Frankenstein (1931)

James Whale's 1931 masterpiece Frankenstein is another of those great, old movies, like Dracula, which has become so deeply ingrained into our society that I doubt there isn't a single person in this country who does not recognize the the film's iconic images. The star of Frankenstein's - Boris Karloff with his flat-top head and the bolts protruding from his neck - is easily one of the most recognizable figures in all of American popular culture. And yet, like Bela Lugosi's iconic film, very few people in this country have ever actually seen the original film version of this timeless story. In this regard, the 1931 Frankenstein is much like Herman Melville's Moby Dick - everybody knows what's it's about, but almost no one has actually read it (yes, in fact, I have). And that's really too bad too, because it's such a good movie. And it's the start of so much. The icon that a thousand other images were built on. It's not only a masterpiece; it's the master. The model. The mold for all that followed it, from the Hammer films of the sixties, to Andy Warhol's travesty, to Frankenberry. They all owe their existence to this film. Not to Mary Wollstonecraft Shelly's novel of the same name. She never explains how the monster is made, and her monster is a very well-spoken creature, even though he learned to speak by listening to peasants. No, the images of the brooding, grunting, monster, the bolts of electricity coursing into the monster, bringing it to life, the ancient castles and tiny villages that resemble nothing in the real world, old or new, all of this comes to us directly from the mind of James Whale.

It all starts in a graveyard. The image of death brooding over the scene. Mourners filing away from the graveside. Two men appear. They rush to the fresh grave and start digging furiously. Next you see them cutting down the corpse of a criminal who was hanged on the highroad. You know who they are. Don't need me to fill you in on that one. It's Dr. Victor Frankenstein (Colin Clive) and...no, not Igor...Fritz (Dwight Frye). Yeah, I know, Fritz kind of loses something in the translation doesn't it. Anyway, they get the body all sewed together, then Fritz is sent after a brain. Remember that wonderful scene in Young Frankenstein when Igor goes and steals the wrong brain? Mel Brooks copied that scene almost frame for frame from Whale's movie. Fritz gets the wrong brain. Dr. Frankenstein puts it into his creation. The rest, as they say, is movie history. The electrical storm comes. The lightning flashes. The machines are started up. Electricity flashes through the old watchtower. The monster lives. But he's not controllable. He's a mad man. He kills Fritz. Granted, Fritz had it coming to him. Tormented the poor creature constantly. Still, they'll have to destroy him. Victor's old teacher, Dr. Waldman (Edward Van Sloan), will do the deed. But the monster's no dummy. He knows what's up. As Waldman prepares to destroy the monster, the monster kills him. Then he escapes. Who wouldn't. He kills a little girl by accident. Seems she didn't float as well as the flowers did. What a tragedy. The angry villagers go after the monster. Pitchforks and torches. We all know the scene. Victor finds him, and they struggle. The monster drags Victor into an old windmill, where they continue to fight. In the end, the monster throws Victor from the top of the windmill. The townspeople burn down the windmill and the monster is destroyed. At least until the sequel.

Frankenstein was filmed in black and white, obviously, on these wonderful sets that evoke the German expressionism of a decade earlier. Notice the wonderful watchtower with its angled stairway, its leaning walls, its crooked windows. The monster makeup by Jack P. Pierce has become so iconic that when you say the word Frankenstein, most people immediately picture Pierce's flat-topped, yellow skinned creation. The electrical equipment was designed by Ken Strickfaden, who doubled for Karloff while the electricity was playing about the monster's body. Yeah, they used a live person, not a dummy. This machinery is so tightly linked to the Frankenstein image that Mel Brooks used all of the same equipment - not reproductions but the very same pieces - in his spoof of Whale's film. Many of the shots and camera angles used in the film were cutting edge for their time, and later they became standard stuff. One of Whale's favorite camera techniques was to flow the action through walls, so he built his set so the camera could easily track the actors as they passed from one room to another. Sounds old-fashioned now. Then, it was state of the art stuff. Put all of this together, and you have one of the greatest movies that has ever come out of Hollywood. There have been lots of remakes and homages. Now of them can beat the original. Watch it yourself and find out.

Frankenstein is rated G, and is available in luscious black and white.

Dracula (1931)

Dracula! The very name inspires hundreds of images in people's minds, everything from Bela Lugosi to Count Chocula. But with the release of the third movie in the Twilight series, I thought I'd take a look back to where it all started, back to the original Dracula, back to Todd Browning's 1931 masterpiece starring Lugosi as the ancient, blood-thirsty and tragic vampire. And tragic is the concept I want to focus on here, because that is the thing that most of the remakes and knock-offs and other variations of the story always fail to capture. The original 1931 Dracula was a tragedy in that Dracula himself was a truly tragic figure and Browning was sympathetic to his tragic nature. After all, here is a man who is cursed to never see the light of day, a man who lives out a life devoid of friends because friendship with him brings the risk of becoming like him, a man who is despised and hunted because of his difference. It is Dracula's difference - his otherness - that makes him such a tragic figure. It also makes him an early symbol of all the Others who have ever existed in our society, from black Americans to AIDS victims to Muslims. Dracula serves as a metaphor for all of them.

The story is familiar to just about everyone by now. Dracula moves from his crumbling castle in Transylvania to London, where he meets the beautiful Mina (Helen Chandler). He immediately sets about seducing her, to the dismay of her fiance' Jonathan Harker (David Manners) and her father Doctor Seward (Herbert Bunston). Dracula is assisted at times by his minion Renfield (Dwight Frye), a man who has gone insane in Dracula's service. As Mina starts succumbing to Dracula's powers, Seward calls on Dr. Van Helsing (Edward Van Sloan) for help. Van Helsing immediately recognizes what Dracula is, and casts him out of the house. When Dracula kidnaps Mina, Van Helsing, Harker and Seward pursue him to his castle where they drive a stake through his heart, killing him and releasing Mina from his power.

Of course, this tells you very little about Todd Browning's film. Many younger people may be disappointed by the film, because it doesn't contain a lot of the things we've come to associate with vampire movies. For instance, you won't see any nudity, sex, violence or blood. That's right. In the original film, the only blood seen is when Renfield pokes his finger on a paper clip. Even the slaying of Dracula himself takes place off camera. Instead, Browning relies on atmosphere. There are ancient castles and creepy forests, men in dark suits and women in gossamer night gowns walking zombie-like through misty darkness, cobwebs and shadows, tension and suspense. The sets are elaborate, and the special effects are minimal - there's no CGI morphing, no impossible stunts. The musical score, composed specifically for this movie and performed by the Kronos Quartet, is appropriately melancholic. The acting may seem stiff to people today, but it must be remembered that since talking movies had only been around for four years, movies in 1931 still retained a lot of the staging of silent films. But Lugosi's delivery is perfect as he invites Renfield to "Listen to them. Children of the night. What music they make."

Modern vampire films may be flashy, sexy, fast-paced, CGI-laden, gore fests, but they still can't compete with the original Dracula. It set the standard by which all subsequent vampire films have been measured ever since. Check it out some time, if you dare.

Dracula is rated G and is available in gloriously restored black and white.