The main danger one is in when approaching Rowland V. Lee’s 1939 film Son of Frankenstein is that of over-optimism – I mean, it’s a Universal horror movie from the 1930s (only just, but it still counts), a pretty close follow-up to two of the most celebrated films in the genre, and a film boasting what looks like a very strong cast by the standards of its day – Basil Rathbone, Boris Karloff and Bela Legosi. The potential ambiguity in the title – are we talking about the biological son, or his more celebrated artificial progeny? – is also quite promising. Your expectations inevitably perk up a bit despite the fact that this is still a relatively obscure film these days.
It’s in continuity with Frankenstein and Bride of Frankenstein – well, as in continuity as these films tend to get – and opens in the small village of, er, Frankenstein, at some largely unspecified point in the early 20th century. As we have noted before, these old horror films – regardless of provenance – tend to have an odd relationship with time, in that everywhere outside the United States seems to be stuck in the previous century somehow. At least this one barely has to disregard the existence of the Second World War, as some others are obliged to.
Anyway, in the small central European village of – er – Frankenstein, the will is being read of the recently deceased Baron Frankenstein, whom we must suppose is meant to be Colin Clive from the first two films. The old Baron was not a popular fellow in the village that bears his family name, as the reputation of the place has been comprehensively trashed by the activities of the mad scientist and his creation. When the news arrives that the old Baron’s son is on the way from America (where he was apparently raised and educated), the parish council decide to withhold the customary friendly welcome.
But it seems that Wolfgang von Frankenstein (Rathbone) is used getting a hard time of it, as you might well be after growing up in the States with a name like that. He has still managed to build a successful medical career, though not one so glittering that he isn’t happy to chuck it all in and go off to somewhere unspecified in Europe and be one of the landed gentry. Still, he’s not a happy man, feeling his dad got a raw deal, and he’s even annoyed that most people erroneously stick the family name on the monster (yes, even back in the 1930s this was a thing). Quite what Mrs Frankenstein (Josephine Hutchinson) makes of it all no-one bothers to ask, while little Pete Frankenstein (a remarkably annoying performance from Donnie Dunagan) doesn’t seem to care either way.
Soon enough they are settled in at Castle Frankenstein and entertaining such local dignitaries as the chief of police (Lionel Atwill), who had his arm ‘torn out by the roots’ by the creature as a child (the wooden arm at least gives Atwill many opportunities for some quite extraordinary bits of business as he polishes his monocle, etc) – needless to say this didn’t happen on-screen and was never referred to in either of the earlier films. The chief is mainly there to lay in some plot about a string of mysterious murders in the area. The new Baron decides to have a poke about in his father’s old lab, where he meets Ygor (Lugosi), a former blacksmith and the local outcast: he was hanged for murder and declared dead, only to revive and make a reasonable recovery (apart from the badly-healed bone sticking out of the side of his neck – even today this is an effectively repulsive detail).
Ygor offers to show Frankenstein the family vault, which is under the old lab, and rather to his astonishment (if no-one else’s), the new Baron discovers the creature (Karloff) is there alongside his ancestors, comatose after an accident. Ygor indicates the creature is his friend and ‘does things’ for him, and Lugosi’s cleverly obscene performance does lead one to wonder just what those things are (when it turns out to just be a string of murders it’s almost a relief). The old lunatic suggests the Baron might be able to get the creature back on his dainty little feet again, thus providing him with his friend back and Frankenstein with the opportunity to salvage his father’s reputation. And, Ygor insinuates, Wolfgang may feel a personal obligation to the creature of a different kind, given they were both brought into being by the same man. ‘Are you suggesting that thing is my… brother?’ enquires a visibly outraged Rathbone, and for a second or so the door opens on a radically different and much more interesting film about sibling rivalry between the different sons of Frankenstein.
Only to slam shut and never be even approached again, regrettably. Well, Wolfgang goes along with Ygor’s idea – what could possibly go wrong?!? – only to later learn that all the people who were mysteriously murdered over the last few years were members of the jury who originally convicted his new associate. Yes, Ygor’s been using the monster to get his revenge – which isn’t a flat-out awful idea, but a very thin one to hang a whole sequel on, which is what they do.
The only other idea which is even vaguely interesting in the film is the suggestion that, rather than electricity, the original Baron ended up using cosmic rays to animate his creation. This explains the superhuman nature of the monster – why it seems impervious to bullets, never ages, and never seems to need food or drink – but all it really does is fill plot holes, not generate plot material.
So in the end we are left with a film with decent production values and a good cast – this was Universal’s first horror movie in several years, and they clearly pushed the boat out on it – but nothing really to say for itself. It’s tempting to say they’re just relying on Karloff’s presence in that iconic makeup, but he’s very much a supporting player here, rather overshadowed by Bela Lugosi and his attempts to chew on, or at least slaver over, the scenery. It’s really Lugosi’s film, and possibly a better showcase for him than even Dracula. Rathbone gives another briskly energetic performance as the younger Frankenstein but can’t really suggest any darkness or ambiguity in the character.
In the end this is a more-of-the-same kind of sequel. The stuff it’s repeating is obviously pretty good, but the film’s ambition seems so limited that it’s no wonder the returns feel as if they’re already badly diminished. You can see why Karloff thought there was nothing new left to do with the monster; two films later he was fighting the Wolf Man, and his encounter with Abbott and Costello followed not long after. The odd thing is that both of those movies are, in their own way, more memorable than this one.
No Chic. Just Geek. 