Sometime in the 1950s, American writer/producer Milton
Subotsky (later to head Hammer's rival, Amicus) approached Hammer with
the idea of doing a remake of James Whale's Frankenstein. Producer
Anthony Hinds didn't think much of the idea and rightly reckoned that
any infringement on the material as established in the earlier versions
of the 30s and 40s would bring the legal eagles at Universal Studios
swooping down on Hammer. Hinds saw potential in completely ignoring the
earlier versions, however, and decided to entrust screenwriter Jimmy
Sangster with delivering a fresh adaptation of Mary Shelley's classic
novel. In 1956, Sangster was still a "lowly" production manager, but he
pitched an idea that Hinds liked, and was given the chance to write his
first script, for the Quatermass
knock-off X The Unknown. Hinds recognized that Sangster had talent as a
writer and, better still, he also had a practical understanding of the
limitations of Hammer's resources. He could be relied upon to deliver a
filmable script which wouldn't stretch the company's coffers too far.
Frakenstein would be Sangster's sophomore effort as a writer, and the
final result would have undreamed of repercussions for just about
everybody connected with the project.
Whereas the Universal series highlighted the character of
the monster - played in the first three films by Boris Karloff, but then
reduced to lesser actors with mixed results for the remaining sequels -
Sangster decided to focus his energies on the character of Frankenstein
himself. It's a common misconception,
created in large part by Universal themselves, that Frankenstein is the
monster, whereas in fact, he is actually the creator himself. Sangster ignored Shelley's conception of an
earnest, well-intended medical student who overstretches his bounds by
attempting to create life. Instead, he
recreated the character as a Byronic dandy with a sadistic streak. The monster and the creator were to become
one, in essence.
Hinds was thrilled with Sangster's efforts and assembled a
dream team to realize his vision. Director Terence Fisher later
maintained that he was owed a project by the company, but Hinds would
contradict this, stating that he knew he was the best man for the job
and would have hired him regardless. Fisher's career up to that point
was not terribly distinguished: a long string of low budget potboilers
with little to distinguish them from the "quota quickie" pack, though he
did helm a few fine pictures like Portrait from Life and So Long at the
Fair. He had also directed Hammer's earliest brushes with sci-fi and
fantasy, Spaceways, Four Sided Triangle and A Stolen Face, and the
thematic concerns of those films would be reflected here. Fisher proved
to be a natural for the
Gothic; by his own admission, he was not a fan of the genre at the time
and had not seen the original Universal horrors, and he even rejected
invitations to see them, hoping to keep his own approach fresh and
uninfluenced by what had come before. He was wise to do so, as his
matter-of-fact, down-to-earth approach helped to make this a very new
kind of horror film. Fisher was also given a crew that would help to
define the look and style of Hammer horror: cinematographer Jack Asher,
production designer Bernard Robinson, camera operator Len Harris, editor
James Needs, composer James Bernard, etc.
To head the cast, Hammer elected to ignore their
long-standing policy of importing a faded American name for marquee
value. This was to be a very British horror film, and only a British
actor could do it justice. Hinds turned to Peter Cushing, then the
biggest TV star in the country, who surprised by the producer by
enthusiastically accepting the project. Cushing would subsequently
weigh the pros and cons of doing further films for the studio, rightly
recognizing that being associated with genre fare might impact his
chances of getting more "serious" film work, but he eventually decided
to embrace the steady flow of work, and a horror icon was born.
To play the creature (no longer referred to as the monster,
lest Universal's lawyers get tetchy about it), Hinds initially turned
his eye to imposing comic actor Bernard Bresslaw. In the end, however,
they decided to go with bit part player Christopher Lee. Standing 6'5"
in height, Lee also had background in mime, which would come in very
handy given that the role was mute. Lee suffered under the hands of
makeup artist Phil Leakey, who was challenged with the task of devising a
new monster makeup design. His early sketches ranged from the bizarre
to the ludicrous, with Lee imploring that it should just look like a
jigsaw puzzle as he's been stitched together from various body parts.
The final makeup drew jeers from fans accustomed to Jack Pierce's iconic
Karloff
design, but it has stood the test of time and is every bit as effective
a piece of work in its own way.
Finally released to cinemas as The Curse of Frankenstein,
the film was the first Gothic horror to be filmed in color - and the
added bonus of some then-graphic gore and an emphasis on busty women in
cleavage-hugging period gowns outraged critics and tickled audiences.
Seen today, The Curse of Frankenstein remains one of
Hammer's finest films. Fisher directs with a sure and steady hand. The
characterization of the Baron it matched by Peter Cushing's superb
interpretation. Lee's creature is at once pitiable and genuinely
frightening; it is most assuredly one of his most under-valued
performances. The production values are solid and belie the film's low
budget. It also set the style for everything which would follow and did
so in a way that seems far more sure-footed than it probably should.
The character would be revisited in a series of sequels,
with Cushing appearing in all but one of them - that one being an
ill-advised parody of sorts, The Horror of Frankenstein (1970), starring
Ralph Bates. Sangster would pen the first follow-up, The Revenge of
Frankenstein (1958), while Hinds himself handled writing chores on most
of the other entries. Ironically, it was the Hinds and Sangster-free
Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed (1969), written by Bert Batt, which would
mark the series' high watermark. The various writers brought different
interpretations to bear on the character of the Baron, making it
impossible to view the series as one long-running saga, but Cushing's
commitment to the role made the films a delight. The Curse of
Frankenstein may not be as audacious as
some of the later entries, but it still remains one of the best of the
lot - and a classic slice of Hammer horror.
Appropriately enough, the film was the first of the initial
Hammer Gothics to hit blu ray through Icon and Lionsgate. Their Region
B/Region 2 blu ray/DVD combopack was met with much derision, however,
owing to a flawed transfer. Word has it that a 4K master was provided
by Warner Brothers, but Hammer failed to capitalize on the format's
capabilities by cleaning up the image and going for a sharper, better
defined image. As is so often the case with these controversies,
however, the extreme reactions are a bit over the top. While the
presentation is far from definitive and will never be used as a
reference quality disc for showing off the capabilities of the medium,
it's still quite watchable - especially in the full frame transfer which
restores some information missing in
the 1.66 version which was also included. Colors are a bit pale and
the image isn't as sharp as one would like, but it marks an improvement
over the DVD edition from Warner Bros and restores a shot which had been
censored for many years (you'll know it when you see it). The disc is
also overflowing with extras, including an informative and entertaining
commentary by Jonathan Rigby and Marcus Hearne and a wonderful
featurette about Cushing.
Review: Troy Howarth
Images: Marcus Brooks
