Something’s
stirring in the depths of the cinema…and it ain’t the remains of a sodden bag
of cheesy nachos. Ye gods, can it
be…? Surely not? Oh no, no – IT’S ALIVE!!!!
Yes in
case you hadn’t guessed I went to see Danny Boyle’s Frankenstein the other
week. I missed it on the stage but
luckily for me it’s been filmed for National Theatre Live; a scheme that allows
us to watch theatre productions in local cinemas.
Now
first of all I have to say something about the cinema I saw this in. I had a choice of all the local Odeons and
Vues and Cineworlds, but I decided on the Curzon in Clevedon, North Somerset. This is simply the most amazing cinema I’ve
ever been to. It first opened in 1912
and is one of the world’s oldest working cinemas. It’s now owned and run by the local community
and shows a mixture of new and classic films.
The inside is spectacular; it still has original (along with replica)
Art Deco features throughout and you can even climb the stairs to see an
exhibition about its history and visit the old projection room (I did wonder if
I was supposed to be in there for a moment but I think it was okay!). In the actual auditorium there’s an organ in
front of the screen (my mum reliably informs me sometimes it’s played!) and a
little kiosk that lights up and sells you snacks.
[the outside of the Curzon taken with Instagram]
So the
Curzon seemed the appropriate venue to watch Frankenstein somehow, with its
fusion of new and old – and Danny Boyle’s interpretation certainly takes Mary
Shelley’s 1818 novel and, well, whacks the viewer round the face with it repeatedly. Albeit in a good way! The set is captivating – hundreds of flickering
lights hang over a womb-like structure sat in the centre of the stage and a
heartbeat starts to reverberate…something
is about to be born! The creature burst out of its motherless womb and emerges
into the world: naked (well almost apart from a pair of pants), confused,
terrified. Not a daddy or mummy in
sight. And this is the angle Boyle’s
production (and Dear’s script) takes; we start with the creature and his
loneliness. We’re forced to watch as he
slides and struggles across the stage for surely a good ten minutes before the
errant parent, Frankenstein, finally arrives only to drive his “son” away in
revulsion. I must admit I thought of Clive
Barker’s Hellraiser at this point – you know, the bit when the skinless Frank
newly back from hell pulls himself across the floor.
***
plot spoilers ahead!! ***
Of
course this is a departure from Shelley’s novel where we only hear the
creature’s voice in the centre, once he’s already started to torment his
creator and murder those Frankenstein loves.
But with Boyle we sympathise immediately with the ‘wretch’ as we follow
his miserable journey, spurned by pretty much everyone he meets from day one. No wonder he descends into such a murderous
rage. But this change in structure makes
for some interesting audience effects.
In Shelley’s novel we only get to know the creature once he’s murdered
Frankenstein’s younger brother William; we find out what the creature is
capable of first but still come to love/forgive him. However in Boyle’s production we witness more
of a fall – we move from feeling empathy and sorrow for him to pure revulsion –
it’s hard to continue to sympathise with a character who rapes then murders the
one person (Elizabeth) who’s trying to help him. Whoah – hold up. This never happened – there was no funny
business in the book! Well yes, not exactly, but I
do think it holds true to the text in essence at least. The creepiest line in the novel has to be the
creature’s veiled threat “I shall be with you on your wedding night” that he
snarls when Frankenstein destroys the creature’s bride (and I love the fact Frankenstein doesn't even consider the threat to be directed at his new wife! It's always ME, ME, ME with that inventor). But Boyle’s interpretation is a logical one that
works with the sexual implications of that line. Still – it’s pretty uncomfortable viewing and
nearly put me off my Maltesers.
The
version I saw had Benedict Cumberbatch as Frankestein and Johnny Lee Miller as
the monster – they swapped roles on consecutive nights. The pairing really worked, and brought out
the textual echoes between the two characters – the delicate relationship
between master and slave – as we become unsure of who’s actually in
control. This relationship is drawn to
its full extent in the final scenes as Frankenstein chases (well, drags himself
along the ground) after his nemesis. The
monster seems to be in full control here.
In a topsy-turvy reflection of the birthing scene the creature now walks
tall and pulls the strings as the creator scrabbles around on the floor. But the creature still needs his creator –
without each other they are nothing. Everything
else dear to both of them has been destroyed and they only live to torment/love
each other.
One
thing I really loved about this version is its sly sense of humour. Despite the creature’s articulate use of
language he uses a broken, halting, garbled pronunciation throughout –
definitely a few laughs when he recited Milton word perfect. Elizabeth is great too – she’s a much more
forceful and solid character than in the novel.
When she asks to travel with Frankenstein and help with his studies he says
she wouldn’t understand. She retorts
that it’s only because she’s been denied a proper education, what with being a
woman and all. However I would say the script’s
a bit dodgy in places – especially in the beginning (“Piss off” yells a swarthy
type at the creature. It’s all for a gag
later so the monster can echo it back to the old Delacey) and sometimes it
verged on the edge of being a bit too self-aware and forced.
And
the experience of watching theatre on screen at the cinema? I can honestly say I didn’t feel distanced or
unconnected at all. In fact the varied
use of other camera angles among the long shots allowed perhaps a better view
than live at certain moments.
So
this was a visual feast – dynamic, fast moving, shocking and true to the ethos
of the novel. Even if the dialogue was a
bit cringe-worthy in places.
