Frankenstein
Frankenstein, or The Modern Prometheus
1818 Novel
Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley
Frankenstein and Bride of Frankenstein
1931 / 1935 Films
Directed by James Whale
The eponymous monster of Shelley’s novel stands at one end of the 19th century, with his fellow Gothic creature Dracula at the other, and a boatload of Gothic fun of all sorts in the middle. Thanks less to Shelley’s page-turning readability than to James Whale’s directorial talents, Frankenstein ended up a founding member of American culture’s monster club, taking his maker’s name for his own.
Why is it Gothic? Because the theme relates to contemporary cultural anxiety (emerging science and revolting peasants, among others), and because that damn monster is always lurking somewhere nearby, working Victor’s last nerve so that he exists in a Gothic space where the curse of the past shambles inexorably after him. Sensationalism, death, grief, and guilt abound – all Gothic elements bequeathed to us by Walpole in his Castle of Otranto. And also because the novel itself arose out of a classic Gothic setting of an Italian villa battered by terrifying storms and haunted by a group with nervous complicated pasts and weird horniness. Google “Villa Diodati” but don’t watch Ken Russell’s Gothic unless you are a complete masochist.
Do watch both the 1931 Universal film and its 1935 sequel The Bride of Frankenstein. Together they created the 20th century version of the monster we all know and love. I don’t know about you, but after growing up seeing Karloff’s heartrending and mostly mute monster on screen, I was shocked down to my platform boots to encounter Shelley’s original and highly articulate creation. It’s quite a leap to go from “Bread good!” to
How can I move thee? Will no entreaties cause thee to turn a favourable eye upon thy creature, who implores thy goodness and compassion? Believe me, Frankenstein: I was a benevolent; my soul glowed with love and humanity; but am I not alone, miserably alone?
He’s a better and more articulate man than I am, even if he is sewn together from graveyard parts. He’s read Plutarch’s Lives and Milton's Paradise Lost, (sort of the audio book versions, since he heard them through the window) for heaven’s sake. I plan to. They’re on the bookshelf. Somewhere.
And may I say that there’s one moment in Whale’s original film that never fails to make me pay dreadful heartbeat-skipping attention: the first time we really see the monster, coming backwards through the door, the turn into the light, and a double snap zoom to his face, pulling us against our will directly into the horror that something ain’t right. I can’t sing its praises as a Gothic moment too highly. We know beyond the shadow of a doubt that something is horribly wrong, but we don’t know exactly what. (This is life, no? We don’t wanna see it, but we have to see it, because it’s not going away.) The anticipation is everything; and then he’s standing with his back to us, to set us up for what’s coming. We can’t take our eyes away, and it’s as bad as we feared. What the hell is that thing? It is the Gothic moment when the feeling of dread hits us in the gut, and it gets worse.
Well-played, James Whale and editors. Very well-downplayed, William Henry Platt.
It's important to remember this was American culture’s first sight of the monster whose image has become ubiquitous. We were not yet inundated by thousands of images every day, so the impact was heightened.
Well and good, but -- what shall we have for dinner? The simple meal offered by Gene Hackman in Young Frankenstein is a tempting choice; a simple but delectable soup, and for ambience, no one could talk except in monosyllabic words, maximum of three per sentence, no articles, but lots of sad, tight-circling hand gestures, and groans.
We could also go with a Frankenstein Meal, which is a bunch of leftovers thrown together to create something new, or a menu composed entirely from Frankenstein Food (genetically-modified). Or we could make a nod to the full title of the novel and serve liver in homage to Prometheus’ fate. So many appealing choices! But instead, let’s go for a meal that might be served by the De Lacey family from the original novel. The Monster has wandered up and, without their knowledge, is observing them closely. They live their simple authentic fallen-family peasant-y intellectual lives not knowing what is watching them obsessively right outside the window, listening to their discussion of the classics, and thus obtaining the equivalent of a state college bachelor’s degree. Distance learning FTW!
Menu (for those dining inside)
Vegetables from the Garden
Brussel sprouts
Colorful Pepper Slaw
Rustic Bread
Milk of One Cow
Menu (for the monstrous guest sitting outside and looking in the window)
Nuts
Berries
Roots
Ambience
Peasant clothing, wooden bowls. Guests gather lovingly around the patriarch at the head of the table, except for one who eats outside, looking in longingly, and repasting on berries, nuts, and roots. I leave the criteria for choosing the lone diner to your discretion.
Goth It Up
It will help if you can arrange to have this dinner during a seriously wicked thunderstorm, despite the ensuing complication to the Outside Diner.
Conversation inside should be dominated by the patriarchal figure, inspiring and full of references to classic literature and God’s plan for humanity, with grateful nods to the patriarch and occasional uneasy pauses and looking-about when the Outside Diner sneezes or coughs.
Recipes
Vegetables from the Garden
Brussel Sprouts
1 lb. of them, washed and trimmed (outer leaves and stem) and cut in half as needed for uniform size
Place them on a baking sheet and add a few whole garlic cloves and if you wish to imitate a 19th-century ignorance of cholesterol, a couple of slices of bacon, cut into small pieces.
Roast in a 375 degree oven for 20 minutes, stir them around, and roast another 20 minutes. You can cover them with foil if they’re as browned as you want them.
Colorful Pepper Slaw
1 bag shredded cabbage, 1 each red, yellow, and green pepper sliced into thin strips, one small red onion ditto
Add dressing bought at the store they didn’t have in rural 19th century England, or mix 2 tablespoons each vinegar and olive oil, season with salt and pepper, stir well.
Rustic Bread
Go to the store. Buy the loaf that looks most like it might have been baked by peasants.
Milk of One Cow
Go to the store. Get a gallon of milk. Ask someone who works there whether that came from one single cow. Buy it anyway.
For the monster’s dinner, serve any berries and nuts in their natural state, maybe on a stone or large cabbage leaf. Roast a yam or sweet potato and throw that on there, too.
For dessert, return to the present and enjoy the brilliant and hilarious Young Frankenstein, after first watching the two originals.
