Frankenstein (1910)

Frankenstein has always been one of my favourite novels.  It works beautifully on so many levels (except maybe, ironically, as a science fiction novel, a genre which it undoubtedly helped to create) and it has spawned an entire culture of related works in different media, some of which I love dearly.  I believe the main reason behind this success is the relationship between the monster and the scientist, which provides a perfect canvas on which to paint the biting commentary on love, ambition, science and morality that the novel explores.

I was elated when I found a copy of the 1910 ‘lost’ film directed by J Searle Dawley on youtube.  The fact that it still exists is nothing short of a miracle: you can read about it HERE and HERE.  On the other hand, I was careful not to raise my hopes too high because, as other silent films had occasion to prove to me, being visual and having a vision are two different things.  Many of them were made for sheer entertainment, to be seen in part or in whole with friends, who would marvel at the clever tricks that this new medium was capable of.  Luckily, Frankenstein turned out to be nothing of the sort.

Similarly to Hutter in Murnau’s Nosferatu, and to Whale’s 1931 adaptation of the Mary Shelley novel, Frankenstein decides to leave his beloved to embark on a voyage that would keep him away from her for a very long time, in this case, two years.  We are told that he wants to discover ‘the mystery of life‘, something which apparently he cannot do with his fiancée’ in the way.  Just before the experiment, Frankenstein writes the following missive:

Sweetheart, tonight my ambition will be accomplished.  I have discovered the secret of life and death and in a few hours I shall create into life the most perfect human being that the world has yet known.  When this marvelous work is accomplished I shall then return to claim you for my bride.  Your devoted, Frankenstein.

He equates the success of the experiment with leading a happy married life and thus, his assertion of creating ‘the most perfect human being‘, may as well be directed towards himself.  The result of the experiment will either make him or break him, literally, as he is seeking a wholeness that can, apparently, be achieved only by creating another human being.  Frankenstein is on a journey of self-perfection and his restlessness, disguised as intellectual pursuit, conceals several anxieties about himself and his relationship with Elisabeth.

The actual creation of the monster smacks more of alchemy than science, as we see potions being poured into a huge vat that is then closed behind the doors of a huge chamber.  Significantly, Frankenstein watches the entire process of creation from a tiny window (mirror), eagerly awaiting for this perfect creature (his reflection) that he needs to confront in order to appease his self-doubts.

However things do not go as expected and Frankenstein recoils in horror as the monster slowly makes its way out of the chamber.  In a sequence that is evidently composed and shot to bring to mind Nightmare, Henry Fuseli’s painting, we see Frankenstein agonising over the abject creature that he created.  Frankenstein’s self cannot accept or identify with his specular image and instead of acquiring wholeness he becomes even more fragmented as he finds himself confronting a grotesque being.

Frankenstein’s solution to this duality, when not fainting, is to run away.  We find him back in his beloved’s arms, confident and cocky as ever, seemingly content to deny everything that happened in his laboratory.  However, that which has been awakened cannot be laid to rest so easily.  In a cleverly constructed scene, Frankenstein sits in a boudior, facing, but never actually looking at, a full length mirror.  What follows is an extremely revealing and interesting sequence of events.

First, Elisabeth comes in, through a door reflected in the mirror.  This places her in the position of Frankenstein’s other self.  She gives him a flower and then moves away.  The same scene is repeated, this time with the monster who, we are told, is jealous of Elisabeth.  In fact he snatches the flower from Frankenstein’s lapel and throws it on the floor.  He acts like a petulant lover which clearly suggests that, all along, Frankenstein’s journey was spurned by doubts about his sexuality.  There is no denying the connection between the monster and Elisabeth, and this is further corroborated when the monster hides from her, scared to be discovered in the bedroom with her husband-to-be.

When she finally leaves, the monster throws a hissy fit and attacks Frankenstein.  But the assault is short-lived as the monster gets a glimpse of himself in the mirror and, just like his creator, is horrified at the reflection.  This is an interesting take on the monster which underlines one of Mary Shelley’s major concerns, mainly that Frankenstein actually succeeded in creating a true human being.  Mr Searle Dawley gets this across by showing us that what was at first merely a reflection or manifestation of Frankenstein’s inner turmoil, is now a fully-fledged (albeit fragmented) self.

True to his nature, Frankenstein deals with this latest mishap of having the monster inside his house, by burying everything under the carpet and going ahead with his wedding.  However, as soon as the guests leave, the monster reappears.  This is Mr & Mrs Frankenstein’s first night together as husband and wife, a fact which once again reinforces the monster’s role as the personification of Frankenstein’s disturbed sexuality.

For the first time, it is Frankenstein who takes the initiative and attacks the monster, but the latter manages to run away.  He goes back to the boudoir where he finds himself in front of the mirror.  After a brief moment of agony the monster vanishes but his reflection is still there.  Frankenstein enters the room and is confronted by the monster’s image in the mirror.  He looks at the terrible reflection of himself (this time without averting his gaze or running away) and after a while, the image of the monster disappears, to be replaced by that of Frankenstein.

So what happened here?  Frankenstein finally mastered enough pluck to confront the abhorrent echo of himself, and in so doing, exorcised it, paving the way for a happy and complete existence (as the corny ending seems to suggest).  He achieved the wholeness he craved and can now fully identify with his image.  This is standard horror story practice, to upset the status quo with the intervention of the monster, only for it to be restored later on.

Frankenstein was one of the first films to make it into the horror genre and I am really glad that this contribution consisted of such a splendidly realised effort.

OF INTEREST Frankensteinia : The Frankenstein Blog

THE FILM