "Frankenstein" (1931), and it does so largely by doubling everything. It's a sequel, after all. Instead of one mad scientist, there are two, with the second madder than the first; there are two "brides" of Frankenstein; two monstrous creations, the second more perfect than the original supposed abomination; and two narratives with the inclusion of a prologue of Mary Shelley, the author of the original novel, narrating the main story, in which she is attended by two men (Lord Byron and Percy Shelley), just as the monster's bride (played by the same actress in dual roles) is attended by two doctors before the original monster interferes; and even within the main story, there's a dual focus for the most part between the scientists playing God and the monster on the loose; and within the prologue, another narrative via the recap of the prior film as narrated by Lord Byron. There's a mise-en-abyme, too--doubling by a scene within a scene--with the homunculi of Dr. Pretorius. Added to this is the improved sound quality of a 1935 production compared to the creaky 1931 original, the addition of a musical score throughout, canted camera angles, sustained low-key lighting, grander set designs with a multitude of Gothic arches, a more elaborate laboratory décor, quicker editing (its average shot length of about 4 and 1/2 seconds is about half that of the '31 film) and a lot of camp.

In my review of "Frankenstein," I preferred to view the monster as an imperfect metaphor for film: edited together from different parts that were once alive but now dead, reanimated by the projection of electricity, and befalling disaster like inflammable nitrate film stock in a fiery climax, complete with a windmill turning like a film reel on a projector. "Bride of Frankenstein" may be viewed likewise, with the addition of the homunculi sequence stepping in as a kind of film-within-a-film to make the self-reflexivity explicit. The sequel is open to other interesting interpretations, though, besides the basic level of grotesque horror. The Christ allegory is more obvious this time, with the monster continuing as the "son" of a "god," his being lifted up as if crucified in one angry mob scene, there being Christian iconography prominently displayed in several sets, and, ultimately, the monster even commits something of a self-sacrificial act. With all of the doubling, Shelley's original Gothic dopplegänger theme is more prominent, too, and Pretorius becomes yet another, along with the monster, reverse-mirror-image antagonist to Dr. Frankenstein. Rather less fortunate in regards to doubles is that the thankless part of Elizabeth is replaced by another actress, although I'd say a better one merely because she delivers her silly lines deliciously well; I especially love how Valerie Hobson says, "it's blasphemous and wicked." Una O'Connor is also a fun addition as the lady's handmaid Minnie. Meanwhile, Dwight Frye, the hunchback in the original, returns, but in another guise as the murderous Karl--a comparatively small part, which, reportedly, was larger in the script, but later reduced.

Perhaps, the most interesting way--and one I'm sure has been done to death--to interpret "Bride of Frankenstein" is a queer reading of it, especially given the reported homosexuality of director James Whale and others involved in the production and the film's campy treatment. The camp is announced from the beginning, especially by Gavin Gordon as Lord Byron rolling every word off his tongue in such an affected manner and by Elsa Lanchester's giddy portrayal of a paradoxical Mary, ludicrously feminine in her knitting while supposedly masculine in her telling of horror stories. Although fitting given its inclusion of the author within the film, it's, nevertheless, rather surprising that "Bride of Frankenstein" is more faithful to the novel than is the 1931 version, although both are generally loose reworkings of it. Although hardly as eloquent as his literary counterpart, the monster, at least, speaks this time, and, as in the book, he threatens the life of Elizabeth so as to force Frankenstein into making him a mate. He also saves a girl's life only to be scorned nonetheless and tries to make friends with a blind man.

Yet, unlike Shelley's story, this Frankenstein fulfills his creature's request. This creation scene is also the most homoerotic of the series. Portrayed by two reported homosexual or, at least, bisexual actors, Colin Clive and Ernest Thesiger, Pretorius steals Frankenstein away from his beloved, as they retreat to work together in a phallic-shaped laboratory tower to give birth to a woman without a mother. Also notice how much more attention is given in this sequel as opposed to the original in the upward lifting of the creature to give it life. Next to Kenneth Branagh's 1994 version, it's the most sexually-suggestive creation sequence and far more phallic and devious than most, with canted angles, dramatic music and quick cuts of darkly-lit views of Frankenstein and Pretorius as they frantically create life together. Besides a better realization and expansion of the dopplegänger theme in Shelley's book, "Bride of Frankenstein" is also quite apt in its misogynistic depiction of man creating life without a mother. Expanding on this, the bride is punished by the male monster after she affirms her self-agency and, possibly sexual, preference for Frankenstein while screaming at the sight of him. Also notice the patronizing emphasis on the procuring of the female's heart, whereas it was the brain that was most vital for the male monster.

Plus, Thesiger was a master of camping it up; he and the monsters (Karloff and Lanchester) steal the show. No other Universal monster movie or Frankenstein film is quite as enjoyable and succinct on so many levels.

(Included on my list of 50--and counting--Frankenstein films.)