Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein review.
Thirty years ago, Kenneth Branagh attempted to bring the definitive Frankenstein adaptation to life. He failed. A look back at a good director’s most confusing output.
Classic movie reviews will contain spoilers.
Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein
Directed by Kenneth Branagh
Screenplay by Steph Lady and Frank Darabont
Starring Robert De Niro, Kenneth Branagh, Tom Hulce, Helena Bonham Carter, Aidan Quinn, Ian Holm and John Cleese
Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein Review
Let’s begin by acknowledging that not everything that feels wrong about Kenneth Branagh’s adaptation of Frankenstein is his fault. We’ve discussed the James Whale Universal Monsters version(s) before. Whale made two masterpieces by using Mary Shelley’s story as more of a suggestion than a foundation. The success and legacy of his films fundamentally changed to definitive text to many people. Branagh’s story is far more faithful to the original novel…especially regarding the creature that Victor Frankenstein brings to life. But ask yourself…when you picture Frankenstein’s Monster…is he more like Karloff or De Niro? The text says the latter. The iconography no longer does.
Whale’s movies have been the biggest problem in staging a good Frankenstein movie for nearly a century. You can’t claim that Mary Shelley’s famous work isn’t adaptable. Whale and Karloff did it twice. Twice, it should be noted, with different intentions, tones, and presentations. They found countless things in Shelley’s story to thrill viewers for going on ten decades. As a result, Frankenstein adaptations became a more difficult proposition for everyone else. What are they supposed to adapt? Audiences no longer fully view Shelley’s novel as the definitive text. Whale and Karloff changed that. Enough so that any earnest attempt feels wrong by comparison. Similarly, attempting to recreate the look and feel of Whale’s work is its own recipe for disaster.
It’s easy to understand why Branagh and company thought this wouldn’t be the case. 1992 saw a successful adaptation of Dracula by Francis Ford Coppola. Bela Lugosi had made the titular role iconic in his own right the same year Karloff first shambled on screen as The Monster. Why was Bram Stoker’s Dracula able to do what Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein couldn’t? Honestly…because Tod Browning’s 1931 Dracula isn’t James Whale’s Frankenstein. And it certainly wasn’t James Whale’s Bride of Frankenstein. Lugosi aside, Browning delivered a basic, stripped-down version of the most famous vampire story. He didn’t reinvent anything. The pop-culture landscape wasn’t changed by its success. Frankenstein was a different monster altogether.
The rest is on Branagh. He makes some baffling choices in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. Pacing alone is enough to give you a stomachache. He spends what feels like forever telling the life story of Victor Frankenstein (played, unsurprisingly, by Kenneth Branagh). When we finally get to the creation scene…it’s a complete mess. What’s worse…if you blink, you’ll miss the entire time it takes for the Monster (Robert De Niro) to go from birth to exile. It feels like you’re losing your mind. 50 minutes of Victor growing up. 0 seconds of depth reserved for his creation.
It’s decisions like this that give Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein a whiplash effect. Branagh can bore you for nearly an hour (wasting no opportunity to take off his shirt), and then rush right past the part of the story anyone cares about. In fairness…this is accurate to the book. It’s why the superior film version of this moment veers away from that text. Whale knows something is missing for a modern viewing audience in 1931. A failed connection between creator and creation that dulls the meaning of the story. Branagh didn’t figure that out in 1994.
The Monster eventually does get some screen time (De Niro being top billed almost feels like an inside joke we aren’t a part of). By the time the story gets to his arc…every aspect of it feels rushed and unearned. This is particularly problematic because Branagh’s Victor Frankenstein isn’t an especially compelling character. He wants to defeat death due to losing his mother and mentor to tragedies. That’s pretty much the end of his character traits. Unless we include being shirtless.
Elizabeth (Helena Bonham Carter) is the most sympathetic character in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. She meets her demise on her wedding night…just as she did in the novel. The movie chooses to take it a step further and carry out its own Bride of Frankenstein plot. It is, at least, more interesting than the creation of the Monster itself. Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein doesn’t have the most time to devote to her character…but it does something unexpectedly right by her in the end. Unlike in Whale’s great sequel, this creature gets to choose her own fate. She engulfs herself in flames to avoid living life as she is. It’s, perhaps, the one good original move the movie makes.
When things aren’t slowed to a crawl, Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein more closely resembles a music video than a period piece. Jump cuts and noise are Branagh’s only tricks to liven up the action. It’s a waste of a talented cast. Frankly, it’s unlike Branagh to do it. He’s directed many films in his career. While there are plenty of ups and downs…he’s always been a polished and steady hand behind the camera. Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein looks good…but it feels awful. It feels very un-Branagh like. Compare it to his adaptation of Hamlet just two years later. It’s night and day.
Put bluntly, everything that’s good in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein comes from Mary Shelley. Her story remains excellent…even told by someone who doesn’t seem to understand it. It saves the movie from becoming an outright failure. But only just. While this was a creative misfire…it was a commercial success. The power of Shelley’s characters once again. Attempting to find a legacy for this movie after 30 years is a fool’s errand. If it did anything…it made future filmmakers apprehensive about presenting anything resembling a faithful adaptation of the source material. A decision you could (and I have) argued hasn’t been possible since 1931.
In the end…despite attaching Shelley’s name to the picture…two things are true. Number 1…this is really Kenneth Branagh’s Frankenstein. Screenwriter Frank Darabont has derided Branagh’s choices since its release. Second…despite being Shelley’s story…the mind will always return to James Whale’s two masterworks. Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein can’t hold a candle to either. It wisely doesn’t try to evoke them often. It does, however, reenact the most famous moment of Whale’s original. Upon hearing his creation stir for the first time, Victor Frankenstein (following a turn and a camera push in) whispers “It’s alive” before raising his voice to repeat “It’s alive”.
Colin Clive gave these words a real electricity in Whale’s version. More dynamic than the showstopping piece that was the creation itself. Branagh’s moment looks like it was thrown in for usage in a trailer. It feels cold, lifeless and unnecessary. Clive becomes detached from reality…the closest to God that any mere mortal has ever flown. Branagh looks as if the lines have no rooted understanding in what he has just done. Unfortunately, it’s a fitting delivery for this version of the story.
Scare Value
Everything in Branagh’s adaptation is a case of one step forward, two steps back. It’s nice to look at…but cuts too quickly to enjoy it. It alternates between too slow and too fast seemingly at random. A great cast on paper becomes unmemorable in practice. Despite all of its excess…it’s missing something. Considering how much of the Frankenstein story is already laid out for you…Kenneth Branagh’s Frankenstein is an odd miss.
2/5
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