THE CURSE OF FRANKENSTEIN: 2-disc Blu-ray (Hammer/Warner Bros., 1957) Warner Archive
Hammer Films redefined the terms of its positioning on
the world stage with director, Terence Fisher’s 1957 production of The Curse
of Frankenstein – seemingly, a foregone conclusion to salvage the company’s
sagging bottom line, but in 1957, as great a gamble as any undertaken by a
studio in very steep decline at that time. The trouble lay only partly in the
fact Universal Pictures still held ‘intellectual property’ dominion over Mary Wollstonecraft
Shelley’s gothic novel, first published in 1818. The book had hardly been a ‘best
seller’ of its day, but was to be afforded an impressive following nearly a
century-and-half later, thanks, in part, to Universal’s 1931 movie, and later,
to feminist scholarship. By then, Shelley’s interpretation of a creature,
stitched together from cadaver parts to embody something of the raven-haired Adonis
in physical stature had been ‘immortalized’ (nee, bastardized) all out of
proportion by James Whale’s classic from Universal, starring Boris Karloff’s chunky-browed,
clumsy and thuggishly misshapen, but child-like creature. Important also to
note – first, the Karloff monster bears no earthly resemblance to Shelley’s
sublime vision of the Modern Prometheus, and second, that in her own time, the gothic
novel was not perceived as high art, but rather the lowest of lowbrow literary forms.
Today, Frankenstein is hailed as
a masterpiece of literature, an allegory for what can happen when man’s grasp
exceeds his reach within the realms of science, interminably debated for its ethics
– or lack thereof, with Baron Victor Frankenstein, who dared play God to his
ever-lasting detriment. Alas, science,
has long-since outclassed Shelley’s sophomoric – if commendable – gesture to recreate
life after death, with its own even more bizarre and ethic-ridden forays into genetic
cloning, invitro fertilization and artificial intelligence. And truth to tell, Victor
Frankenstein’s desire – at least, initially, to eradicate the diseases that prematurely
corrupt the human body before its time, was neither ill-conceived nor as tragic
an ambition…at least, not in Shelley’s time.
In virtually all of the movies based on the novel,
none of these loftier pursuits put forth by its flawed protagonist is ever
explored, much less outlined. Victor Frankenstein is instead reduced from an altruistic
student of science into a demigod-like and egotistical meddler in the art of
science itself, driven to achieve the impossible simply because he is arrogant
enough to believe that he can, and, to will and wield his authority over the
unknown he has regurgitated up from ill-gotten gains of some very spurious
grave robbing, only thereafter to discover just how wrong and ill-advised his
grand experiment has become. By the time Hammer set out to make The Curse of
Frankenstein, it was not only a company otherwise rudderless in its
aspirations, but also on the edge of extinction. As for the horror genre…it had
not seen a flourish of activity since the mid-1940’s with Val Lewton’s
psychologically complex ‘terror’ fests. By then, Universal’s grindhouse cycle
of more obvious monster mash-ups had devolved into quota quickies or had been remade
as figures of fun in Abbott and Costello comedies, merely to sustain the studio’s
bottom line as Saturday matinee fodder. Thus, by 1950, the legitimate horror
movie had simply vanished from the cinema landscape, replaced by a richly
populated cycle of sci-fi adventures, from the B-budgeted Invasion of the
Body Snatchers, to MGM’s A-list spectacle, Forbidden Planet (both
made and released in 1956); the atomic age of alien invaders and radioactive
bugs, storming into movie houses to take its place.
Hammer’s reintroduction of gothic horror was therefore
quite a gamble, and, to have long-lasting repercussions for the genre and the
industry. Chiefly, it set a new style, in color – no less – with opulent sets, positively
dripping of a fairly aristocratic Victoriana, moodily lit to evoke a sense of
danger…with a little bodice-ripping sex thrown in for good measure. Apart from
its adherence to the earlier Whale adaptation, in making the creature a hideous
distortion of humanity, Jimmy Sangster’s screenplay for The Curse of Frankenstein
concentrated on infusing a remarkable amount of Mary Shelley’s moral subtext
into its contemplative search for the secrets of life after death, explored
with vigor by this movie’s Baron Victor Frankenstein (played as a teenager by
Melvyn Hayes – who grows up to become Peter Cushing) and his mentor and
greatest skeptic, Paul Krempe (Robert Urquhart). Getting Cushing for the lead
was a minor coup. Cushing, then, was widely regarded as the finest British
actor on television. The producers’ other stroke of great good luck was in convincing
Jack Warner to distribute their picture state’s side, thereby, ensuring the
international market. Despite, the good taste exuded by producer, Anthony
Hinds, The Curse of Frankenstein had its battles with the prevailing
screen censorship. Ironically, the censors were more gravely concerned over the
plunging necklines of co-star, Hazel Court’s corseted gowns, then in any of the
obscenities expressly carried out by Cushing’s morally bankrupt Baron. Victor betrays
his confidences to his best friend, indulges in grave-robbing, lures Elizabeth
into a loveless engagement, has sex and impregnates a servant girl, Justine
(Valarie Gaunt), and, maliciously plots, then carries out the murders of both Justine,
locking her in the attic with the creature to silence her secret, and, pushing
an old man, Professor Bernstein (Paul Hardtmuth) off a balcony, merely to
harvest his brain for a cranial transplant into the monster; an operation only
partly foiled as Paul causes the jar in which the newly removed brain has been
preserved to shatter, thereupon, presumably crippling its intellectual
properties.
For the briefest wrinkle in time, it seemed as though
Hammer’s worst financial woes were behind them. The Curse of Frankenstein’s
overwhelming success at the box office spawned an almost immediate cycle of
like-minded horror fare – with Christopher Lee (herein, completely obscured by
Phil Leakey’s off-the-cuff make-up design), usually cast in the leads, or,
again, to be co-starred with Cushing. As already stated, Universal’s threat of a
lawsuit against Hammer, should any part of their planned excursion even
remotely resemble its own efforts from 1931 forced Leakey to think outside the
box when creating his appliances for Lee’s make-up. The results, including a
fake lens to cloud one of Lee’s eyes, and crudely painted sutures to suggest
facial reconstruction, are at their most effective during the movie’s first big
reveal of the monster, with a grimacing Lee suddenly stripping away the gauze
and bandages, then attempting to strangle Victor in his laboratory. Herein,
Jack Asher’s camera, effectively dollies into a startling close-up. What also
set The Curse of Frankenstein apart from its Uni predecessor, was the
screenplay’s focus on Frankenstein and not the monster. Indeed, for some years
now it has become quite fashionable to confuse the two. There are those who
still believe the monster is Frankenstein and not the Frankenstein monster.
Initially, producer, Max Rosenberg (who has held
steadfast to the claim he came up with the movie’s title) approached Michael
Carreras at Hammer to make the movie. Alas, both were eventually whittled out
of their profit participation with an embittered Rosenberg going on to
establish Amicus Films, Hammer's chief rival throughout the 1960’s. Whether
factual or not, screenwriter, Jimmy Sangster’s final shooting script bore no
earthly resemblance, either to Universal’s monster show, or, in fact, Rosenberg’s
earlier drafts; Sangster, more keenly determined to make the story neatly fit
within the production’s limited budget. In fact, Sangster claimed never to have
seen Universal’s Frankenstein prior to writing his screenplay. Production
began with an investment of £65,000, the movie shot entirely at the modestly
endowed, Bray Studios – a mansion, converted to film production facilities some
years before. After a superb main title sequence, featuring James Bernard’s
bone-chilling orchestral arrangement (a landmark that set a tone for a whole
new strain of influential horror underscoring throughout the next two decades),
the movie kicks into a prologue to suggest the curse of Frankenstein is alive
and well in 19th century Switzerland. An imprisoned Victor implores
a priest (Alex Gallier) to hear his confession. We retreat the Victor’s youth,
and meet the adolescent Baron Frankenstein on the afternoon of his mother’s death.
The boy is cool and aloof toward his relatives,
including his cousin, Elizabeth (played as a prepubescent child by Sally Walsh)
and her mother, Aunt Sophie (Noel Hood). Victor does, however, agree to
continue paying the old dowager’s allowance. We are also introduced to Victor’s
tutor, Paul Krempe, newly arrived and startled to learn he has been hired – not
by Victor’s father, whom he discovers has been dead for some years – but rather,
by Victor to advance his education. The alliance proves fortuitous for both men
who evolve a friendship along intellectual bloodlines until Victor, now a young
man, reveals to Paul his master plan to conduct a series of experiments that
will restore life to subjects otherwise thought to fortuitous be dead. Their
first critical experiment on a puppy is very successful. Indeed, the animal is
resurrected. Paul believes the next step in the evolution of their research is
to publish their findings in a prestigious medical journal. But Victor is
reticent to do so. Indeed, he believes their work is incomplete without taking
the next step – to resuscitate a human being from beyond the grave. Very
reluctantly, Paul agrees to help Victor steal the body of a condemned serial
killer, presently dangling from a gibbet on the outskirts of town. Alas, their
night raid has been preempted by hungry birds to have pecked out the eyes and
tattered the facial flesh of the dead man. Nevertheless, Victor reasons the
rest of the body is sound enough to be preserved in his laboratory. After
severing the decaying head and tossing it into a bath of sulfuric acid to be
completed eroded, Victor departs for several weeks. He returns with hands,
stolen from a presumably deceased sculptor, and later, a new head and fresh
eyes derived from other cadavers, much to Paul’s festering apprehensions.
In the meantime, Elizabeth, now a grown woman, arrives
at Victor’s estate as she has been promised in marriage to him for some time
and has come to fulfill her obligations. Paul desires that she should turn away
from the house at once and not look back. But Elizabeth is determined to become
Victor’s wife. At the same time, she has no idea Victor has been carrying on an
illicit affair with the house maid, Justine, who threatens to reveal all unless
Victor marries her instead. As Paul has forsaken further experiments in Victor’s
lab, Victor plies his diabolical craft to will the monster to life. What
troubles him is ‘the brain’. Determined the creature should possess superior
intelligence, Victor woes the noted academic, Prof. Bernstein to spend the
night at his home, but then tosses the helpless old man off a balcony to his
death in order to later raid the family crypt and remove the professor’s brain
for the necessary surgery on the monster. Suspecting as much, Paul realizes
Victor’s ambition know no bounds. Alas, he cannot bring himself to condemn his
old friend, and, instead, tries his best to repeatedly convince Elizabeth she
must leave the manor house before it is too late. Meanwhile, in his lab, Victor
gives his creature life. Alas, the professor’s brain, damaged in transit, is incapable
of any intellectual thought. The monster attacks Victor in his lab. It is only
through Paul’s intervention Victor’s life is spared.
Undaunted, Victor implores Paul to reconsider. However,
at the crack of dawn, Victor informs Paul that the monster has escaped. Even as
the men set out to regain control over Victor’s hellish creation, they are
quite unaware the monster has already killed an elderly blind man (Fred Johnson)
and his young grandson (Claude Kinston) on their sojourn through the forest.
Coming upon the monster, Paul takes dead aim and shoots it in the head. The
creature dies, but later, is resuscitated by Victor who has given his solemn
oath to Paul he will not conduct any future experiments. Secretly, the monster is now chained in
Victor’s attic. Victor allows Justine, who has been threatening to expose her
pregnancy to Elizabeth, to explore the attic unsupervised. Locking her in the
room, Justine finds the monster and meets with her untimely end. Paul returns
to the manor house, convinced Victor has surrendered any and all plans to
further play God with his creation. When he discovers that the opposite is
true, Paul, disgusted and determined, storms out of the manor, presumably
heading for town to summon the authorities for Victor’s arrest. Victor makes
chase. Meanwhile, a curious Elizabeth hurries to the attic in search of clues
as to her husband’s experiments. She finds no trace of the monster who has
broken free of his bonds, but is nevertheless horrified by the sulfuric bath
and other scientific accoutrements that portend to a less than noble form of
pure research.
Having spotted the creature on a parapet of the manor
house, Victor is forced to leave Paul and hurry upstairs to prevent his
creation from exposing its whereabouts to the world. Alas, too late, the
monster and Elizabeth meet. As the monster seizes Elizabeth by the shoulders,
Victor takes dead aim with his pistol, firing, but hitting Elizabeth instead.
The creature discards her unconscious body and charges Victor, who douses it in
kerosene before lighting it ablaze. Feeling the flames licking at his already
distorted flesh, the creature casts itself through an open skylight and into
the sulfuric bath below, thereby putting an end to its brief and tortured life.
We return to the present. Having heard Victor’s confession, though believing
none of it, the priest is unable to offer any sort of spiritual absolution.
Paul appears. Victor implores him to explain to the cleric what he has said is
the truth. But now, Paul, believing the truth must die with Victor, remains
silent, suggesting Victor is insane, and is, in fact, the one directly
responsible for the murders of the professor and Justine. As Paul escorts
Elizabeth from the prison, Victor is led to the guillotine to meet his final
punishment for crimes against humanity and nature.
The Curse of Frankenstein is a surprisingly
subdued horror movie. Indeed, in focusing its plot on the Baron and not his
nightmarish creation, the truly appalling and sinister aspects of the story are
left to man’s inhumanity and transgressions against his fellow man, rather than
any ever-lasting terror inflicted upon men by the supernatural. As with the
Universal original, Peter Cushing’s monster is where our empathy lies – a distorted,
psychologically haunted and physiological outcast from society, willed into
being without ever wishing for the opportunity itself. Cushing’s monster is
angrier than Karloff’s. Indeed, Karloff’s was instilled with a simple mind and
tender heart. In the original, Karloff unwittingly murders a little girl by
accidentally tossing her into a lake after the daisy petals she has scattered
upon the water. In The Curse of Frankenstein, the monster encounters a
little boy and his blind grandfather. And while we are never shown the outcome
of these chance encounters, implicitly we find only the scattered and tattered
remains of the old man’s broken walking stick and boy’s discarded and disheveled
rucksack, inferring that neither has come to a good end at the monster’s hands.
Critics of the day, and certainly, the prevailing
screen censorship then were not at all certain The Curse of Frankenstein
had adhered to the precepts of ‘good taste’. Indeed, the censors awarded the
picture the dreaded ‘X’ rating (which only made the public want to see it more),
while critics felt the picture had veered too far into the grotesque to be
considered a celebration of the sublime in Mary Shelley’s original novel.
Whatever the case, audiences flocked to see the picture, making it an
irrefutable hit at the box office. Indeed,
Hammer had its new formula for success, almost immediately spawning a franchise
of luridly photographed sequels, and other remakes from the pantheon of Gothic
horror movies, imbued with even more legitimate and opulent production values. Alas,
within a few short years, this cottage industry too had run its course, though
not before Hammer had all but reinvented itself as the new Transylvania in town,
with Peter Cushing, Christopher Lee, and, Terence Fisher, exhumed as the
company’s finest assets. For decades after its initial release, frequent
theatrical reissues of The Curse of Frankenstein suffered from inexplicably
abysmal quality. The original elements had been photographed on single layer
Eastman stock and, in WarnerColor – itself a flawed process. Alas, there seems
to be some discrepancy as to the way the picture was originally meant to be
exhibited. Depending on the venue of exhibition, it is entirely possible one
saw The Curse of Frankenstein either framed in 1.85:1 or 1.66:1 (the
standard in the UK). Without question, it was never intended to be viewed ‘open
matte’ in 1.37:1.
But like so many movies cropped in projection, when The
Curse of Frankenstein was first screened on television, it was in ‘open
matte’ that a whole new generation came to venerate it as one of the greatest
horror movies of all time. Over the years, speculation has arisen that through
a series of shortsighted exchanges of rights, the original camera negatives were
either allowed to decompose beyond repair, or were lost and/or discarded with
the passage of time. Whatever the truth here, there is little doubt the movie
has always looked bloody awful on home video…until now (well…sort of). The Warner Archive’s (WAC) 2-disc release of The
Curse of Frankenstein is cause to rejoice. WAC has undertaken an extensive
restoration effort, and presented us with 3 identical versions of the movie,
framed in all 3 of the aforementioned aspect ratios, allowing the viewer to
choose his/her preferred viewing mode. A word about the framing here. The
opening shot of the priest coming down a mountain pass on route to the prison
is only revealed in its entirety in the ‘open matte’ version. Both the 1.66:1
and 1.85:1 crop out the matte painting of the prison in the distance, begging
the question as to whether or not this shot has been properly reformatted in
the widescreen ratios to take full advantage of all pertinent information
within the film frame. Regardless of the
version screened, overall image quality derived from this 4K scan is soft.
Occasionally, the image snaps together with some startling crispness.
Close-ups, in particular, exhibit some ravishing detail in hair, skin and
clothing. But a good many establishing shots are slightly blurry to down-right
out of focus. Colors are richly saturated. Flesh tones are particularly
impressive. Contrast is excellent. Film grain has been accurately rendered. Age-related artifacts are eradicated for a
smooth visual presentation.
The 2.0 DTS mono is adequate, though just. Both widescreen versions contain the same
audio commentary from Constantine Nasr and Steve Haberman, cribbing from
comparative analyses done independently, as well as their appreciation for the
movie and Hammer horror in general. It’s a great listen to be sure, and one of
the irrefutable highlights. WAC has contained all of the remaining extras,
along with the open matte version of the movie on Disc 2. These include 4 featurettes,
totaling just over an hour. The Resurrection Men: Hammer, Frankenstein
and the Rebirth of the Horror Film is the most extensive, but alas,
also the most laborious to wade through, with magazine editor/publisher, Richard
Klemensen offering a fairly dull-as-paint history of how the movie came to be
made. Hideous Progeny fairs far better as it features Sir
Christopher Frayling, a superb historian, waxing affectionately about the
history of gothic horror in literature and how it influenced these movies. Torrents
of Light has a great critique of Jack Asher’s contributions by
cinematographer, David J. Miller, while Diabolus in Musica benefits
from Christopher Drake’s informative analysis of composer, James Bernard. In
the UK, Lionsgate released a ‘region B’ disc some years ago, with wan colors,
but a slew of extras not available anywhere else. So, if you are trading up for
a double dip on this title, do not surrender your old Blu from them as you will
not find any of those goodies here; not Terence Fisher’s Four-Sided Triangle
from 1952, nor Marcus Hearn and Jonathan Rigby’s audio commentary, nor the half-hour,
making of, or TV episode from 1958, or subsequent reboot from 1990 or even
Lionsgate’s extensive liner notes. That said, WAC’s state’s side release of The
Curse of Frankenstein greatly advances on Lionsgate’s faded hi-def
transfer. And that is really where the focus of any Blu-ray release for any
vintage catalog title ought to be squarely focused! Bottom line; highly
recommended for fans of Hammer horror!
FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)
3
VIDEO/AUDIO
3.5
EXTRAS
4
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