Baron Frankenstein (Peter Cushing) discovers a technique of
isolating the soul, thus preserving life indefinitely; he chooses a
disfigured village girl (Susan Denberg) to experiment with, perfecting
her body via surgery and then transferring the soul of her
recently-executed lover (Robert Morris) to occupy her body….
Hammer and Universal’s collaboration The Evil of Frankenstein
(1964) proved successful at the box office, but it still took a little
while for the writers at Hammer to concoct a new Frankenstein adventure. By
the time Anthony Hinds delivered the next installment, he had decided
to harken back to a warmed over idea first mooted in the late 50s, which
had been designed to cash in on the success of Roger Vadim’s scandalous
and successful And God Created Woman. The reference may
have been a little out of date by the time Hinds found a way of making
the idea work, but it still had obviously exploitable elements. In
1966, when the film went before Arthur Grant’s camera, Hammer had split
with Universal and they were in the midst of a money-saving production
arrangement with Associated British in the UK and Twentieth Century Fox
in the U.S. It was
producer Anthony Nelson Keys who concocted the idea of making two films
back to back, each utilizing essentially the same sets and much of the
same crew. The first films to employ this tactic were
Dracula Prince of Darkness and Rasputin the Mad Monk, produced and
released in the UK in 1965 (US release: 1966), and these were followed
by the “Cornish duo” of Plague of the Zombies and The Reptile, released
in 1966. Frankenstein Created Woman and The Mummy’s
Shroud, both produced and released in the UK in 1966 (US release to
follow in 1967), would bring this short-lived tradition to a close. The
advantages of the technique clearly were outweighed by the deficits in
the long run, and in terms of what was showing on screen, these last two
suffered from production values which appeared positively anemic
compared to the lush and beautiful Hammer gothics of the late 1950s and
early 1960s.
The story is at once intellectually ambitious and thematically troubling. The
concept of Frankenstein using science to “capture” the soul is a heady
one – and it is this which has endeared the film to Hammer buff/Oscar
winning filmmaker Martin Scorsese – but it is inconsistent with the
character’s belief system – or lack thereof. There’s
something inherently troubling about the notion of Frankenstein even
accepting the notion of the soul, let alone addressing this “life
essence” in such terms. The screenplay makes no effort to explain how he even came to light upon such an experiment. The
concept of the character is also closer to Hinds’ swashbuckling, light
hearted version of the character from Evil – and the presence of the
character’s burned hands (which render him incapable of delicate
surgery, thus necessitating his
use of the drunken village doctor played by Thorley Walters to serve as
his hands) definitely ties the film into that previous adventure. Thus,
the fans who insist upon attributing the character’s growth and nuances
to director Terence Fisher fail to acknowledge some practical
realities. While Jimmy Sangster had conceived the
character as an amoral dandy who ends up literally becoming his own
creation, Hinds’ reboot changed him to an altogether more positive force
for change and innovation. After this, in Frankenstein
Must Be Destroyed, the character would change back to the more ruthless
nature of the earlier Sangster versions, this time with Bert Batt
handling screenwriting duties, while Hinds’ final visitation of the
character in Frankenstein and the Monster from Hell (1972) finds him
wedged somewhat between the good natured rogue of his earlier screenplay
and the deranged genius of
Sangster and Batt. In any event, the Baron present in
Frankenstein Created Woman is virtually reduced to supporting player
status – thus making this the closest Hammer ever came to sidelining
Peter Cushing in his most iconic genre role, just as they had done with
Christopher Lee in the Dracula franchise. That’s not to
say that Cushing isn’t given ample screen time – he certainly is – but
the dramatic arc of the story is more concerned with the other
characters in the long run.
The “monster” this time is played by Susan Denberg, a former
Playboy centerfold who caught the eye of Hammer’s managing director, Sir
James Carreras. Carreras knew an exploitable asset when
he saw it, and he wasted no time arranging for the stills photographer
to shoot a variety of pictures of Denberg (kitted out in a sort of
bikini made of bandages) being “birthed” by Cushing. These
images captured the imagination of fans, and a rumor persists in some
circles that they are the only surviving evidence of a “creation scene”
which was never filmed in the first place. Denberg had
very little actual acting experience at the time of filming, but under
the tutelage of Terence Fisher, she delivers a rather touching and
effective performance. She’s dubbed by another performer, but the dubbing is of good quality, and her physical movements
and reactions show that she had genuine talent beyond her obvious good looks.
Cushing, of course, performs beautifully. It would
have been easy for him to walk through this part by this stage in the
game, but he was much too professional to adopt such a mentality. He
plays the role with warmth and sly humor, making this an altogether
more “lovable” Baron Frankenstein than the character we first got to
know in The Curse of Frankenstein (1957).
The other standout performance is by Hammer/Fisher favorite Thorley Walters, who plays the drunken and disgraced Dr. Hertz. Walters
always bore a slight resemblance to Nigel Bruce, the English actor
known for playing a bumbling version of Dr. Watson against Basil
Rathbone’s most canonical Sherlock Holmes, and indeed he was even cast
in the role in Fisher’s disastrous experiment in German filmmaking,
Sherlock Holmes and the Deadly Necklace (1962), which cast Christopher
Lee as the great detective. This film, however, presents Walters at his most “Bruce-as-Watson.” The
character is a self described “broken down, drunken old muddlehead,”
and he effectively stands in for the audience in his relationship with
the brilliant Baron. It’s Walters’ function to ask an increasingly exasperated Cushing to explain what he’s doing, and it’s
a tribute to Walter’s natural likability as an actor that this never comes off as strained or contrived. Walters
would go on to play one more role for Fisher (as the short tempered but
even more idiotic police inspector in Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed)
and then one last role for Hammer (as the burgomaster in Vampire Circus,
1971), but Dr. Hertz arguably remains his most beloved
characterization.
Director Fisher handles the action with grace and economy. His excellent use of framing and editing is evident throughout. The
various “revenge” scenes, wherein the “possessed” Christina, driven by
the vengeful spirit of her lover, visits retribution on the men who used
to torment her, are beautifully executed, even verging on the surreal
at times. Indeed, the basic concept of the “monster”
taking revenge on three pampered, well-to-do louts would be brushed off
and used to even greater effect by Hinds for Taste the Blood of Dracula
(1969). On the downside, despite Fisher’s best efforts, the film simply looks cheap – even tacky at times. Arthur
Grant was always a cinematographer for whom speed and economy meant
more than experimentation – his lighting was always perfectly solid and
professional, but it never
sought to emulate the poetry of Jack Asher or even Michael Reed. His
work here is similarly professional but uninspired, and this, coupled
with some unusually cramped looking sets, helps to make this film look
the cheapest of all the Hammer Frankenstein films – that is, unless we
count Jimmy Sangster’s Horror of Frankenstein (1970), an ill-conceived
attempt to rejuvenate the franchise at the box office by casting
youthful Ralph Bates in the lead role.
Despite its shortcomings, however, Frankenstein Created Woman remains an engaging film. Fisher’s
flair for handling drama and characterization gives the film genuine
“soul,” and the performances help to compensate, as well. The impact is aided by a wonderful, melancholy soundtrack by James Bernard. It may not emerge as top tier Fisher, but it is still a well done and enjoyable addition to the franchise.
Images: Marcus Brooks
