By Sarah Wharton

After Dan’s scathing review of the over-use of CGI in modern filmmaking, I decided to hark back to a time when all that was needed was some facepaint and a couple of fake bolts stuck to one’s neck. That one, of course, is Boris Karloff, the man who defined how monsters would be played from then on out, with his moving performance as Henry Frankenstein’s creation (I know it’s Victor in the novel but it’s Henry here, played by Colin Clive).

Karloff, beautifully directed by James Whale, plays the Monster as a living embodiment of the nature/nurture debate. He is accidentally given a “criminal” brain and so it is assumed by his creator that he will be a criminal. However, in the Monster’s first appearance he stands child-like in the sunshine, clearly delighted to come out of the darkness and shows no signs of antagonism. It is only when Frankenstein’s assistant relentlessly torments the Monster that he becomes violent. Even at these point, Karloff elicits sympathy from the viewer. The Monster did not ask to be created but he was, and now his creator will not teach him or take responsibility for him. How is he supposed to know any different? Allegedly, Karloff received letters from children saying they had felt sorry for the Monster and did not want him to die at the end. Karloff, a well-educated gentleman actor who loved children could not have been more delighted.

James Whale’s Frankenstein is also an interesting film in terms of its homosexual subtext. Early in the film, we learn that Henry Frankenstein has holed himself away in his laboratory, refusing to see even his fiancé. He has also postponed their wedding indefinitely. The analogy is obvious and, in many ways, crude. Henry is avoiding his wedding in order to create a man. His future wife, Elizabeth, seems to be aware of this but is keeping a stiff upper lip and ignoring it, seemingly hoping that he’ll just forget everything and marry her anyway. After his experiments go horribly wrong and his created man renders him disappointed, Henry agrees to marry Elizabeth. This should be a happy event but neither characters seems to be that pleased. Clive plays Henry as a man who is terribly fond of Elizabeth but has no more sexual attraction towards her than if she were a lamppost. This is highlighted by Henry’s friend, Victor, who is clearly in love with Elizabeth himself. His behaviour towards her is one of flirtation and passion, Henry’s is polite affection.

It is easy to look at Whale’s Frankenstein and say that Henry is never punished for creating the monster. He is injured but survives, no one in the town discovers it was his creation and, to top it off, he gets the girl. However, I would argue that that is Henry’s punishment. For not taking responsibility for his actions and for not facing up to his desires, Henry is forced to abandon them for a life with a wife he does not want, in turn preventing Elizabeth from marrying Victor, a man who could give her the love and passion that she herself desires.

It is well know that Whale himself was gay. Could it be that Frankenstein is really a film asking gay men of 1931 to face up to their sexuality before they hurt both themselves and those closest to them? Or does knowledge of the director’s personal life colour a reading of the film?