Girls, I Am Telling You, This "Frankenstein" Was Cursed!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                            Another film referenced when I was a child, thanks to "Famous Monters Of Filmland Magazine."  But, darlings, having finally seen this film, I tell you it is tremendous disappointment.

                                             "The Curse Of Frankenstein" was Hammer's first entry in the horror market, released in 1957, mistakenly thinking refined British actors, lush sets, and costumes would outdo Universal. Far from it, according to what we saw on "Svengoolie" the other night.

                                                If Christopher Lee had never made this film, he might have become a star sooner.  His role, as The Creature (so called here) is thankless, gives him nothing to do, and instills none of the poignancy Karloff invested in it, which in some moments, recalled to me Patty Duke in "The Miracle Worker."  It took "Horror Of Dracula," the following year, to really put it on the map.

                                               And what is with that make-up?  I mean, look closely and you can see his actual forehead!  Universal was wise to order Hammer not to copy the iconic Karloff look but couldn't something better been done?  Even AIP did a superior job in "I Was A Teenage Frankenstein," released that same year.

                                                   Now, I am not saying Universal's 1931 version was faithful to the Mary Shelley novel.  But it had art direction, cinematography, actors, and an atmosphere that transcended mere horror into art, which was what Shelley aimed for.  So I prefer this more iconic version.

                                                       "The Curse Of Frankenstein" is more a mash up of Mary Shelley.  It eliminates much of the Universal context, instead reaching for mistakes of its own.   For instance, the character of Justine Mortiz, played by Valerie Gaunt (Who next year would be Lee's bosomy bride in "Horror Of Dracula.") is not the center of tragedy, but here a slutty maid whom old goat Peter Cushing playing a long-in-the-tooth Victor Frankenstein, takes up with.  Justine's real story is she was the governess of Victor's younger brother, Ernest, and, while on a picnic, the child wanders off, and encounters the Monster.  What starts out friendly ends tragically as Ernest is killed, because he is frightened, and the Monster does not want attention called to him.  Being last to see Ernest, Justine is suspected, caught, convicted, and hanged, leaving Victor to wish everlasting mercy on this poor, innocent girl's soul, and sealing his everlasting guilt over what he has created.

                                                           This version played like farce.  The whole thing was predictable and anti-climactic.  Worse, not a bit scary.  If you missed it, girls, don't fret; you can afford to!

                                                              And how this movie needed a hunchbacked assistant!

                                                              Even Marty Feldman!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!