***/**** Image A Sound B Extras A-
starring Ian McKellen, Brendan Fraser, Lynn Redgrave, Lolita Davidovich
screenplay by Bill Condon, based on the novel Father of Frankenstein by Christopher Bram
directed by Bill Condon
by Bill Chambers Retired filmmaker James Whale (an uncanny Ian McKellen) invites his gardener, a young ex-Marine named Clay Boone (Brendan Fraser), into the drawing-room for drinks and cigars. The scene purposely recalls the one from Whale’s The Bride of Frankenstein in which Karloff’s Creature accepts a lonely blind man’s hospitality, only to sour things by erupting at the sight of an open flame because he’s terrified of fire. Likewise, hulky Clay cuts short his time with Whale when the director’s conspicuous, some might say flaming, homosexuality begins to disgust him. “Same difference,” James tells Clay. “Fear and disgust. All part of the same great gulf that stands between us.”
Whale is not blind, though he does walk around in a haze of daydreams, fragmented memories, and olfactory hallucinations, all side effects of a debilitating stroke. In real life, these symptoms were compounded by depression and shock treatment. He also had a notoriously large appetite for younger men. Clay is like Frankenstein’s monster in that he resists the notion of being kept: Contrary to his namesake, the groundskeeper is not Whale’s to mold. Bill Condon’s Gods and Monsters is about an old man whose influence and powers of seduction left him long ago.
Executive-produced by Clive Barker, Condon’s film is based on Christopher Bram’s speculative novel Father of Frankenstein; there was no Clayton Boone, but there was certainly a James Whale, and he did live his final years tucked away at his cozy California estate. He was openly gay from the get-go and Hollywood never officially ostracized him for it (it would’ve been the height of hypocrisy), but other gay directors such as the esteemed George Cukor saw staying in the closet as a matter of decorum and resented Whale’s indiscretion. In Gods and Monsters, James is something of a self-made pariah because he can’t stomach being an outsider in a room full of outsiders–although the “sex scandal” the movie suggests ended his career is, as far as I know, a complete fabrication. Truthfully, the Nazis had more to do with his retirement than his sexual orientation did; the picture lacks the confidence to explore the more byzantine truths of queer history in Hollywood.
Whale’s suicide-by-drowning lends itself to Condon’s Sunset Blvd.-style intrigue, which traps Whale in one of his own expressionistic horrors, complete with a stentorian German maid played by Lynn Redgrave. Hannah, she’s called, is movie-Whale’s surrogate wife, taking care of him because, in her own words, “A man who is not married has nothing.” Clay is brilliantly introduced via an interview that turns into a game of strip poker, but ultimately he’s a beefcake cipher who never transcends his metaphorical status, serving little narrative purpose or function outside of Whale’s purview. It’s not like the character actually is Frankenstein and can rampage in the hills while Whale frets. Although this is a conceptually clever film, the invented aspects of the story are never as interesting or rich in pathos as those we know to be true. Still, the contemporary cinema rarely shows even allegorical interest in film history, and Condon’s passionate enthusiasm for the subject is at once obvious and infectious.
Towards the end of the film, buff Clay accompanies Whale to a party Cukor’s hosting, and Cukor looks on enviously at this pseudo-couple, according to plan. Later, at that same party, Whale finds himself alone, with Clay off on a beer hunt and actor David Lewis (David Dukes) angrily trying to find out who invited his ex-lover. (In real life, Lewis and Whale had been a couple for 23 years but were amicably separated at the time of Whale’s death. A better touchpoint might’ve been the lover he took up with after Lewis, who moved out when Whale hired a hot male nurse to care for him.) Our hero is compelled, in another visual reference to his Frankenstein pictures, to examine some roses: to stare at them, to touch them, to smell them. But, of course, it was Karloff who did that the first time, and it is here that we realize, just as we often confuse Frankenstein for his creation, we may have misidentified the monster for a god. Clay has rekindled something in Whale that won’t last, but in this moment he’s alive. Alive!
THE DVD
Gods and Monsters received multiple Academy Award nominations and won one, for Best Screenplay Adaptation. Universal responded by bumping up their scheduled plain-Jane disc to a Collector’s Edition. I’ll discuss its bonus features momentarily. The (16×9 enhanced, letterboxed 2.35:1) video on this DVD is phenomenal: Stephen M. Katz’s cinematography captures the ersatz English country gardens in all their lushness. The first few minutes of the transfer, during the opening credits, are not crisp, but once we’re safe and sound in Whale’s cocoon, the often-verdant image is breathtaking. I noticed haloing on faces in the more contrasty shots, yet nighttime scenes remain sharp and colourful, with deep blacks to boot.
As much as I wish I could similarly praise the sound beyond Carter Burwell’s Franz Waxman-esque score, it’s a boring mix with no low end to speak of. (Sadly, the Universal promo short that starts up automatically when one inserts the disc has bass to spare.) The audio comes in 2.0 Dolby Surround, and though it’s crisp and distinctive, the rears kick in only to handle thunder or music. There are two noteworthy extras on this disc, not counting the theatrical trailer. Clive Barker, who produced the film, narrates a refreshing 28-minute doc that’s closer to a retrospective of Whale’s career than to a making-of for Gods and Monsters, while the other supplement is a director’s commentary. Condon is animated and expresses his enthusiasm for DVD early on. Like McKellen’s James Whale, he’s thinking a thousand things per minute, but once the listener settles into his discursive patter, he’s a delight. Note that the Canadian release from Columbia TriStar is identical to the U.S. import (right down to the silkscreened vitals on the platter itself), save cover logos.
105 minutes; R; 2.35:1 (16×9-enhanced); English Dolby Surround; English subtitles; DVD-9; Region One; Universal (U.S.)/Columbia TriStar (Canada)
