This review contains potential spoilers.
It has often been said that Bride of Frankenstein broke the golden rule of Hollywood that says sequels are never better than the original.
I'm afraid I have to disagree -- the first Frankenstein film was head and shoulders above this sequel that turns the Frankenstein Monster from a frightening, yet oddly sympathetic creature, into a joke.
Part of the problem was the decision to make the Monster talk with a "Me Tarzan, you Jane" vocabulary. Boris Karloff was reportedly against the idea, and rightfully so. It renders scenes that could be seen a true pathos into jokes - no less than Saturday Night Live would lampoon Bride of Frankenstein thanks to the late Phil Hartman's "Fire bad!" parody of the talking Monster.
There are also elements of this film that have no business being in there -- the idea of Dr. Frankenstein becoming a patsy to the Faust-like Dr. Pretorius, for example. The previous film gave us this trailblazing if misguided scientist bringing life to the dead ... only to find out Pretorius got there first, and in miniature. The scene with the miniature people in bottles is amusing, and for 1935 a marvel of special effects, but it took me right out of the film.
The script is just awful for much of the film. It's as if someone mainlined Shakespeare and tried to regurgitate it back as a Frankenstein movie. Although Colin Clive's Dr. Frankenstein actually comes off quite well, as does the Blind Man, everyone else comes off sounding like idiots.
And speaking of idiots - James Whale might have been a great director and an icon, but he should have been shot for allowing the shrill, cackling character of Minnie to exist in this movie. More than once I was tempted to turn the DVD off because I couldn't take her caterwauling. If The Monster had killed her at some point it might not have been so bad, but to let her live is cruel and inhuman punishment for the viewer.
The performances range from excellent to campy. Karloff, as usual, does a terrific job, and his charisma lessens the blow of the silly dialogue he is forced to utter. Elsa Lanchester, in a dual role as Mary Shelley and The Bride, is magical to watch, but it is to film lovers' eternal regret that she didn't get more screen time as The Bride.
Valerie Hobson is gorgeous as Elizabeth, but betrays her acting inexperience in a few scenes (it's hard to believe she was only 17 at the time). Colin Clive, despite being given more theatrical, less realistic dialogue than in the first film, does his usual good job. Ernest Thesinger is embarrasing as the mad Dr. Pretorius. I'm told he was James Whale's drama instructor or something like that -- it shows. It's always hard to direct your teachers.
And Una O'Connor's performance as Minnie is worthy of the worst Ed Wood film, and not much else.
There is also sloppy continuity with the first film. Aside from changes of actors -- which is fair enough -- there are errors that should have been caught, such as giving a different name to the character whose daughter was killed by The Monster in the first film.
Despite my criticisms, Bride of Frankenstein isn't a terrible film on its own merits. Karloff steals the show, as usual, and Elsa Lanchester is electrifying (pun intended). But to this Frankenstein fan, it utterly pales in comparison with the first film.
It has often been said that Bride of Frankenstein broke the golden rule of Hollywood that says sequels are never better than the original.
I'm afraid I have to disagree -- the first Frankenstein film was head and shoulders above this sequel that turns the Frankenstein Monster from a frightening, yet oddly sympathetic creature, into a joke.
Part of the problem was the decision to make the Monster talk with a "Me Tarzan, you Jane" vocabulary. Boris Karloff was reportedly against the idea, and rightfully so. It renders scenes that could be seen a true pathos into jokes - no less than Saturday Night Live would lampoon Bride of Frankenstein thanks to the late Phil Hartman's "Fire bad!" parody of the talking Monster.
There are also elements of this film that have no business being in there -- the idea of Dr. Frankenstein becoming a patsy to the Faust-like Dr. Pretorius, for example. The previous film gave us this trailblazing if misguided scientist bringing life to the dead ... only to find out Pretorius got there first, and in miniature. The scene with the miniature people in bottles is amusing, and for 1935 a marvel of special effects, but it took me right out of the film.
The script is just awful for much of the film. It's as if someone mainlined Shakespeare and tried to regurgitate it back as a Frankenstein movie. Although Colin Clive's Dr. Frankenstein actually comes off quite well, as does the Blind Man, everyone else comes off sounding like idiots.
And speaking of idiots - James Whale might have been a great director and an icon, but he should have been shot for allowing the shrill, cackling character of Minnie to exist in this movie. More than once I was tempted to turn the DVD off because I couldn't take her caterwauling. If The Monster had killed her at some point it might not have been so bad, but to let her live is cruel and inhuman punishment for the viewer.
The performances range from excellent to campy. Karloff, as usual, does a terrific job, and his charisma lessens the blow of the silly dialogue he is forced to utter. Elsa Lanchester, in a dual role as Mary Shelley and The Bride, is magical to watch, but it is to film lovers' eternal regret that she didn't get more screen time as The Bride.
Valerie Hobson is gorgeous as Elizabeth, but betrays her acting inexperience in a few scenes (it's hard to believe she was only 17 at the time). Colin Clive, despite being given more theatrical, less realistic dialogue than in the first film, does his usual good job. Ernest Thesinger is embarrasing as the mad Dr. Pretorius. I'm told he was James Whale's drama instructor or something like that -- it shows. It's always hard to direct your teachers.
And Una O'Connor's performance as Minnie is worthy of the worst Ed Wood film, and not much else.
There is also sloppy continuity with the first film. Aside from changes of actors -- which is fair enough -- there are errors that should have been caught, such as giving a different name to the character whose daughter was killed by The Monster in the first film.
Despite my criticisms, Bride of Frankenstein isn't a terrible film on its own merits. Karloff steals the show, as usual, and Elsa Lanchester is electrifying (pun intended). But to this Frankenstein fan, it utterly pales in comparison with the first film.