based on Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein
Once upon a time, in the eighties, there was a film adaptation of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein that claimed to be a feminist reworking of the 1935 film, The Bride of Frankenstein. It starred Sting as Baron Charles Frankenstein, Jennifer Beals as the titular bride, Clancy Brown as the monster, and Quentin Crisp as the film’s version of Igor. Crisp gets killed off in the first five minutes. The film never recovers.
Cats and kittens, may I present to you—The Bride. Continue reading
based on the novel by Mary Shelley
In the second season of Once Upon a Time, the identity of Dr. Whale, a mysterious character played by David Anders, is finally revealed: he is, in fact, Dr. Frankenstein. Pulling characters from sources that aren’t fairy tales is not a new practice for the show, but only Frankenstein’s story has been told with such a unique visual flourish. Dr. Frankenstein’s flashback is told entirely in the visual language of the classic Universal horror films—black and white, severe Victorian costume, and palpable atmosphere. And the cincher is Anders, who plays Frankenstein as prim and precise, eyes flashing from behind eyeliner that evokes early stage makeup instead of dashing pirate. (Once Upon a Time already has a pirate. And I hate him.)
Frankenstein by Mary Shelley
read by Cori Samuel
Recently, the leadership in my ladies only sf book club opened up. Naturally, because attempting to navigate adult life, working two gigs, and garner funding for Operation New York isn’t enough of a challenge, I decided to take on the responsibility. To be fair, it’s a lovely gig—running discussion, organizing our monthly meetings, and thinking about fun field trips for a pack of literary-minded lady nerds. (Oh my goodness, we should totally all go see Her before it leaves theaters! Good idea, me!) To mark a new era of our book club, I decided that we needed to start at the beginning, when the eighteen-year-old Mary Shelley created science fiction, to significantly better results than her protagonist.
Fathom Events is awesome. Last summer, you might recall my costumed viewings of The Lord of the Rings in theaters; these are the folks that made it happen. They screen all sorts of amazing things in theaters, from productions at the Metropolitan Opera to episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation. When I heard they were screening the National Theatre’s production of Frankenstein, I immediately reached out to my friend Natalya, and, on Wednesday, we trekked to the north side of Atlanta to take it in.
I’ve been following the dialogue between Margaret Atwood and Ursula Le Guin concerning what exactly constitutes science fiction for some time, because it’s an important question–at what point is that line drawn? We tend to think that other people see genres the same way we do, as Atwood and Le Guin did. However, to their surprise, they discovered they did not, making their chief conflict quite complicated. When I attended one of Atwood’s lectures at Emory a few weeks ago, I was quite taken with her choice of phrase when she was discussing the many meanings SF has to her–it depends on your “literary taxonomy”. To further explore that idea, I’ve decided to clarify and contemplate my personal literary taxonomy.
(Obviously, we’re only dealing with fiction here–nonfiction and fiction are as different as the day and night. It’s only when you try to pick out the different phases of the moon that you run into trouble.)