‘The Bride of Frankenstein’ Remains An Unparalleled Horror Classic
85 years ago, James Whale’s campy, gothic masterpiece changed horror cinema forever.
I’ll never forget the first time I watched James Whale’s The Bride of Frankenstein. I rented it from the public library when I was ten, rushed home, and put it on. I was only about ten minutes into the film — the scene in which the Monster appears in the well beneath the fallen windmill and strangles poor Hans — when my mother and three-year-old sister came home. I was immediately told, “Turn that off while your sister is around.” And thus ended my first viewing. I, of course, revisited The Bride of Frankenstein later that night after everyone had went to bed, and found myself enamored with it. (Watching it in a dark house after midnight probably helped the mood a bit more than the midday watch would have.
At the time, I didn’t know exactly why I loved The Bride of Frankenstein so much. As I’ve gotten older, those reasons have become clearer. It’s a film that refuses to age, even as it passes its 85th birthday this week. It’s not just timeless; it’s damn near perfect. Every rewatch feels like the first (uninterrupted) time.
