In recent years, a surprisingly large number of filmmakers have apparently thought to themselves, “What the world needs is a fresh take on Frankenstein.” This latest wave of reimaginings kicked off in 2023 with [missing title], followed by Guillermo del Toro’s [missing title] and then Maggie Gyllenhaal’s [missing title] in rapid succession. But while The Bride! “is so desperate to be novel and provocative that it forgets to offer any real substance,” as Inverse’s Hoai-Tran Bui writes, the original revisionist Frankenstein film wove complex ideas about gender and sexuality into a cash-grab sequel whose director had to be persuaded to take the job.
A WWI veteran who got his start in theater, James Whale’s Hollywood career took off when his 1931 adaptation of Frankenstein became a hit for Universal Pictures that fall. In the years after, he alternated between horror films and more straightforward dramas and rom-coms; early in his career, Whale had directed multiple projects about “The Great War,” and he feared being pigeonholed again—this time as a “horror director.” So he turned down Universal’s initial offer for a Frankenstein sequel, saying the script “[stunk] to high heaven” and that he’d “squeezed the idea dry” with the first film.
After several script drafts and the studio’s promises of future non-horror work, Whale finally agreed, and production on The Bride of Frankenstein began on January 2, 1935. Drawing from a subplot in Mary Shelley’s original novel where the Monster asks Dr. Frankenstein to make him a companion—a task the doctor starts but never finishes—The Bride of Frankenstein focuses on the relationship between Henry Frankenstein (Colin Clive) and his mentor Dr. Pretorius (Ernest Thesinger), with Henry’s fiancée (now wife) Elizabeth (Valerie Hobson) mostly serving as a wholesome, or at least human, counterpoint to the Monster’s grotesque yet glamorous Bride.
Whale’s homosexuality was an “open secret” in 1930s Hollywood, but between Frankenstein and The Bride of Frankenstein, the infamous Hays Code banned any portrayals of sexuality—especially homosexuality—in American films for the next three decades. Thus, the queer coding in The Bride of Frankenstein is covert but not particularly subtle: for example, Henry and Dr. Pretorius spend their nights in the lab trying to create new life while the younger doctor’s pretty wife sits alone in her bedroom.
Savvy 1930s audiences would have picked up on Pretorius’ flamboyant mannerisms just as easily as modern viewers do, and the Monster’s (Boris Karloff) lonely existence—feared and rejected for being different—takes on a heartbreaking melancholy when compared to the struggles of queer people in early-20th-century America. Queer horror generally emphasizes identifying with the villain, and Karloff’s creation is the most sympathetic of all Universal’s monsters.
Much is made of the fact that Elsa Lanchester has only about five minutes of screen time as the titular Bride, but the British actress makes the absolute most of her brief appearance. Her look is iconic: a tower of black hair with a shocking white streak, bandaged arms, and perfectly done eye makeup. But it’s Lanchester’s performance that truly makes the Bride memorable—her wide, panicked eyes, craning neck, and jerky head movements, which she learned by observing swans at the park.
And though it was invented for the movie, the ending of The Bride of Frankenstein aligns closely with the feminist spirit of Shelley’s original novel. Mary Shelley was the daughter of a famous feminist, and in Frankenstein, she notes the irony of Frankenstein trying to create life through science while sidelining and silencing the women in his life.
Brought back without her consent to be the companion of a man she didn’t choose, the Bride is an example of a woman whose bodily autonomy is hijacked by men who see her as little more than a means to an end. (It’s always ironic to see art depicting Frankenstein and his Bride as a happy couple.) And while the Monster is sympathetic in other ways, he becomes enraged and burns down Dr. Frankenstein’s lab when the Bride rejects him—he’s an undead version of the “nice guys” who react violently when women don’t give them the affection they feel they deserve.
It’s no wonder she wakes up screaming.
The Bride of Frankenstein is now streaming on HBO Max.