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7 reviews, 65 user ratings
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| Gods and Monsters |
by Rob Gonsalves
"Ian McKellen deserved an Oscar for this."
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"Died under mysterious circumstances": those are words to conjure with, and also words perfectly befitting James Whale, found dead in his California swimming pool in 1957.Retired from directing films for almost a decade, Whale was in physical and mental decline -- though only in his sixties -- and his most famous work, his two Karloff Frankenstein pictures, was nearly half a lifetime behind him. Was his death a suicide or an accident? Christopher Bram's 1995 novel Father of Frankenstein had some theories, as does the film version, Gods and Monsters. Both book and movie also take advantage of one key fact about Whale: he was openly gay in an era of closeted directors and stars.
Why is that important? Well, the reason Whale is mainly remembered for his horror movies -- including The Invisible Man and The Old Dark House as well as Frankenstein and The Bride of Frankenstein -- isn't just that they're monster classics. It's also that an unmistakable streak of proud queerness runs through all of them: sympathy for the outcast and misunderstood, the "perverse" and "wicked." Like Tim Burton 50 years later, Whale identified with the Other. (This is particularly true of the wonderful horror-satire The Old Dark House, in which Whale seems to be kidding the ideal of a "normal" family while at the same time celebrating the entertaining wackos.) A case could be made that if F.W. Murnau (also gay) invented goth as we know it in modern culture, Whale brought it to the masses. Whale introduced a stylized filmic code that generations of gay horror fans have gravitated to -- including Clive Barker, one of the executive producers of Gods and Monsters, whose work, underneath all its flesh and gore, shares Whale's sensibility.
As played by Ian McKellen, the sickly old Whale keeps flipping back and forth in time, not out of nostalgia -- indeed, he'd rather not think of his painful past -- but because his life now offers no distractions from his memories. Bill Condon, who wrote and directed Gods and Monsters, sets up the flashback structure in a way that fractures Whale's consciousness, rather than whisking him away to more innocent times. Whale does enjoy thinking back on the days when he was on the set with Karloff and Elsa Lanchester and Colin Clive, but that only underscores the impotency and frailty of his existence now. His chief enemy is his failing mind, and the only possible escape from it is death. We may recall Karloff's line in Bride of Frankenstein: "We ... belong ... dead."
Then, as if by Hollywood magic, a distraction appears. He's Clayton Boone (Brendan Fraser), a hunky greenskeeper working on Whale's lawn. Whale is fascinated by Clayton at first sight -- more aesthetically, we suspect, than sexually (though that, too). Whale can't stop staring at Clayton's skull, as if it were a beautiful piece of sculpture. Clayton's head is also square enough to resemble that of Frankenstein's monster, and strong enough to make Whale forget about his own faulty brainpan. He invites Clayton indoors for tea, chat, and the occasional sketching session.
What develops between Clayton (who is Christopher Bram's invention) and Whale is one of the more intriguing relationships in recent movies. The resolutely hetero Clayton doesn't even realize at first that Whale is gay; after Whale's acidic housekeeper (the sourly funny Lynn Redgrave) gives Clayton the scoop, Clayton doesn't recoil -- he likes listening to the old guy. And who can blame him, with Ian McKellen in the role? McKellen had sensational control of his vocal effects in Apt Pupil, and he has it again here, caressing each vowel and tucking it snugly into bed. When talking to a sycophantic nerd (Jack Plotnick) who comes to interview him and just wants to discuss his horror films, Whale is rather curt and even cruel; with Clayton, Whale speaks with the ardent suavity of a man who knows that the only seductive tool he has left is his voice. Whale seems to view Clayton (Clay for short) as his own clay, to be molded into ... what? A god? A monster? Both, perhaps.
Bill Condon keeps the film's many metaphors from becoming too obvious, and he brings them all together with a gratifying click. Gods and Monsters deepens, becoming less a story about a horny old man lusting for a beefy garden boy than a parable worthy of Mary Shelley herself. In the end, Whale and Clayton both assume the position of god and monster, and the film turns melodramatic; the coda is even more so.But it's perfectly consistent with the work of James Whale, who was certainly unafraid of melodrama -- in his movies, and in his life. After all, his death has inspired decades of speculation, a novel, and now a film; the sly old entertainer knew how to make an exit, and 'Gods and Monsters' does full justice to him.
link directly to this review at https://www.hollywoodbitchslap.com/review.php?movie=554&reviewer=416
originally posted: 01/23/07 20:30:57
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USA
04-Nov-1998 (R)
UK
N/A
Australia
24-Jun-1999 (M)
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