When we speak about horror across both film and literature, there are two names we cannot ignore – Mary Shelley, the incredibly talented young writer who conceived of the subject of a mad scientist who decided that he would use all of his skills to bring his creation to life, and James Whale, who took this story and made it into quite possibly the greatest horror film of the 1930s. This refers to Frankenstein, one of the most iconic works of fiction ever written, and one that has infiltrated the global culture in a way that few other works have ever been able to do. For many, the film adaptations of Shelley’s novel are their primary encounter with the material, and Whale’s film is almost definitive, at least in terms of how it captures the spirit of the original text with an incredible complexity, despite the challenges imposed on the production by slightly more conservative values present within the industry at the time. Perhaps the first instance of a horror film infiltrating the culture to the point where even those who were not its target audience were drawn into the fray, becoming victims of Whale’s hypnotic and deranged vision, Frankenstein has stood the test of time better than just about any other work of terror produced during this era, which was the period in which some of the most memorable aspects of the genre were created, often by pioneers that went above and beyond the call of duty to produce something exceptionally compelling and profoundly strange, which aligns perfectly with what we can imagine Shelley herself envisioned on that fateful evening where the inspiration for this story came to her, and impelled her to put pen to paper and create perhaps the most iconic depiction of the darkest recesses of the human condition ever committed to film, which is just about what we have come to expect from a film that has become beyond iconic in terms of the cinematic culture that it helped define.

Despite being made 92 years ago, Frankenstein is a film that still occupies such an essential part of our culture, and seems to have not lost any of its lustre amongst viewers. If anything, younger audiences being introduced to this film only confirms that it is a timeless work, since while many may not find it particularly scary by contemporary standards, it has stood the test of time and remains as beloved today as it was when it was originally released. There is something so incredibly fascinating about this film and how it explores a lot of its themes, and it is not difficult to understand precisely why it has aged so incredibly well. Part of it comes down to Whale’s approach to the material – Shelley’s novel is a masterpiece, but the writing is slightly ambigious and thus needed someone who could take the material, extract the overall story and bring it to life in their way. There is a reason why every adaptation of Frankenstein is so different in terms of style and the specific details on which it focuses since the more vague details are left up to the individual creative team to decipher, which results in wildly varied results that are all fascinating in their way. Visually, the way Whale approaches this narrative is beyond impressive – it is a genuinely well-made film, and some of the techniques used here are somehow more intriguing than anything produced with contemporary technology. One of the great artistic fallacies of the past few decades is that computer-generated imagery is somehow more impressive than practical effects, when in reality we often find the ingenuity of older films to be far more compelling, since it comes with a sense of achievement that later technology lacks, at least in terms of creating a particular atmosphere. These ideas are all condensed into a singular stream of ideas that Whale brings to life (pun intended), crafting a fascinating adaptation of a classic novel that becomes his own through his unique vision, which is both electric and terrifying.

Any actor would be fortunate to have a performance that defines their career in the way The Monster in Frankenstein did for Boris Karloff. A classically trained actor with an incredible voice and the ability to play just about any role, and the one that consolidates him into film history is the essentially wordless, lumbering creature that stirs terror in a small community. This is just a testament to Karloff’s incredible gifts, since the moment he appears on screen, we find ourselves immediately hypnotized by his extraordinary performance. It seems like everyone involved knew the value of what he was doing, especially since he is credited as “?” in the opening, an interesting choice that we can imagine was done to stir interest in viewers (especially since many would venture into this film without much knowledge), but now only proves that his legacy was already strong enough to warrant such a peculiar decision, and it isn’t surprising that his performance is considered the gold-standard for horror. Throughout this film, we witness the birth of a true horror icon – Karloff had already done a lot of good work, going back to the silent era, where he was occasionally known as “Karloff the Uncanny”, based on his unique control of facial expression and movement, which bordered between human and monstrous, which was precisely the quality that drove Whale to cast him in this part and immediately created one of the most memorable characters in horror cinema history. Unlike Count Dracula, another character considered iconic due to being the subject of a similarly acclaimed horror film, no one else has reached the heights of Karloff, who remains definitive in this role, and we have yet to see anyone come close to matching his exceptional work. Considering he reprised the role on more than one occasion, it appears like he had a fondness for the character as well. The rest of the cast is also quite good, but they are merely supplementary to Karloff, whose performance as The Monster is the only truly compelling aspect of this ensemble, which is otherwise still strong.

Anyone who has read even the most surface-level biography of Whale, or seen any of the non-fiction works based on his life (particularly his autumnal years after retreating into solitude) will undoubtedly know that Frankenstein was not only the film that defined his career, but was a work of art that meant a great deal to him personally. While it may not have been particularly obvious at the time, there are qualities in this film that are Whale’s attempts to explore certain concepts without making them obvious. The main difference between Shelley’s novel and other works of literary horror produced over the centuries is that this one centres squarely on a grotesque being, but where the true monster is contained within the regular population, the real horror is humans and their tendency to fear anything they don’t understand, and where their only response is to destroy anything that doesn’t fit into their preconceived notion of what is natural. Frankenstein’s Monster is a fascinating creation, and it is not difficult to see why Whale would be so attracted to this material, since he was someone facing his crisis of identity, his sexuality being viewed as deviant and his entire existence being subject to criticism based on who he was inside, leading to a life of self-loathing and loneliness, where he felt rejected from the very industry he helped define through his incredible and poignant work. This is primarily why his story is so tragic, as he retreated away from society, disappearing into obscurity mainly because no one understood him, until he met an unfortunate end, much like the monster at the heart of this film. Perhaps this is reading too much into the film, but there is a reason why the queer community has formed such a strong bond with this film (as well as the film that followed, with Bride of Frankenstein having even more of these themes embedded within), and Whale took advantage of the Pre-Code era to touch on some of these ideas, albeit in a more abstract manner.

The year 1931 is a definitive year for horror – in addition to Frankenstein, we’ve previously spoken about Tod Browning’s Dracula and Rouben Mamoulian’s Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, which alone proves that this was a banner year for a genre that was initially viewed as being secondary to the melodramas and swashbucklers that studios genuinely believed audiences were more interested in seeing, despite those genres falling out of favour, and horror only becoming stronger as time went on and audiences became more interested in other genres. Frankenstein is an incredible achievement, and it has stood the test of time better than many recent horror films, which become dated almost as soon as they are released, whereas these classical works have a sense of timeless intrigue and elegance that makes them incredibly captivating, nearly a century since their release. There is a genuine argument that Frankenstein is the best horror film of the 1930s (and perhaps the only one that can rival it is another Whale masterpiece, The Invisible Man), and the reasons for this are not difficult to discern – the genuine feeling of terror, the striking visual palette from which Whale is working, the strong writing and even the brief touches of humour all combine to create a vibrant and alluring work of horror that carries itself with both sophistication and an animalistic ferocity, which is particularly notable if we are looking beneath the surface to try and find the deeper meaning, which is unquestionably present, especially if we take into account Whale’s tendency to use his films as the means to convey complex ideas in a palatable and less obvious manner. Frankenstein has become a worthy contender for the most defining work of horror ever produced, and its brilliance is never restricted to just the aspects brought over from the Shelley novel, but also to the details infused in the narrative by Whale, who ensures that absolutely everything he does in this film is valuable and compelling, and adds to the overall experience, which is one built simultaneously on a foundation of social commentary and unhinged terror.