Subject: REVIEW: MARY SHELLEY'S FRANKENSTEIN

From: [email-masked] (berardinelli,james)
Date: Mon, 7 Nov 1994 20:53:52 GMT

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			  MARY SHELLEY'S FRANKENSTEIN
		       A film review by James Berardinelli
			Copyright 1994 James Berardinelli
 
Rating (0 to 10):  7.4 
 
Date Released:  11/4/94 
Running Length:  2:04 
Rated:  R (Violence, gore) 

Starring:  Kenneth Branagh, Robert De Niro, Helena Bonham Carter, 
	   Ian Holm, Tom Hulce, Aidan Quinn, Richard Briers, 
	   Robert Hardy, John Cleese 
Director: Kenneth Branagh 
Producers:  Francis Ford Coppola, James V. Hart, and John Veitch 
Screenplay: Steph Lady and Frank Darabont based on the novel by 
	    Mary Shelly 
Cinematography: Roger Pratt 
Music: Patrick Doyle 
Released by TriStar Pictures 
 
"In the last 20, 30 years, [FRANKENSTEIN has] been claimed by a whole 
generation of academics and scholars as a seminal piece of literature of 
that time.  [It's] something which now, post-Freud, they feel reveals so 
many observations about family life, and incest, father-and-son 
relationships, and husband and wife relationships.  [FRANKENSTEIN] speaks 
loudly to people, partly because it's so elusive.  There's no definitive 
interpretation of it--it's certainly more than just a monster story." 
         - Kenneth Branagh, director of MARY SHELLY'S FRANKENSTEIN 
 
     During the course of more than thirty adaptations, sequels, spin-
offs, rip-offs, and spoofs, the name of "Frankenstein" has become
associated with one of the world's most recognizable movie monsters.
The creature, as typified by Boris Karloff with outstretched arms,
flat- topped head, and ubiquitous neck bolts, has met the likes of
Dracula, the Wolfman, and even Abbott and Costello.  It has been played
by (among others) Charles Ogle, Karloff, Lon Chaney, Bela Lugosi, Glenn
Strange, Christopher Lee, Fred Gwynne (as Herman Munster), and now,
Robert De Niro.  Rarely, however, has a cinematic interpretation of
"the daemon" approached the level of three-dimensionality with which it
is portrayed in the novel.

     As conceived and written by Shelly, FRANKENSTEIN was more of a
gothic melodrama than a horror story.  Considered in its most basic
terms, the tale is one of actions and their consequences, and of what
happens when man, in his hubris, attempts to usurp the role of God.
For the most part, however, motion pictures have chosen to ignore the
weightier issues of the book to concentrate instead on the "monster
movie" aspects.  With this latest cinematic depiction, director (and
uncredited co-writer) Kenneth Branagh has taken a less-traveled path.
He has chosen to view FRANKENSTEIN as a tragedy of Greek (or, given his
background, Shakespearean) proportions.

     What Branagh should recognize better than anyone, though, is that
tragedy is at its most effective when allowed to cook slowly, basting
in its own juices.  This version of FRANKENSTEIN moves so frantically
that far too many subtleties get lost along the way.  The result is a
rousing, occasionally-chaotic (especially during the choppily-edited
first half-hour) piece of work that, while undeniably entertaining,
lacks a depth that might otherwise have been attained.  Patrick Doyle's
bombastic score helps only to underline the melodramatic elements of
this production, rarely allowing a quiet or reflective moment.

     As far as its faithfulness to the source material is concerned,
MARY SHELLY'S FRANKENSTEIN frequently differs from the book on plot
points, but the two are thematically in synch.  Several movie
characters bear little resemblance to their book counterparts beyond
having the same name (Dr. Waldeman, Frankenstein's mentor, being a
chief example), and there is a significant alteration in the last act.
Surprisingly enough, although it reflects nothing written by Shelly,
this scene is effective in underlining the weaknesses and strengths of
both Victor Frankenstein and his creature.

     Can a man create life, then abandon his creation because its
appearance horrifies him?  To whom are its actions then attributable:
the creature or the being who brought about its existence?  Shelly did
not answer these questions, but she certainly posed them.  Following
her example, Branagh does the same.

     The greatest strength of MARY SHELLY'S FRANKENSTEIN is that it
illustrates both the good and evil qualities in each of its main
characters.  Of the two--Robert De Niro's creature and Kenneth
Branagh's Frankenstein--the former is, perhaps surprisingly, the more
sympathetic.  In part because of the script and in part because of the
acting (De Niro gives a stronger performance than his
director/co-star), the creature seems almost the more "human" of the
two.  In its own words, it is capable of great love and great rage.
Frankenstein, on the other hand, often comes across as petty,
self-serving, and ambitious.  Only towards the end, when he finally
grasps the full consequences of his actions, does the scientist capture
a measure of our understanding.

     Despite the presence of John Cleese--who is excellent in a
straight, if somewhat limited, role--there is no comic relief in MARY
SHELLY'S FRANKENSTEIN (or at least none that is intentional--a few
lines here and there are too-obviously overacted, which can lead to a
chuckle or two).  However, since the screenplay is not relentlessly
downbeat, the bursts of action and horror are effective enough in
lessening tension that breaks of levity are not needed.  In fact, given
the tone of this film, humor might easily have seemed an unwelcome
intrusion.

     Shelly was never concerned about the scientific realism of
Frankenstein's actions.  She describes neither his experiments nor the
practical (as opposed to the philosophical) reasoning that leads to
them.  In this film, while Branagh doesn't attempt to fully remedy this
lapse (something that obviously can't be done), he presents enough
pseudo- scientific evidence to suggest how the creation of a life might
plausibly be accomplished.  Suspension of disbelief is, of course,
requisite for the viewer at this point.

     One area where this FRANKENSTEIN meets expectations is in its
cast.  The weakest link is Branagh (and that's not to suggest that he
gives a bad performance, because he doesn't), whose Victor is more than
occasionally overwrought.  De Niro, although buried beneath hours'
worth of makeup, is less monstrous here than in films like CAPE FEAR
and THE UNTOUCHABLES.  The sequence where the creature befriends a
family, anonymously providing them food (instead of firewood, as in the
book) while observing and learning from them through a chink in a wall,
is marvelously moving, and possibly the best moment offered by the
film.

     Helena Bonham Carter gives a feisty and fiery interpretation of
Elizabeth, who eventually becomes much more than merely Frankenstein's
love interest.  Richard Briers (as the blind patriarch of the
creature's adopted "family"), Ian Holm (as Frankenstein's father), Tom
Hulce (as Frankenstein's best friend and fellow student, Henry
Clerval), Aidan Quinn (as the north-pole bound explorer Robert Walton),
Robert Hardy (as the odious Professor Krempe), Trevyn McDowell (as
Justine, the Frankensteins' housekeeper) and John Cleese (as Waldeman,
Frankenstein's mentor) round out the supporting cast.

     The film has a striking visual look, which owes as much to the set
design and special effects as to the soaring cinematography of Roger
Pratt.  Although Branagh does not opt for straight horror, the gothic
element of the tale is very much in evidence as a result of the
carefully-crafted atmosphere of several key scenes.  From the Arctic
Ocean to the Swiss Alps and the plague-riddled streets of Ingolstadt,
MARY SHELLY'S FRANKENSTEIN is a wonder to behold.

     Comparison's with 1992's BRAM STOKER'S DRACULA are inevitable,
especially since both came from Francis Ford Coppola's American
Zoetrope production company.  Considering the merits of both movies,
however, there is little doubt which is more effective.  Kenneth
Branagh's film is stronger thematically and visually, possesses more
solid characterization, and boasts Robert De Niro and Helena Bonham
Carter rather than Keanu Reeves and Winona Ryder.  MARY SHELLY'S
FRANKENSTEIN may not be the definitive version of the 1817 novel, and
the director likely attempted more than is practical for a two-hour
film, but overambition is preferable to the alternative, especially if
it results--as in this case--in something more substantial than
Hollywood's typical, fitfully entertaining fluff.

- James Berardinelli ([email-masked])