FRANKENSTEIN and The Bride of Frankenstein Explained

… and a bed in the center; a hunchbacked assistant and the now-iconic cry of ecstasy, “It’s alive!” These elements have become firmly entrenched in popular culture as inseparable parts of the story of Frankenstein and his creation, even though they are largely absent from Mary Shelley’s literary original. Nevertheless, Frankenstein has arguably become the most recognizable horror from Universal’s famous “monster” series and one of the most iconic works in the entire history of the genre.
The production of Frankenstein was a natural progression after the enormous success of Dracula just a few months earlier. Much of that success was thanks to the legendary performance of Bela Lugosi, who was initially supposed to play the lead role in Universal’s next horror film. However, the Hungarian actor failed to reach an agreement with the producers and director, leading to him stepping down from the role (or, as some claim, being dismissed along with director Robert Florey). Today, this is considered one of the worst decisions of Lugosi’s career, as Frankenstein turned out to be an even bigger hit than the story of the infamous vampire. James Whale took over as director, and Boris Karloff was cast as the monster—a role that would become to him what Dracula had been to Lugosi: the role of a lifetime. It should be noted, however, that Karloff owes his cultural immortality not only to his acting but also to Jack Pierce and his extraordinary makeup work. This included several hours of makeup application, metal rods in the costume that restricted knee movement, and high platform shoes that gave the monster its distinctive way of walking.
The plot of Frankenstein hardly needs much introduction. Nearly everyone knows the story of the scientist who brings a corpse to life, only for it to escape the laboratory, commit murder, and ultimately face a tragic end at the hands of local villagers. The film’s central characters are Henry Frankenstein and his creation. Henry appears as a man teetering on the edge of madness, consumed by a desire to bridge the gap between life and death and create life himself. The act of creation is particularly emphasized, as Henry, as he explicitly states, does not aim to resurrect the dead but to bring a new being into existence—hence the importance of the monster as something formed by Frankenstein from various bodies, rather than the reanimation of a specific deceased individual. The young scientist seeks to feel like a god-creator but is unprepared to face the consequences of his actions.
The monster, meanwhile, refuses to submit to the control of its “father.” It wants to explore the world on its own and learn about it. Some criticize Whale for “dumbing down” the monster compared to the book, as his version seems almost devoid of intelligence, communicating only through grunts as a fabricated being. However, this deepens the problem suggested by Mary Shelley, namely the question of whether humans are inherently evil. The director unequivocally agrees with the author of the literary original, showing that the monster’s violence stems solely from its fear and lack of guidance in the world. The creature is like a small child that needs life experience and tries to gain it (as seen in the scene where it throws a girl into a pond, thinking she will float like the flowers earlier). Unfortunately, its encounters with humans always end in tragedy.
At the time of its release, Frankenstein caused unease not only because of the monster but also due to its pervasive atmosphere of broken taboos and violated decorum. Whale was unafraid to show the legs of a hanged man, a scene of a coffin being dug up, or the drowning of a child (though the latter scene was cut from the film and only rediscovered and restored in the 1980s). Thanks to its relatively short runtime, the film’s dramatic pacing could be brought to near perfection (for its time). The director initially delays revealing Henry’s plans and showing the monster, and as the plot progresses, the tension rarely wanes. However, it must be acknowledged that Frankenstein has aged somewhat, and its horror scenes no longer scare modern audiences. The romantic subplot, while necessary for the story and emotionally relieving for 1930s viewers, now feels particularly dull, largely due to the complete lack of chemistry between the romantic leads.
Whale’s film also deserves praise for its craftsmanship. The set design, inspired by both the distortions of German Expressionism and the tradition of salon melodramas, is especially impressive. The camera moves fluidly between rooms, often showing characters in wide shots, as if Whale, aware of his film’s visual polish, wanted to show it off. The unnatural lighting, full of stark contrasts between light and shadow, especially in close-ups of Karloff’s face, also became a hallmark of Frankenstein. The only drawback is the lack of music (apart from the opening credits and a few scenes of wedding festivities), which at times feels like a missed opportunity. While the film does not rely on emotional manipulation, subtle musical enhancements in certain scenes could have been a significant benefit.
Frankenstein also faced censorship. Besides the previously mentioned removal of the scene where the girl is thrown into the pond, censors also cut Henry’s line after creating the monster: “Now I know what it feels like to be God!” An interesting tidbit in this regard is the film’s opening scene, specifically the monologue by Edward Van Sloan (who plays Dr. Waldman), delivered before the credits. He warns more sensitive viewers about the horror the film may evoke. This warning was added due to the controversy among religious groups over the theme of “playing God.” Notably, an early version of this monologue was written by none other than John Huston, who was not yet a well-known figure at the time.
The immense success of Frankenstein, as well as other Universal horror films, led to a sequel just four years later: The Bride of Frankenstein. This sequel expanded upon the story of the original film and was so closely tied to it that today both films can essentially be watched as a single continuous story. James Whale returned as director, with Colin Clive reprising his role as Henry and, of course, Boris Karloff returning as the monster. This time, Karloff was joined by Elsa Lanchester in a dual role as Mary Shelley and the titular bride. Interestingly, the sequel ignores the optimistic epilogue added to Frankenstein, in which Henry and Elizabeth “live happily ever after,” instead beginning exactly where the mill fire left off.
The Bride of Frankenstein is a significantly more mature film than its predecessor, aspiring in many places to be an existential drama. Whale uses tried-and-true visual techniques, such as impressive set design and low-key lighting, but wields them with greater mastery. There is noticeable progress in the use of framing, camera perspective, editing for dramatic effect, and, finally, the inclusion of music composed by the legendary Franz Waxman. The director also handles the film’s themes with greater finesse. While the sequel addresses similar topics to Frankenstein, it develops them in meaningful ways. Henry is disillusioned by previous events, but this does not mean he abandons his experiments. Encouraged by the demonic Dr. Pretorius and his bizarre achievements (deliberately left vague here to avoid spoilers), Henry agrees to create another being. Whale clearly suggests, however, that this is no longer playing God but playing the devil.
The monster’s story is even more compelling. Although it continues to suffer mistreatment from humans, in The Bride of Frankenstein it learns to distinguish good from evil and eventually encounters someone kind. It experiences friendship, human compassion, and the joys of simple pleasures such as music, food, and even a sip of alcohol or a puff of a cigar now and then. It also begins to speak, giving Boris Karloff the opportunity to imbue his character with even greater humanity. While the monster already displayed subtle depth in the first film, its tragedy becomes even more pronounced in the sequel. The creature becomes more human, lonely, and longing for acceptance, which it cannot find in a brutal world.
The Christian motifs featured in the film are also noteworthy—crosses appear frequently, especially the large crucifix in the cemetery scene, and when the monster is captured by the villagers, it adopts a pose reminiscent of the crucified Christ. Furthermore, the last meal consumed by the monster during its visit to the hermit’s home (shortly after the hermit plays Franz Schubert’s Ave Maria on the violin) consists of bread and wine. There was also a planned scene in which the monster would attempt to “rescue” a figure of Jesus and take it down from the cemetery cross, but censors refused to allow it. The same fate befell several of Henry’s lines comparing himself to God—just as in the previous film. The Bride of Frankenstein fell victim to the censor’s scissors, much like its predecessor. The number of murders was reduced, both those shown on screen and those merely mentioned. Additionally, several shots from the film’s framing sequence were cut because Joseph Breen, Hollywood’s chief censor, objected to the overly exposed cleavage of Elsa Lanchester playing Mary Shelley. This is, of course, a sign of the times, but as a curiosity and for personal evaluation, I am including a still of the actress in her role as the famous writer.
The Bride of Frankenstein may not have left as deep an impression on audiences as its predecessor (apart from the iconic hairstyle of the titular character, inspired by depictions of Egyptian Queen Nefertiti), but it remains one of the best Universal horror films of the 1930s, according to some even surpassing Frankenstein. Both films regularly appear on lists of the greatest horror films of all time; they have also been added to the United States Library of Congress’s registry as works that are “culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant.” The immense artistic and commercial successes of both films paved the way for subsequent sequels, though none left as lasting a mark on the history of cinema as James Whale’s depiction of Frankenstein and his alienated, sensitive creation.