YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN (1974)

Few films blend the serious and the surreal, the profound and the profoundly silly, quite as well as Young Frankenstein. It’s a story that tracks the return of Dr Frederick Frankenstein (Gene Wilder) to his homeland of Transylvania, where his infamous grandfather, the mad scientist Victor Frankenstein, has bequeathed him his entire estate. There, Frederick meets his assistant Igor (Marty Feldman), his laboratory assistant Inga (Teri Garr), and the secretive housemaid Frau Blücher (Cloris Leachman), who may have had a deeper connection with the castle’s previous resident than she’s willing to admit…

Young Frankenstein may not be quite as funny as some of Brooks’ other spoofs, but that’s largely because this Gothic masterpiece arguably transcends the confines of parody. Instead of merely serving as a riotous, uproarious spin on the genre like Blazing Saddles (1974), Young Frankenstein becomes an earnest depiction of obsession with divine power, as well as our desire to overcome our mortal limitations. Still, Brooks and his stable of frequent collaborators never give too long a pause between puns, gags, or laughs. In combining comedy and drama so well, Young Frankenstein becomes the director’s most complete film.

Perhaps the most striking aspect of Brooks’ fourth film is the visual style. Plainly reminiscent of 1930s monster flicks, from which the project took so much aesthetic inspiration, Young Frankenstein features gloriously muted hues and gorgeous monochrome photography. This has exactly the desired effect: we’re transported back to the days of classic science-fiction horror. Delicate chiaroscuro lighting illuminates our protagonists in exquisite fashion, and it feels as though one of Mary Shelley’s previously unpublished manuscripts, one which she presumably would have written while high on laughing gas, has been vividly brought to life.

That’s because Young Frankenstein clearly demonstrates an affection for the works that inspired it. Jokes never appear to be directed at the genre itself, unlike how Blazing Saddles joyfully ripped apart the ludicrous tendencies of the traditional Western format. Instead, this mesmerising slice of macabre cinema relies just as heavily on the iconography that came to define Gothic fiction: incessant bolts of lightning, fingers of moonlight reaching through decaying tree branches, and the shaky flame of a candle that brightens tenebrous corridors.

While there’s clearly an overarching appreciation for Gothic horror, much of the imagery in Young Frankenstein is purely celebratory of Shelley’s groundbreaking tale. Smoke billowing off a recently reanimated corpse, a giant carrying his stolen bride through a forest dense with fog, skeletons, brains, and two men digging up a corpse in teeming rain. The castle itself looks like something out of Roger Corman’s adaptation of Edgar Allan Poe’s The Masque of the Red Death (1964), or William Castle’s House on Haunted Hill (1959): replete with cobwebs and covered in dust, it’s the quintessential lair required of any budding mad scientist.

Suffice to say, there’s so much to appreciate visually in Young Frankenstein that you often forget how funny the film is. In fact, these morbid sequences are often punctuated by a gag, such as the hilarious grave-robbing sequence. As a good-natured, yet incompetent policeman offers assistance, he utters the unfortunate choice of words: “Need a hand?” “No, thanks…” Frederick says. “I already got one.”

And while it may be a spoof, there’s a lot less winking at the audience than is expected in a Brooks film, something that leading man Wilder was keen on avoiding. It’s for this same reason that Brooks doesn’t make an appearance; Wilder only agreed to star if the director didn’t make another of his absurd cameos. Brooks recalled their conversation, with Wilder telling him: “You have a way of breaking the fourth wall, whether you want to or not. I just want to keep it. I don’t want too much to be, you know, a wink at the audience.”

As much as I enjoy Brooks’ gut-busting portrayal of the governor in Blazing Saddles, I can’t help but think that Wilder was right: a cameo from Brooks would have completely ruined the immersion. This wasn’t such an issue in Blazing Saddles, in which a character stares down the camera lens roughly every two minutes. But there’s a greater, far more sincere dedication to narrative in Young Frankenstein, and even Marty Feldman’s winking at the audience here can feel a little tonally inconsistent with the rest of the story.

However, that’s just how Brooks likes his comedy, and some of that was bound to worm its way into the final product, regardless of what Wilder wanted. The sight gags and slapstick continue to delight even 50 years later. Whether it’s a bossy girl flying through a window after encouraging a giant to play on the see-saw with her, a blind man pouring soup into his monstrous guest’s lap, or clinking mugs a little too zealously, Young Frankenstein never fails to get a laugh out of me.

A particular favourite of mine is the game of charades that ensues as Frankenstein is being strangled by The Monster (Peter Boyle). Other great sight gags include a hump that seemingly shifts across Igor’s body—“What hump?”—and a book written by the mad scientist Victor Frankenstein modestly titled: How I Did It. Other lines are just genuinely funny. When Blücher (even as I type this, the horses in a nearby field have started screeching in fright) finds Frederick lying naked with Inga on the operating table, informing him that his fiancée will arrive any second, she intones with barely concealed scorn: “I suggest you put on a tie…”

Not all the jokes quite garner the desired reaction, with most of the damp squibs being eye-rolling wordplay. A lot of the puns aren’t really that funny (even the first time you hear them, let alone on the eighth or ninth viewing), but they do contribute to an atmosphere of overall silliness. Without this air of ludicrousness, the film just wouldn’t be the same. So, while most of the wordplay isn’t quite hilarious, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t secretly love it.

Brooks and his players are perfectly happy being deeply silly, and there’s something rather charming about that. It also helps that no scene feels inessential, and there isn’t any gratuitous meandering in the plot; if a joke doesn’t land, Brooks doesn’t stick around until it does. The terrific pacing ensures that the next gag is fast approaching. With the film originally being twice the length, Brooks and Wilder went on an extensive cull to purify the final product, eliminating any joke that they deemed subpar.

Of course, the greatest source of humour is derived from the crazed performances of all our actors, particularly Gene Wilder. Each of our players marvellously overacts (and the film is richer for it), but it’s Wilder at his most unhinged that steals the show: “It! Could! Work!” Oscillating between sublime equanimity and unparalleled mania in mere seconds, it’s still my favourite performance of his.

We’re also treated to another brilliant (but unfortunately limited) showing from Madeleine Kahn. She’s brilliant in every scene she’s in, making every second of her performance memorable. I still can’t say goodbye to people without thinking of her being overly cautious of her lipstick, her hair, her nails, and her coat that’s so prone to wrinkling. It remains the most antiseptic farewell you’ve ever seen. Cloris Leachman as the frightening Frau Blücher—there go those horses again—provides superb support.

Meanwhile, it’s Teri Garr who arguably gives the funniest performance out of anyone, as the German assistant who’s hopelessly infatuated with Dr Frankenstein. The sexual tension that burns between them is as amusing as it is endearing, and her occasionally ditzy theatrics always crack me up: “Stop it! Stop it! You’ll kill him!” Other commendable performances include Kenneth Mars as Inspector Kemp, a one-armed inspector, who inexplicably (but hilariously) wears a monocle over his eye-patch, and Gene Hackman, who wanted to try out comedy for once.

According to Brooks, everyone had so much fun on the set that no one really wanted the production to finish—it shows. The film is deeply lovable, if only to watch these scatterbrained misfits strike upon genius, fall in love, or inspire the capricious mob to take a meditative pause. However, Young Frankenstein is also one of the most beautifully filmed comedies of all time: as ominous shadows crawl up walls, and the foreboding silhouettes of blasphemous, ghastly activities flicker in the candlelight, the wonderfully plaintive violin music draws us into this absurd, hysterical world, and has us wanting to stay there for as long as possible.

USA | 1974 | 105 MINUTES | 1.37:1 (ORIGINAL) • 1.85:1 (OPEN MATTE) | BLACK & WHITE | ENGLISH

Cast & Crew

director: Mel Brooks.
writers: Gene Wilder & Mel Brooks (based on the novel ‘Frankenstein’ by Mary Shelley.)
starring: Gene Wilder, Peter Boyle, Marty Feldman, Cloris Leachman, Teri Garr, Kenneth Mars & Madeline Kahn.