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Frankenstein 1970
Frankenstein 1970 is to the Universal Frankenstein films of the 1930s-1940s what Never Say Never Again was to the James Bond series. It resurrects the original star and brings him back in almost-top form, in a nostalgic waltz down memory lane that earns the right to be considered in the series’ continuity. Yes, Frankenstein 1970 wasn’t made by Universal, but there is no reason not to consider it part of that canon. First of all, it’s cleverer and more engaging than any of the sequels past 1939’s Son of Frankenstein. Second of all, it stars Boris Karloff, the original Universal Frankenstein Monster, as the last living descendent of the first Dr. Frankenstein; thus, the creation becomes the creator, and the series comes full circle. Lined up next to the first, 1930s Universal films—Frankenstein, The Bride of Frankenstein, and The Son of Frankenstein (1939)—Frankenstein 1970 (which was actually made in 1958) is a grossly inferior picture. The earlier films emphasized genuinely creepy (and by now archetypal) visuals and philosophical approaches in their conceptualization of Mary Shelley’s gory classic for mild-mannered filmgoers of the 1930s. Many scenes, such as the creation sequence and the Monster’s first appearance, are still as scary as they’ve ever been. Boris Karloff’s simultaneously frightening and sympathetic portrayal of the Monster is also, of course, the most enduring cinematic demon of all time. Frankenstein 1970 never pretends to reach as deeply into the viewer’s psyche as these three masterpieces, and it primarily aims for camp instead of chills. But next to the subsequent sequels of the 1940s—The Ghost of Frankenstein, Frankenstein Meets the Wolfman, House of Frankenstein, et al—Frankenstein 1970 is a slightly superior exercise. The later, post-Karloff films got lost in cheap special effects and the dumbing down of the Monster, reducing him to a mindless brute who moved about as a pawn of a different mad scientist or other monsters who wanted to use him for their own agenda (at one point, Dracula wants to put the brain of Lou Costello into the Monster to turn him into a stupid but loyal slave; Karloff was evidently not a fan). The Monster was played by a variety of different actors in these films, but it didn’t matter who was actually in the makeup because he was no longer an interesting character. He was only a Force to instill rage in angry mobs and make beautiful bombshells scream their lungs out. The earlier films had heart; the later ones were cash-ins. Frankenstein 1970 contains most of the hokiness of the 1940s films, and the Monster is still a mindless Force. But it also features Karloff in a turn as the deranged Dr. Frankenstein, and the performance is an elegy for his sympathetic Monster. In this sequel, Dr. Frankenstein is a brilliant scientist driven into madness by the Nazis. They tortured him and mutilated his face during World War II, when he was still a medical doctor dedicated to preserving life instead of creating it. It is difficult not to feel pity for the doctor as he schemes to create a perfect man, because if he hadn’t been driven insane by the Nazis, we suspect that he probably would have stuck to more basic, practical surgeries that would help him maintain a more honorable reputation. But now, as his fragile body fails him and his scarred face reminds him of his ill-treatment, it is not a difficult decision for him to slip into his family’s more macabre practices. Especially now that he is working in an atomic age, which provides far better resources for monster-making than eighteenth-century Geneva. An elderly Karloff as a frail Dr. Frankenstein seems as obvious a choice as an elderly Olivier as King Lear. Of course, it is a delightfully hammy performance, in which the crazed doctor smiles kindly as he lures character after character into the basement of his dark castle so that they can fall victim to his experiments. But we don’t mind the ham; this is Karloff, after all, the man who invented the innocent smile that disguises unspeakably evil intentions. By the time he starred in the title role here, he was well-established as a staple of the B-horror movie, and no movie better epitomizes his immense charm as a villain than this one. No one else can look at his half-made creation and mutter, “Let’s find you some eyes,” and simultaneously sound like he’s utterly serious and having the most fun an actor can have. He belongs in a haunted castle like Errol Flynn belongs in tights, or John Wayne on a horse. Karloff once said, “You could throw a brick out of a second-story window and hit a hundred people who could have played my roles. I was just lucky enough to have been standing on the right corner when the brick was thrown.” This statement only reveals Karloff’s humility, not his ability. Watch the way his Dr. Frankenstein’s face twitches in pain as he recalls the horror of the concentration camp. He is a genuinely scarred, traumatized man, and we pity him. Now, contrast that contorted face with the way his eyebrows furrow diabolically as he scans the cast of characters, sizing them up to see whose organs belong where on his creation. Karloff is evoking the same kind of strategy that he did for his Monster—he allows himself to be a towering presence of evil while still demanding that we take his character seriously as a misunderstood creature who wasn’t born evil, but was rather made evil by abuse and prejudice. Certainly Karloff’s Frankenstein is not the first villain we have such shifted feelings for, but who else in the sound era could provoke this reaction while hidden under such thick makeup (bolts and a flat-head as the Monster, a disfigured face here)? Only Lon Chaney Sr. of the silent era matches Karloff’s talent. There is no movie with Karloff, no matter how cheesy, that was not better because he was in it. It helps that Frankenstein 1970 is intelligent enough to know how privileged it is to have Karloff onboard, and it creates a plot around him that is a humorous nod to all the Frankenstein films before it, particularly the Universal films to which it owes so much. The story involves a filmmaking crew shooting a Frankenstein film in the original castle, where the last descendent of Frankenstein lives. The producer/director is paying Dr. Frankenstein with scientific equipment; the filmmaker should have realized that this is akin to paying Bozo the Clown with cream pies, but then we wouldn’t have all the gruesome fun that promises to follow. That the various characters are clichés—the dashing hero, the beautiful heroine, and creepy butler, etc.—is easier to forgive than in the later Universal films, since everyone here is clearly aware that they’re in a Frankenstein movie. Most of the film strives to remind us of the old Universal/Karloff collaborations. It was filmed in 1958, when most films were in color, but Frankenstein 1970 keeps things in glorious black-and-white like the previous films in the series. The equipment Dr. Frankenstein uses to bring his new Monster to life also looks like a scaled-down version of the Universal sets, which we can explain by either (choose one) the shoestring budget or the idea that in the atomic age, the good doctor can scale down and work with less. The Monster also moves about very much like the Universal giant, even though he spends most of his time walking around with a bandaged trashcan on top of his head. This would be unpardonably laughable in any other Frankenstein film, in which the Monster’s gruesome makeup is always expected to be on display. But this time around, it is the creator’s show, not the creation’s. Besides, after half-a-dozen films of being just a Force, the trashcan head doesn’t make the Monster any more or less interesting. I’m having fun reminiscing over my love for the old Universals with this article, but I suppose I need to get down to the often snobby business of film criticism. As an admirer of Karloff, and as someone who grew up with his Frankenstein films, I enjoyed many aspects of Frankenstein 1970, and most of this review reads very much like a glowing recommendation. But I must be truthful: Frankenstein 1970 certainly isn’t a good film. It’s cheesy, it’s dumb, and it’s mostly forgettable. I cannot justify a favorable verdict for it, despite its clever approach to the oft-used material and Karloff’s inspired performance. In the end, it is probably just another monster-in-the-basement movie, and I don’t imagine anyone but Karloff and Universal Frankenstein fans finding its overacting or inane writing tolerable. Yes, it’s better than The Ghost of Frankenstein, but that doesn’t take much effort. Without Karloff, Frankenstein 1970 would probably have been indistinguishable from other ripoffs. But oh, to see the great Boris Karloff as Baron Frankenstein, smiling to himself wickedly as he devises his schemes. If you plan to view all of the Universal Frankenstein films, you are already going to be watching some bad movies. Go ahead and end the marathon with this one, guilt free. Cast: A film by Allied Artists Picture Corporation. Directed by Howard Koch. Written by Charles A. Moses and Richard H. Landau. No M.P.A.A. rating—fine for kids. Running time: 83 minutes. Original United States theatrical release date: July 20, 1958. Questions? Comments? E-mail me: danel_the_tinman@hotmail.com |
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