Cast:
Robert De Niro (The Creation), Kenneth Branagh (Victor Frankenstein), Tom Hulce (Henry Clerval), Helena Bonham Carter (Elizabeth Lavenza Frankenstein), Ian Holm (Baron Alphonse Frankenstein), John Cleese (Professor Waldman), Aidan Quinn (Captain Robert Walton), Richard Briers (Grandfather), Robert Hardy (Professor Krempe), Trevyn McDowell (Justine Moritz), Celia Imrie (Mrs. Moritz), Cherie Lunghi (Caroline Frankenstein), and Ryan Smith (William Frankenstein) Directed by Kenneth Branagh (#041 - Thor)
Review:
"Frankenstein feels like an ancient tale, the kind of traditional story that appears in many other forms. It appeals to something very primal, but it’s also about profound things, the very nature of life and death and birth—about, essentially, a man who is resisting the most irresistible fact of all, that we will be shuffling off this mortal coil. It was sent to me as I was rehearsing a production of Hamlet, and it seemed to me that the two things were linked. Hamlet and Victor Frankenstein are each obsessed with death. Hamlet’s whole story is a philosophical preparation for death; Victor’s is an intellectual refusal to accept it."
On November 4, 1994, audiences got their chance to see a big-budget adaptation of a classic novel that had seen a dozen (or so) films that cribbed from it since the 20th century began. You might remember that Francis Ford Coppola had spearheaded a production to make a lavish adaptation of a famous horror novel for which the result was the lavishly mediocre Bram Stoker's Dracula (1992). But one can't stop there as a producer, I suppose, as here we are looking at the other horror movie that had Coppola involved, albeit not as director; the source material, as one already might know, is the 1818 novel Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus by Mary Shelley. The movie was originally written by Steph Lady prior to Coppola buying the rights to it; he planned to direct the film before deciding to ask Branagh to direct the film while also saying the importance of casting Robert De Niro as the Creature. At the time, Branagh was rehearsing a production of Hamlet and he perceived links between it and Frankenstein when it comes to the obsession with death (you can inquire about Branagh's mindset prior to the release of the film here, for example) You might remember that the Belfast-born Branagh had trained at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art before eventually becoming a director with Henry V (1989), the first of several adaptations of the work of William Shakespeare. Frank Darabont was brought in to do a second draft by Branagh. Audiences didn't really go out in droves as compared to the folks that saw Bram Stoker's Dracula (it wasn't a failure of course with its $45 million budget). Darabont later called it "the best script I ever wrote and the worst movie I've ever seen", stating that Branagh was entirely to blame (or give credit to, if one liked the film) for what essentially became an "operatic attempt at filmmaking". According to Lady, his script was used by a friend who taught at a film school about when a good script is "in the hands of a bad director." The makeup from Daniel Parker, Paul Engelen and Carol Hemming at least earned attention, receiving an Academy Award nomination (and it certainly seemed deserving, the creature does look pretty good here).
There is something at work in one's soul to try and understand where it all went up for a monumental example of being forgotten. How do you manage to make a movie with such a noted actor like De Niro and not end up being thought of first or even second in Frankenstein-adjacent movies? How do you make a movie with loads of amniotic fluid and eels to go along with a deliberately phallic tube...and not have any great lasting appeal? Even the defenders of Bram Stoker's Dracula (1992) can point to the style of the film as a lasting legacy (I personally put the legacy in that stupid look of its title character, but your milage may vary), but this is merely a movie that seems to fall by the wayside even with two memorable actors trying to lead the way. Branagh was once quoted as not being able to resist having a scene involving re-creating Elizabeth despite its difference from the novel because "it seemed to make psychological sense", one that could be different from the "high camp" from the two James Whale films. This seems to be amusing because of how much he figuratively seems to eat the movie right from under De Niro, gallivanting as if this really was a show for the stage. In his attempts to mine tragedy in what essentially is a war of creation, you get a performance that is purely in the middle-ground that (unfairly or not) really does remind one of better days with Peter Cushing as Frankenstein. Maybe that is just the curse of doing a Frankenstein film that ends up having to do things that might remind you of one of the more famous adaptations because you just expect it, even if it tries to repulse you with the idea of something that could just be possible somewhere beyond imagination. De Niro actually does pretty well with his performance (apparently, he studied stroke victims when it came to finding the voice for the Creature), it just so happens that he falls upon the strange double-edged sword that comes with being such a noted presence in acting that may be a bit lost among the makeup and the aforementioned bombast behind him. But the sequence with him taking shelter within a barn and a downtrodden family that features him seeing and learning about people on some sort of level is still a worthwhile one to view as a highlight, particularly with the end result of a creature that now has its worldview confirmed of hatred surrounding its existence. The dangers of the obsession with trying to win the game of creation pulls handily with Carter for a confused performance that at least has one shining moment: right around the climax, the book and film get to collide with each other in having a would-be bride be interrupted by the Creature...only here she gets her heart ripped out (okay, there's a scene right after that too, but it is more fun to let one be only a little bit surprised by revealing only the obvious moment of interest). The rest of the actors are left to sway at the weird execution of a film that veers between melodrama and disturbing (poor Cleese doesn't get much time underneath that wig, but I appreciate the effort), which mostly means Hulce and Quinn are left on the wayside a bit. The 123-minute runtime is probably a bit too much to really hold things together for what the movie believes itself to be in great tragedy, but at least it does try to keep the foot on the pedal of frantic filmmaking, for better or worse. Processing the film ended up where I liked the movie just enough. I don't know about calling it "profound" in being disturbing, but it is fairly entertaining even in profound averageness, so I suppose that is better than nothing. Highly ambitious even with its ultimate short-sighted execution, you might find something worth watching for a film that now can celebrate a third decade of anniversary.
Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.
Next up: Blair Witch 2.
