ABBOTT AND COSTELLO MEET FRANKENSTEIN: And Dracula and the Wolf Man, Too

Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein (1948) – Directed by Charles Barton – Starring Bud Abbott, Lou Costello, Lon Chaney Jr., Bela Lugosi, Glenn Strange, Lenore Aubert, Jane Randolph, and the voice of Vincent Price.

ABBOTT AND COSTELLO MEET FRANKENSTEIN is a completely delightful movie that sees our comedic duo embroiled in a monster story that goes very, very, very light on the horror and very, very heavy on the comedy. In truth, there are no scary moments in ACMF, though the film derives a good deal of humor from Costello being afraid of the monsters that he keeps happening to see and Abbott keeps happening not to see.

Chick Young (Abbott) and Wilbur Smith (Costello) are working as baggage clerks and they get a frantic phone call from London; Larry Talbot (Lon Chaney Jr.) calls to tell them that two packages are due to arrive for “McDougal’s House of Horrors” and that they are not to deliver those packages; before he can properly make his case, however, the full moon comes out and he turns into the Wolfman. McDougal shows up and Chick and Wilbur sign the two massive packages over to him and then deliver them to his House of Horrors.

What’s impressive about ACMF is that there’s a real story here, and Abbott and Costello use the situations presented by the story to do their comedy bits. There’s a lot of “falling package” jokes here at the beginning, as Wilbur’s romantic interest Sandra (Lenore Aubert) has a bunch of packages that tumble down on him, and then Wilbur gets on top of one of McDougal’s crates and nearly tumbles down, but the bits enhance rather than detract from the narrative.

Chick and Wilbur bring the two crates to McDougal’s House of Horrors and there’s an extended bit with Wilbur seeing Dracula (Bela Lugosi) and the Frankenstein Monster (Glenn Strange) and Chick not seeing them that’s really effectively done. The scene is humorous more than laugh-out loud funny, but it works because the chemistry between Abbott and Costello is so good that they take simple bits and get the best out of them.

The real joy in ACMF is all of the interaction between Abbott, Costello, Lugosi, and Chaney, Jr. (Glenn Strange plays Frankenstein’s Monster because Boris Karloff didn’t want in on the shenanigans.) All four of the men are total professionals, and Lugosi and Chaney Jr. blend their talents seamlessly with the two comedians.

Lugosi’s Dracula is the film’s bad guy; he’s partnered with Sandra, who’s been seducing Wilbur in order to cut out his brain and stick it in the Monster’s head. Dracula wants a Monster who’s easier to control, so they’ve selected Wilbur because, well, he’s easier to control. Dracula puts him under a couple times with his mesmerizing eyes superpower. There’s a running gag where Chick can’t believe that beautiful women like Sandra first, and Joan (Jane Randolph) second prefer Wilbur’s company to his own. Chick is insulted because he thinks the women find Wilbur more appealing, but really it’s because the two women think they can manipulate him into getting what they want easier than they could with Chick.

Lugosi is a total pro, giving everything in every scene; his charisma is so strong that he almost doesn’t need his powers to hypnotize people into doing what he wants.

Chaney gets to be the voice of concern in the film, and he displays a real somber earnestness as Larry Talbot, whose constantly trying to stop Dracula from using the Monster. Wilbur semi-believes him and Chick doesn’t believe him at all, but when Chick’s eyes are opened at a costume ball, he’s all in. Wilbur and Joan are hypnotized and captured, and Chick and Talbot work together to get them back.

The final act sees all of our players embroiled in the big climax. It’s a really wonderfully conceived and executed sequence by director Charles Barton. There’s plenty of deaths: Sandra is killed by the Monster, and when Dracula turns into a bat, the Wolf Man snares him and they both tumble to their deaths in the rocky water below. Chick and Wilbur flee in a boat, while Stevens (a scientist working for Sandra) and Joan set the pier on fire, engulfing and then apparently killing the Monster.

As Chick and Wilbur flee across the water, they hear the voice of the Invisible Man (Vincent Price), sending the two friends into the water and leaving us with the menacing sound of Vincent Price laughing.

ABBOTT AND COSTELLO MEET FRANKENSTEIN offers a whole lot of story in its 83 minutes and it never disappoints. I suppose if you want your Universal horror monsters to be scary, ACMF isn’t the film for you, but as a final act for these characters, this film is a gentle, but appropriate farewell.

YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN: Hello, Handsome

Young Frankenstein (1974) – Directed by Mel Brooks – Starring Gene Wilder, Marty Feldman, Peter Boyle, Teri Garr, Madeline Kahn, Cloris Leachman, Kenneth Mars, Richard Haydn, and Gene Hackman.

There is a quiet genius to YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN, a film that takes its time to tell a story first, and be funny second. The result is a truly remarkable movie that serves as a stunning achievement by Mel Brooks and Gene Wilder, who carry their vision through from the first frame to the last.

I’d never seen all of YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN before last night, though I’d seen most of it here and there over the years. I was still surprised by how slow the movie moved; instead of being a rapid, steady run of outlandish, shocking jokes like Brooks’ brilliant Blazing Saddles, YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN offers a much more subtle brand of humor. I found myself laughing less than I did at Blazing Saddle, but enjoying the film to a greater extent.

To be clear, I’m splitting hairs here – both films are brilliantly executed, and it’s to Brooks’ credit that he can make two cinematic masterpieces back-to-back, and display a different brand of humor in each. The restraint he shows here, letting the story play out and using the humor to punctuate the narrative rather than be the reason for the narrative, is as impressive as anything he’s ever done and my appreciation for Brooks as a filmmaker has taken a huge leap.

Gene Wilder is every bit Brooks’ equal. Comedians seem to have a much more temporary shelf life than dramatic actors; major serious actors of the ’70s – guys like Hoffman, DeNiro, Eastwood, Nicholson, Pacino, Hackman – have never faded from the public consciousness, and have never had to move to TV to ply their trade but comedians like Gene Wilder, Dan Ackroyd, and even the great Steve Martin have somehow been lost in the wash. The serious actors continually get to make their kind of movie, but when was the last time Ackroyd and Martin made THEIR kind of movie and had it reach a massive audience? Part of this is the way we, as a cinematic nation, think of comedians, and part of it is due to the nation’s shifting sense of humor. Steve Martin has adapted, carving out a career making horrible movies for people outside his core audience, but comedians simply don’t last the way dramatic actors last, and the result is that it’s extremely hard for comedians to find their rightful place in the public consciousness. Look at Will Ferrell; for a few years there, he was the funniest dude in America. Every film he dropped seemed to be a guaranteed smash, and then before you know it he’s making crap like Semi-Pro and Land of the Lost and like a cup of tea in winter, he’s almost instantly lukewarm instead of red hot.

It happens to all comedians, so it behooves us to not forget when they were great. Gene Wilder made seven or eight great movies during his run, and nowhere is he better than in YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN.

Funnier? Yes. Better? No.

Wilder plays Frederick Frankenstein, the grandson of Victor Frankenstein. Frederick is an American professor of medicine, trying to outrun the impossible: his family legacy. Insisting that his name is Fraunk-en-STEEN, he becomes exasperated by one student’s insistence on bringing up the past. Wilder plays Frankenstein with the kind of controlled professionalism that you know, even before it comes out, that there’s a simmering anger beneath that cool exterior. It’s as if he has to stay in control and emotionless in all aspects of his life, or risk his anger coming out over Victor’s actions. At the end of the lecture, an old man comes to him and informs him that he has inherited the family estate in Transylvania.

Victor heads to Europe, leaving his fiance (Madeline Kahn) behind. At the Transylvania train depot, he’s greeted by the estate’s servant Igor (Marty Feldman). Igor is perplexed by Frederick’s insistence on being called Fraunk-en-STEEN, but then insists his name is Eye-gor, not Ee-gor. It’s a clever bit because you’re unsure whether he’s doing as a reaction or because that’s actually his name. When Frankenstein tries to politely suggest that since he’s a famous surgeon, he might be able to do something about the hump on Igor’s back, Igor asks him, “What hump?” Is he being serious or sarcastic? The joy in both instances is that they work both ways because they do what they need to do by establishing that Igor might be the manservant but he’s not a simple lackey.

Frederick also meets his new female assistant Inga (Teri Garr) and the housekeeper Frau Blücher (Cloris Leachman). Blücher doesn’t have a lot to do in the movie (they use her for a few gags, including one with horses rearing up every time they hear her name), and Inga’s job is primarily to stand around, ask questions, and be gorgeous. Garr handles all three splendidly. (Honestly, between YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN and Star Trek’s “Assignment: Earth,” I think I’ve developed a late-’60s, early-’70s crush on her. She’s not just funny, but gorgeous, too.) Still, both characters help to take a little weight off of Wilder’s shoulders because this movie is placed squarely on his back. If he’s not good, the movie can’t be good.

Wilder’s fantastic, and so is the movie. What I love about his performance is how well he plays off every single other actor in the film. Often, he allows the other actors to get the laugh while he plays the straight man, and because of this he can play certain scenes completely straight and they end up being hilarious.

Take his relationship with Peter Boyle, who plays the Creature. After becoming enthralled with Victor’s work and building his own creature, Frederick is locked in the room with the sleeping Creature. When the Creature awakens, Frederick is desperate to get out, but since he ordered the others to not let him out, no matter what, they refuse to open the door. Desperate, Frederick turns on the confused, angry creature with a loud, “Hello, handsome!” The Creature is taken aback by this and Frankenstein continues to sweet talk him, eventually sitting down with him and caressing his head like he was a small child. “This is a nice boy,” he says, and you can see Frankenstein convincing himself as much as he’s convincing the Creature. “This is a good boy. This is a mother’s angel. And I want the world to know once and for all, and without any shame, that we love him. I’m going to teach you. I’m going to show you how to walk, how to speak, how to move, how to think. Together, you and I are going to make the greatest single contribution to science since the creation of fire.”

Sometimes I like to point to a given year’s Academy Award nominees to point out how stupid awards are, and while I can’t do that this time around (the 1975 noms for Best Actor were Art Carney for Harry and Tonto, Jack Nicholson for Chinatown, Dustin Hoffman for Lenny, Al Pacino for The Godfather, Part II, and Albert Finny for Murder on the Orient Express), I feel very comfortable saying that Wilder’s performance is as good as any of them.

From outside the room, Inga asks, “Fraunk-en-STEEN! Are you all right?” and when Frederick responds, we see he has completely embraced the familial legacy. “My name,” he declares loudly, “is FRANKENSTEIN!”

Infused with a new purpose, Frankenstein proves true to his word and when we next see him and the Creature, they’re performing a theatre show for the local elite. Frankenstein has trained the Creature to do a few tricks for the locals, including a song-and-dance number. The performance of Wilder and Boyle doing “Puttin’ on the Ritz” as Frankenstein and his Creature is one of the funniest scenes in movie history. Frankenstein does most of the singing and most of the dancing, letting the Creature handle the chorus, and when Boyle bellows out, “Puttin’ on the Ritz!” in the Creature’s slurred voice … as the saying goes, if you don’t find that funny, you don’t know funny.

The rest of the movie plays out the familiar plot – the Creature is captured, the Creature escapes, the Creature makes it with Frankenstein’s fiance, Frankenstein lures the Creature back by playing the violin, transfers part of his brain into the Creature, which stabilizes his brain and allows the pitch-wielding townsfolk to accept him as one of their own, and then he marries Madeline Kahn and Frankenstein marries Teri Garr. The film never loses steam and never sacrifices its narrative for a cheap laugh.

YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN is a brilliant, brilliant movie.

VAN HELSING: I Am Hollow

Van Helsing (2004) – Directed by Stephen Sommers – Starring Hugh Jackman, Kate Beckinsale, Richard Roxburgh, David Wenham, Will Kemp, Kevin J. O’Connor, and Shuler Hensley.

Seven years on and VAN HELSING still reeks of bad stew.

There’s no reason why this film shouldn’t have been a blast given the inclusion of Sommers (hot, at the time, off the first two Mummy movies), Hugh Jackman (hot, at the time, off the first X-Men movie), Kate Beckinsale (hot, at the time, because she’s always hot), Richard Roxburgh, a triumvirate of horror movie monsters (Dracula, Wolfman, Frankenstein), and an ample CGI budget, and yet the film is little more than a moderately attractive clunker with a pretty decent score by Alan Silvestri.

Why did it fail?

The most obvious problem with VAN HELSING is that it reeks of derivativeness. Right off the top there’s Hugh Jackman’s Van Helsing, who’s been crafted as a Victorian Wolverine. Van Helsing is an anti-hero, a killer working on the side of good with a mysterious past, troubled memories, and (once he gets bitten by a werewolf) an inner beast that he struggles to contain.

How’s Van Helsing different? Well, he’s got long hair. And he wears a coat. And a really stupid hat. Honestly, I’m so tired of the black duster/leather jacket look anywhere outside of a western. Hugh Jackman can’t pull it off. Nic Cage can’t pull it off. That dude on the cover of the Jim Butcher books can’t pull it off.

Just stop.

So we’ve got Victorian Wolverine running around, working for some secret religious organization housed at the Vatican and called the Knights of the Holy Been Here Seen This Already. Van Helsing walks into a confessional and a James Bond Q sequence breaks out as we watch Carl (David Wenham) show off a bunch of new weapons that makes jokes about using. It’s such a tired and played out sequence that your finger starts itching for the remote control.

Then there’s Kate Beckinsale’s Anna, who comes off as the lesbian love child of her own Selene from Underworld and Natasha from Rocky & Bullwinkle. She talks with such a ridiculous accent that Kevin Costner is jealous. “I vill talk like dis for de entire picture show, Van HELLLLsing.” Honestly, why bother with accents in a movie like this? Is anyone going to go home from watching this in the theater going, “Man, VAN HELSING was the f*cking bomb, but, geez, Kate Beckinsale couldn’t even do a Transylvanian accent? What a joke.” Dumb. Just dumb. Like so many decisions in this movie it’s just a dumb decision. No one is going to care. And if you’re worried they will? Easy. She’s part of a family that Dracula wants to eradicate. Send her to boarding school in England, for heavens-to-backstory’s sake.

I’m sure someone with money at Universal saw a team-up of Wolverine and Selene running around in a movie done by the Mummy guy as a Can’t Miss. But it misses badly.

And I think the biggest problem is Hugh Jackman’s Van Helsing.

Now, I’m not hating on the dude. I like him as an actor just fine and he’s perfect for a movie like this, but the mix of Sommers and Jackman creates a very character with a conflicted tone. At times, Van Helsing is quick with a quip, but at others he’s so overwrought and serious that you wonder if he’s embarrassed to be in a popcorn flick.

Maybe the problem lies with Sommer’s creation of the character. Maybe he didn’t want to do Brendan Fraser Redux with his main star but removing an overblown character with a somber one hurts the unbelievability of the movie. Fraser is having such a good time in The Mummy that his energy and charm propels you through the ridiculousness of certain situations. Because he’s got his tongue-planted-firmly and all that, you like him and because you like him you want to like the movie.

Jackman’s Van Helsing could offer the same charm because Jackman shows in the random scene here or there in VAN HELSING that he can bring that same lightheartedness, but the film fronts the dark and mysterious aspect of Jackman’s character in a nod towards realism and that, in turn, makes the unbelievable seem hokey as opposed to fun. Because Van Helsing isn’t having fun or taking note of the absurdity of what’s happening, when the absurd happens (such as during the horse carriage chase sequence) I just roll my eyes. (Figuratively, not literally – who actually rolls their eyes anymore? It’s a lost gesture.).

Van Helsing doesn’t look like he’s having fun. He doesn’t look like he wants to be here and if he doesn’t, then why should we care?

Thirty-four minutes into the film it’s obvious this film is not going to please. Through the first 34 minutes we’ve had four action sequences and a totally unnecessary infodump sequence (the aforementioned James Bond Q sequence). The movie opens with a nice idea – a black and white storming the castle sequence with angry villagers raiding Castle Frankenstein as the good Doctor is trying to bring his creation to life – but it never really comes together because there’s too much going on. We’ve got Dr. Frankenstein doing his thing but then Dracula shows up and Igor betrays Frankenstein and I started to instantly get the feeling that the film was just tossing anything familiar it could get its hands on up on the screen. It’s like no one involved in the production had a “2 AM Cool Idea Filter” to stop those ideas that seem good as a concept but fail in execution.

Just talk out that last paragraph. You’ve got Frankenstein doing his most famous bit but then Dracula shows up and Igor switches sides as the villagers are rioting outside … sounds perfectly cool but it doesn’t come together. It’s all played too seriously. When the scene is over we shift to color and get the title card, “One Year Later.”

What?

It took one year to go from black and white to color?

We get our intro to Van Helsing as he chases down Mister Hyde through a big fight sequence. Then it’s on to the Vatican for the Q sequence, then we jump to Transylvania where we’re introduced to Anna and her brother Velkan, and then we get a big action sequence where Anna and Van Helsing team up to fight lady vampires. It just doesn’t work.

Action, action, infodump, action, action.

Serious, quipster, quipster, serious, serious with a dash of quipster.

It’s not fun and that’s VAN HELSING’s biggest crime. Even when Jackman is quipping, he does it in a droll manner that might make you smile thin but not smile broad. There’s so much thought put into elaborate CGI action sequences and so little into what the end result of their work is going to look like on the screen that it just frustrates you. I don’t ever feel like they really know who Van Helsing is and so we get this disconnected, disjointed character that has no appeal. He’s not cool, he’s not dangerous, he’s not really tortured, and he’s simply not engaging. I don’t care what happens to him.

Richard Roxburgh is fantastic as Dracula and he actually seems to be having a good time, so we’ve got the inverse of the Mummy formula here, where the bad guy has the mega personality and the hero has the flat personality. When asked by one of his brides if he has a heart about them, he responds gleefully that, “Of course not. I have no heart. I am hollow,” in a wonderfully campy manner. Maybe if Kate Beckinsale’s Anna wasn’t also so damn dour and glum and tortured it wouldn’t seem like such a disconnect between the fun Dracula and the boring Van Helsing, but they’ve overloaded her character with such a heavy backstory that she can’t offer anything but dourness.

Is this done purposely to mirror Selene? Was there enough time between the two movies for this to be done on purpose?

The same disjointed conception of character affects Anna, too. On the one hand, we’re supposed to believe she’s this sword-wielding bad ass who can take care of herself, and yet every time she gets in danger, she starts quivering and shaking and being all afraid. Why? The most egregious affront to her character comes during the big final battle when she’s squaring off against the last remaining lady vampire (she has a name but you’ll remember her as “the redheaded one”) and she gets saved by … wait for it … Frankenstein’s creature crashing through the window.

Circumstance. F*cking circumstance.

It’s such garbage.

Even the key to victory is achieved through circumstance. People have been trying to kill Dracula for 400 years and no one can do it. Silver doesn’t work, crosses don’t work, fire doesn’t work, terminal boredom doesn’t work. So what’s the key to killing him?

You’ve got to be a werewolf to do it. And, oh, lookee there, Van Helsing got himself bit by Anna’s werewolf brother. How lame is that? How about having them figure it out and Van Helsing allowing himself to get bit?

Further showing that the film doesn’t want you to have a good time, they deliver a limp ending that sees Anna getting killed by the Van Werewolf and then a sad hero gets to literally see Anna being reunited with her family in Heaven. And by “in Heaven,” I mean the clouds in the sky.

VAN HELSING is an attractive enough looking film that it’s not a horrible watch, but it’s certainly not a very good movie. Poorly conceived characters in a poorly executed story with a decent visual look makes for an forgettable film.