When most people hear “Frankenstein”, they think of the early 1900s science fiction horror films of a corpse-built monster wreaking havoc on its creator, rather than the educated, morally ambiguous creature Mary Shelley originally penned. Nearly a century later in 2011, Nick Dear’s stage adaptation redeems the story of Frankenstein back to Mary Shelley’s vision, horror movie gaudiness traded in for a powerful emotional attachment to the drama and devastation. With suspended theatre performances due to the coronavirus, London’s National Theatre has been streaming full productions weekly, and on May 1st, released their 2011 stage production of Frankenstein with Jonny Lee Miller as the Creature and Benedict Cumberbatch as Victor Frankenstein.
Director Danny Boyle rotates Miller and Cumberbatch in their starring roles to create an extraordinary bond between actors as well as between creator and created. Every other night they swap characters, ensuring a new and unique performance as well as an unforeseen connection between the characters so they truly understand the other’s motives and emotions in every scene. Boyle carefully balances abstract scenes of raw emotion with the action-packed scenes of rich dialogue.
Instead of skipping past the messiness of birth and consequent discovery of the body with no maternal guidance, we take our first steps alongside the creature and watch Miller’s raw and immersive full-body performance as the Creature discovers the state of life and learns of warmth and icy cruelty. The powerful contrast in the first ten minutes set the tone for the rest of the production — child-like innocence and optimism are declared naive and foolish by rude awakenings that reveal the harsh realities of an appearance-driven society.
In an early scene, bright lights glow behind a thin warm-colored film, swelling like the morning sun rising with birds chirping and a youthful choir singing joyously (“Dawn of Eden” by Underworld). This spectacle paired with the Creature’s bursting hollers of inarticulate joy is magnificent, capturing all the potential of our beautiful world. This spark of life in the Creature’s heart remains his source of hope for a perfect utopia as he learns about poetry and art and dreams of being a part of it, knowing he never can be because of humanity’s superficiality and quick judgment upon his appearance.
As the Creature later concludes, his superpower is “assimilation”, having carefully studied man and learned how to ruin, to hate, to debase, to humiliate, and, “at the feet of my master I learnt the highest of human skills, the skill no other creature owns: I finally learnt how to lie.” Frankenstein is profound and heart-wrenching, finding empathy for the Creature in moral gray areas. There is fervent attentiveness and emotion from each character, but with conflicting, antagonistic intentions. It is impossible not to sympathize with the Creature seeing his painful origins and experiences and Miller’s intensity in his vindictive responses. Even through the final scene, we see the internal struggle of his deep-seated disappointment and need for revenge against his child-like nature that just desperately wanted to be loved by his creator.
Special effects and technical detail compose a full sensory experience without ever crossing the line of being too flashy or grotesque, something too often abused in horror productions. Instead, the sets, lights, and sounds add to the tension but let the story itself drive the suspense. Creative light cues include a ceiling installation of lightbulbs that ripple and flash in sweeping expanses. The rotating stage tilts certain scenes, demonstrating its incredible versatility and expressiveness while still minimal. The rails on the ground feature a human steam engine train, a strip of grass in the rain, and the lines to carry Frankenstein’s sled into the glow of eternity.
The immaculate prose in Mary Shelley’s 200-year-old text carries over beautifully to the dialogue in Nick Dear’s script, revitalizing Shelley’s poetic discussions about humanity and the dark commentary on the human condition. It expands beyond the judgment about whether or not the initial catalyst was moral into more broadly, how we should view and treat one another. This story has significant value for everyone and deserves its recognition after 200 years and many more to come.