The Revenge of Frankenstein

Not wanting to change horses in the middle of a stream, British Hammer Films entrusts the task of producing the second film in its “Frankenstein” series to the same craftsmen who brought us the fresh exploits of “The Curse of Frankenstein” (1957): Terence Fisher handles the directing, Jimmy Sangster writes the screenplay, Peter Cushing slips back in the role of the eccentric scientist, and the technical team is basically rehired en masse.

And thus is born one of the finest movies of the series, an intense, elegant work imbued with a beguiling murkiness. Through his brilliant use of the language of film – rich with allusions, allegories, and judicious cuts – the director transforms the baron into a character of unexpected psychological depth. Far from repudiating the least noble traits that characterized the mad doctor in the prior film (in fact, Victor seems even more Machiavellian, immoral, and sexist this time around), Fisher attempts to provide context which, if not completely justifying the baron’s conduct, at least explains it.

Closely examining the evidence, the basic truth embodied in Victor’s outburst about the earlier experiment’s failure is undeniable (“It should have been perfect. I made it to be perfect. If the brain hadn’t been damaged [because of Paul Krempe] my work would have been hailed as the greatest scientific achievement of all time. Frankenstein would have been accepted as a genius of science. Instead, he was sent to the guillotine.“). Similarly, his renewed attempt to instill life in a body stitched together from assorted anatomical parts also takes an inauspicious turn due to outside interference – in this case the damage is done by a naive nurse and a sadistic janitor.

Bearing this in mind, it’s legitimate to ask how much the protagonist’s misanthropic and egocentric reactions might be due to the huge gulf separating his unappreciated, misunderstood genius from the outmoded, conservative mentality of the society he inhabits. The social critique in this regard is evident, with the representation of a dichotomous world populated by depressing subjects on both sides: aristocrats on one hand, painted as frivolous and effete with their Victorian etiquette, and the “hoi polloi” on the other hand, described as petty and proud of their grime.

Plot-wise, the story reaches a conceptually powerful conclusion when the baron’s brain is removed, to be subsequently implanted into a new body. The creator unwillingly becomes the creation!