Exploring the origins of 'Frankenstein': A review of 'Gods and Monsters' (1998)

GODS AND MONSTERS (1998)

Bill Condon's Gods and Monsters stands as one of the most profoundly disappointing viewing experiences of my life, and I'm not sure why, since it doesn't really do anything wrong. Based on Christopher Bram's novel Father of Frankenstein, this oft-celebrated movie tells the story of the last days of legendary horror filmmaker James Whale, the auteur behind such beloved cinematic chestnuts as Frankenstein, The Invisible Man, and The Old Dark House. But while films of this sort often intrigue me (I love a good bio-pic as much as anyone), Gods and Monsters never really seems to be doing anything more than going through the motions. Despite the valiant efforts of a first-rate cast, the enigmatic shadow of Whale is never illuminated; as the end credits roll, he remains just as big a mystery to the audience as he was at the beginning of the story--perhaps even more so.

Part of the reason may be writer/director Condon's undisguised reverence for the story's source material. Condon, who comes across as a warm, friendly person in the accompanying DVD documentary, clearly has a passion for the work of Whale. And while I'd usually file such a tidbit in a review's "plus" column, I find myself less sure here; I can't help but wonder if Condon's desire to pay tribute to one of his favorite filmmakers has resulted in an overly romanticized portrait.

To be sure, Gods and Monsters does fall victim to that regrettable but nearly inescapable component of all "true" stories: revisionist history. As in the novel, the James Whale we see here is not so much a man as a characterization of the man we'd like him to be. The film's personification of Whale spans the full spectrum of personality traits, alternately depicting him as funny, charming, cultured, frustrated, eccentric, distinguished, persnickity, and (at times) an almost outrageously flaming fruit, flaunting his homosexuality for all the world to see. Although long banished from the gilded world of Hollywood filmmaking because of his shocking (in those days) sexual exploits, Whale here radiates only a fraction of the bitterness that the real filmmaker supposedly possessed. He's been distilled into a more audience-friendly "grumpy old man."

Nor does Gods and Monsters accurately portray the circumstances leading up to Whale's mysterious death in 1957. As with any number of other cinematic biographies, Gods has regrettably opted to fill in the factual gaps of its story with fictional characters. So enter Clay Boone (nicely portrayed by Brendan Fraser of The Mummy Returns), a temperamental ex-Marine who now works as a professional landscaper. Needing some extra cash, Boone happily agrees to serve as Whale's new lawn boy, not knowing that a strange friendship will soon blossom between himself and his reclusive, cantankerous employer. But perhaps this friendship is not as strange as it may initially appear: Clay soon reveals himself to be more sensitive than he lets on--and quite possibly more sensitive than even he himself realizes--which is part of what makes their relationship so interesting: Clay Boone, the former ex-marine and all-around tough guy, is, by virtue of his surprisingly tender nature, just as big an outcast as Whale himself.

What makes Gods and Monsters a worthwhile viewing experience, then, is not so much the story but the spirited performances and interplay of a consistently excellent cast. Whale, respectably portrayed by legendary British stage actor Sir Ian McKellen (Lord of the Rings), seems not so much to be playing Whale as trying to justify the filmmaker's strange life. Interestingly, McKellen depicts Whale as someone intentionally trying to establish a reputation as an amiable eccentric--I'm reminded of Harold from Hal Ashby's brilliant Harold and Maude.) The talented Lynn Redgrave (Shine) also has a meaty role as Whale's doting, overprotective housekeeper Hannah. And as previously mentioned, Brendan Fraser's considerable charms are not wasted in the role of Clay Boone.

But although films like Ed Wood and Shadow of the Vampire have proven that bio-pics about semi-obscure filmmakers can find an audience in today's marketplace, I could never quite shake the feeling that Gods and Monsters isn't so much celebrating Whale's life as exploiting it. Although Condon devotes a large portion of his screenplay to Whale's mental instability in the later years of his life, he does so at the expense of illumination. Too many uninsightful flashback sequences dot the landscape of the story, with little time actually devoted to the details of Whale's history, and those seeking insight into the celebrated filmmaker are apt to be disappointed. This movie is unfortunately not able to rise to the level of its sterling performances; as a result, Gods is a film which is, regrettably, less than the sum of its parts.

However, let me make one admission: my dissatisfaction with the film may well be the result of misplaced expectations on my behalf. As a horror buff, I really wanted to see a movie about James Whale, a macabre filmmaker who also happened to be a gay man. What I got instead was a movie about James Whale, a gay man who also happened to be a macabre filmmaker.

With all that said, Gods and Monsters isn't really bad: the acting resonates with authenticity and confidence, the dialogue frequently catches fire, and the director's ever-present hand is strong and sure behind the camera without ever becoming stylistically intrusive. But even so, I still felt the story only scratched the surface of who James Whale was; oddly, I feel that I actually know less about the eccentric filmmaker than I did before I watched the movie. (Although Gods shattered some of my preconceived notions about Whale, it offered no new insights to fill the void.)

Enough about the movie. How's the DVD?

Gods and Monsters has been issued twice on DVD: once by Universal (in 1998), and once by Lion's Gate (in 2003). The Universal version contains a theatrical trailer, an audio commentary track from Condon (which is more interesting than we might expect, considering his repeated apologies for not being very good at talking about his work), and a 30-minute documentary on the making of the film, which contains a fair bit of redundant information if you've already listened to the commentary. The documentary also sports some of the most gratuitous butt-smooching I've ever heard from a group of actors. I swear, if I never see another "making-of" special in which Actor A talks about the sheer unbridled delight of working with Actor B, while Actor B talks about the pants-wetting ecstasy of working with Actor A, it'll be too soon. The Lion's Gate edition, meanwhile, dispenses with nearly all of these features; as such, the Universal incarnation is the one to seek out. A VHS version is also available.
 

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