Editorials
A New World of Gods and Monsters: The Long and Winding Road to ‘Bride of Frankenstein’
Bride of Frankenstein (1935) is among the most iconic films ever made and arguably the greatest horror sequel of all time. Its images are indelible from the Monster’s encounter with the hermit in the woods, to Dr. Pretorius’s little creations in jars, to the Bride’s lightning-streaked Nefertiti hairdo.
It seeks to outdo the first film and succeeds in practically every way, continuing and deepening the story and themes from the first film while infusing itself with humor, subtext, and pathos rarely seen in horror before. But Bride of Frankenstein was, more than once, nearly a very different creature altogether.
Talk of a sequel began almost immediately, thanks to a triumphant preview screening of Frankenstein in October of 1931. The cut shown at this preview ended with the shot of the burning windmill surrounded by villagers, and both the Monster and Henry Frankenstein were presumed dead. The audience response was so positive that an additional scene was shot featuring old Baron Frankenstein making a toast with a group of servants while his son, with Elizabeth at his bedside, convalesces in the background. After the film was a huge box-office success, the fires of sequel ambition only burned hotter.
Unfortunately for Universal, director James Whale had no interest, saying, “I squeezed the idea dry on the original picture and never want to work on it again.” Perhaps hoping to return to the graces of Universal and its production head Carl Laemmle, Jr., Robert Florey wrote a treatment soon after the release of Frankenstein called “The New Adventures of Frankenstein—The Monster Lives!” Florey had been the original director of the 1931 film before being reassigned to Murders in the Rue Morgue (1932) after a debacle over test footage he shot with Bela Lugosi as the Monster.
His short treatment was politely read, rejected, and returned to him in February of 1932. Murders in the Rue Morgue was released soon after and flopped, leading to Florey’s dismissal from Universal. Beyond its title, which sounds more like an Errol Flynn swashbuckler than a horror movie, little is known of this treatment, and it is presumed lost to time along with his notorious test footage for Frankenstein.
The Return of Frankenstein
In mid-1933, Tom Reed, a staff writer and scenarist for Universal, turned in a fifty-one-page treatment called “The Return of Frankenstein” that he subsequently expanded into a screenplay. This version of the story includes several elements that made it to the final film, including beginning at the burning windmill, a female creature, and a version of the hermit sequence, the latter two aspects found in Mary Shelley’s original novel. The treatment also includes Victor Moritz, played by John Boles in the original film, who has a girlfriend named Karen, who also happens to be Elizabeth’s sister.
This is quite a departure from Frankenstein, as Victor clearly has feelings for Elizabeth in the film. Reed’s story also takes place over a greater span of time, as Henry and Elizabeth have gotten married partway through the treatment and have a two-year-old child. The Monster, who encounters Henry by chance, demands that Frankenstein create a female companion for him, but Henry fails. The Monster, in turn, kills Elizabeth to be brought back as his mate, but in the end, he, along with Henry, dies by electrocution, and Victor and Karen take the responsibility of raising the now orphaned child.
The screenplay was approved by Universal and the Production Code Administration. The studio officially announced The Return of Frankenstein in September 1933 with Kurt Neumann attached to direct. Then, in November, the James Whale-helmed The Invisible Man was released to great success, and Junior knew he wanted the director for The Return of Frankenstein. But Whale was still not very interested and absolutely hated the script, telling friends, “They’ve had a script made for a sequel, and it stinks to heaven.”
Verging on desperate to bring Whale on board, Junior dangled several carrots in front of him, including offering Whale a project he wanted called One More River, total creative control of the new Frankenstein film, and, of course, more money. Two new treatments were also ordered for The Return of Frankenstein that ran very far afield of what was eventually filmed while Whale busied himself with directing One More River (1934).
The first of these treatments, delivered in December 1933 by Philip MacDonald, involves the Monster being revived by the Delta Ray, a death ray invented by Dr. Frankenstein that he intends to sell to the League of Nations. Quite some time has passed since the Monster perished in the windmill, and Henry and Elizabeth have a young son. Victor also returns in this version and declares his love for Elizabeth as she lies in a hospital bed after falling ill. Ultimately, both creator and creation die by death ray, and Elizabeth and Victor end up together.
Another treatment written in late 1933 or early 1934 by L.G. Blochman sees Henry and Elizabeth join a traveling carnival (as puppeteers, no less) to hide out from the Monster who has awakened and begun terrorizing the countryside. Eventually, the Monster finds them and demands that Frankenstein create a mate for him. He does, but the companion does not survive, sending the Monster into a frenzy. In the midst of the havoc he wreaks on the carnival, the Monster is attacked and torn apart by lions. This version differs further in its description of the Monster, which is in no way sympathetic in the treatment, and has more animalistic qualities, including fangs.
James Whale Returns to Direct
After finishing One More River, Whale knew he could no longer avoid the Frankenstein sequel and, unsatisfied with the various treatments and scripts, called upon John L. Balderston to start from scratch. Balderston was a key player in the early Universal monster movies, having adapted the British plays of Dracula and Frankenstein for American audiences, upon which the scripts of the film versions were based, and writing The Mummy (1932) as an original script. By all accounts, Whale had total control over every aspect of what was then still called The Return of Frankenstein and worked with Balderston in shaping the script through four drafts, the last of which was submitted to the Production Code office, where PCA head Joseph I. Breen demanded several changes.
Feeling Balderston was burnt out on the project, Whale passed the script to other writers, including R.C. Sherriff, who had adapted The Invisible Man, William Hurlbut, and Edmund Pearson. According to James Whale’s biographer James Curtis, the final result of this work was mostly an amalgamation of the various Balderston drafts with some polish along the way. In the end, only Balderston and Hurlbut received credit for adaptation, and Hurlbut for screenplay.
With PCA approval of the script, the cast was assembled, including returning leads Colin Clive and Boris Karloff, who had become horror’s biggest star in the years since the release of the original film. He also seems to have become very protective of the role that made him famous and objected to the Monster speaking, indulging in everyday vices like drinking and smoking, and infusing the proceedings with so much humor. Despite his objections, Karloff gave arguably his best performance as the Monster when cameras began rolling in early 1935.
Also joining the cast were Whale favorites Una O’Connor in the comedic role of Minnie, Elsa Lanchester in the dual roles of Mary Shelley and the Bride, and Ernest Thesiger as the film’s new villain, Dr. Pretorius. Claude Rains was originally set to play this role, but was moved to The Mystery of Edwin Drood (1935), and Thesiger was cast in his most memorable role.
Notably missing are John Boles, whose Victor Moritz character was written out of the sequel, and Mae Clarke as Elizabeth. Clarke had worked with Whale in Waterloo Bridge (1931) before reaching icon status when James Cagney shoved a grapefruit in her face in The Public Enemy (1931). But due to very public mental struggles and physical ailments, including injuries sustained in a car accident, Clarke was not asked to return for Bride. She was heartbroken but continued her career in small roles in film and later on television before leaving the industry for good in the early 1970s. Universal ingenue Valerie Hobson stepped into the role of Elizabeth and took the character in a very different direction from Clarke.
The Bride of Frankenstein Walks Down the Aisle in the Greatest Horror Sequel
Proving his total control over the production, Whale shut down filming for ten days when there was nothing else left to shoot to wait for actor O.P. Heggie to finish his commitment on a film at RKO to play the Hermit. After he became available and the iconic scene between Heggie and Karloff was finally in the can, production wrapped on March 7, 1935, ten days over schedule and a little more than $100,000 over budget. Slated for an April 19th release, postproduction began immediately and furiously, including recording Franz Waxman’s score in just one nine-hour session.
The first cut of Bride of Frankenstein, a title Whale insisted upon over The Return of Frankenstein, clocked in at 90 minutes, but naturally, the Hays Office demanded cuts, especially to the film’s violence. Whale acquiesced on at least one aspect, agreeing to cut a sequence involving Dwight Frye’s character Karl in which he kills his uncle and blames it on the Monster. Whale made several more cuts of his own accord, including a comedic scene with the Burgomaster and lines of dialogue to quicken the pace.
Days before the film’s premiere, Whale changed the ending as well. In the preview cut, Henry and Elizabeth perished along with Pretorius, the Monster, and the Bride, but it apparently did not feel right to Whale. He brought Karloff, Clive, and Hobson back for an additional day of shooting to make the change and give the film a partial happy ending. The film was a rousing success, and even the critical notices were positive, though often offered with a caveat along the lines of “great—for this type of film,” reiterating the lack of respect afforded the horror genre in certain critical circles.
To characterize Bride of Frankenstein as a success is an understatement. It is a towering achievement that redefined the horror genre and entered the cultural lexicon in a way that few films have. That it is not only still watched but endlessly discussed, analyzed, homaged, remade, merchandised, and affectionately parodied over 90 years after its release is a remarkable rarity in our era of “here today, forgotten tomorrow” content-based media.
Though a film like Bride feels inevitable as we have lived with it for so long, it is helpful to remember the blood, sweat, and tears that go into creating great art. Though Bride of Frankenstein travelled a long and winding road, or aisle as it may be, after over 90 years, she remains Queen of the Monsters.
Long may she reign.
After fifty years of continuous writing, Stephen King has become a genre unto himself.
The unrivaled Master of Horror made a splash in 1974 with his debut novel Carrie and has been terrifying readers ever since. Two years later, Brian De Palma brought this shocking story to the screen with an equally electrifying horror film that remains a genre classic and a prototypical example of “Good For Her” horror. This dual debut seemed to open the floodgates, unleashing endless waves of Stephen King films.
From the highs of Misery, Cujo, and The Shawshank Redemption to the schlocky fun of Cat’s Eye, Creepshow, and Children of the Corn, the last five decades have seen just about every notable horror creator take a stab at the author’s massive collection.
In recent years, this singular subgenre has begun to burst at the seams, expanding to include Stephen King-esque fare. In 2016, brothers Matt and Ross Duffer debuted Stranger Things, a sci-fi series heavily inspired by two of King’s most famous books. The Netflix series remixes Firestarter and It by following a little girl with psychic powers and an intrepid group of kids on bikes who must battle an otherworldly foe and a sinister government agency. With its clever blend of modern effects and comforting nostalgia, this gateway horror series paved the way for Andy Muschietti’s It adaptation which remains the highest grossing horror film of all time.
Four years later, Mike Flanagan would create Midnight Mass, a spiritual adaptation of King’s second novel Salem’s Lot. Published in 1975, the book sees a tiny New England town torn apart by a centuries-old vampire. Though Flanagan’s story is perhaps more tender, both iterations of the classic horror tale follow close-knit communities shaken to their core by the presence of an ancient evil.
In addition to these recent hits, 2025 was a banner year for the Master of Horror. Audiences delighted in six mainstream adaptations, including the massively popular It: Welcome to Derry which chronicles earlier cycles of the titular clown’s reign. With this boost to King’s cultural cache, it’s no surprise that we’ve begun to see more unofficial adaptations of the author’s work and horror creators who build their own unique castles in King’s creative sandbox.
So what defines a Stephen King-esque story?
For the past fifty years, the prolific author has dipped his toes in nearly every subgenre from supernatural stories and grisly gore to western fantasy and science fiction. Including his vast catalogue of short fiction, King has tackled ghosts, demons, werewolves, zombies, aliens, mutants, and self-driving cars, not to mention bizarre monsters of his own creation. But what truly unites this vast array of horror is King’s focus on relatable characters. In his 2000 memoir/instructional text On Writing, the prolific author describes the amusement he finds in writing disparate characters, placing them in horrific scenarios, then exploring the ways they try to survive.
An unofficial Stephen King adaptation may take place in the author’s native New England — bonus points if it’s set in Maine — and reference his well-known heroes and villains. But what makes the King connection unbreakable is a character-driven story about average people who band together in the face of abject terror.
Weapons Captures Small Town Stephen King
Following his 2022 shocker Barbarian, Zach Cregger returned with Weapons, a sprawling story that begins in a doomed elementary school. On an otherwise ordinary day, Justine (Julia Garner) arrives at her desk to find that all but one of her students have disappeared. As the mystery grows increasingly violent, Justine and Archer (Josh Brolin), the father of a missing boy, find their way to the home of Alex (Cary Christopher), the class’ only surviving student. In some ways reminiscent of Salem’s Lot, Weapons swings wildly through the unfortunate town, introducing us to its flawed inhabitants as we watch their lives fall apart.
Cregger’s setup nods to a pair of King short stories. Both “Suffer the Little Children” and “Here There Be Tygers” tackle monstrous presences in elementary schools, but as Weapons reaches its final act, Constant Readers may remember another Stephen King tale. Featured in his 1985 collection Skeleton Crew, “Gramma” introduces us to George, a little boy tormented by an aging witch. On an afternoon alone with his sickly grandmother, the frightened child gradually realizes that the imposing old woman has been waiting for an opportunity to cast a spell that will extend her own life by possessing his body.
Alex finds himself similarly tortured by his aunt Gladys (Amy Madigan), a garish witch who orchestrates a desperate plot to sustain her own strength. Transforming humans into mindless weapons, Gladys has taken over Alex’s family home and lured his classmates to the basement. Holding them in a comatose state, she syphons off their energy to extend her own supernatural life.
Vastly different in many ways, both “Gramma” and Weapons hinge on a sinister witch who uses horrific magical spells to sacrifice the bodies of her vulnerable prey.
Hokum Echoes The Shining and 1408
It’s nearly impossible to watch a film about a haunted hotel without thinking of King’s third novel, The Shining. This icy story follows Jack Torrance, an angry writer struggling with his sobriety and a shameful incident haunting his past. Accompanied by his wife and young son, Jack has taken a job as the winter caretaker for the Overlook, a haunted hotel situated high in the Rocky Mountains. Snowed in, Jack finds himself tormented by dangerous ghosts who amplify his greatest fears.
Damian McCarthy’s Hokum follows a similarly troubled figure. Ohm Bauman (Adam Scott) is a surly writer who travels to the Bilberry Woods Hotel in rural Ireland to spread his parents’ ashes. Haunted by his own tragic past, Ohm finds himself trapped in the honeymoon suite, a decaying room that’s been permanently closed to protect visitors from a dangerous witch trapped within its walls. Visual nods to King’s text abound with woodcut figurines and an animated clock, mirroring ominous descriptions found in King’s text.
Another terrifying sequence sees Ohm staring with horror at a closed door, the only thing separating him from the approaching witch. As the door knob slowly turns, Constant Readers remember Jack’s narrow escape from the ghostly woman in room 217. And Ohm’s popular Conquistador books directly reference King’s long-running fantasy series The Dark Tower which follows a gunslinger named Roland Deschain tasked with protecting the nexus of the universe.
In addition to these thematic comparisons, Hokum bears striking resemblance to King’s terrifying short story “1408.” Collected in 2002’s Everything’s Eventual, the terrifying story follows Mike Enslin, a dejected writer who’s risen to fame penning essays about his adventures in haunted locations. Mike arrives at the Hotel Dolphin and bullies his way into the titular room, despite the manager’s dire warnings. McCarthy nods to this story with an ominously misplaced hotel room door, reminiscent of King’s entry to 1408, an unsuspecting portal that appears to move each time Mike looks away.
However, McCarthy’s most direct reference lies in a minicorder Ohm uses to capture notes. Trapped inside the dreaded honeymoon suite, this device offers well-timed messages while sitting next to a decomposing corpse. Mike records his time in 1408 with his own trusty minicorder. Described for the reader, his tape has captured the man’s slow descent into madness as the room prepares to swallow him whole. With conclusions that differ wildly in tone, both Ohm and Mike find their lives irrevocably changed by encounters with the supernatural realm.
Widow’s Bay Builds Its Own Version of Castle Rock
Katie Dippold’s Widow’s Bay has taken the idea of an unofficial King adaptation and turned it into an art form. The Apple TV series sees the residents of the titular island plagued by a curse that dates back centuries. Not only does the picturesque hamlet not accommodate wifi connections, those born on the island face certain death should they ever try to leave. Desperate to modernize the tiny town, Mayor Tom Loftis (Matthew Rhys) draws in waves of tourists just as a new cycle of terror begins.
Blending horror with deft comedy, Dippold makes cheeky references to King’s body of work. Tom warns that, “there’s something in the fog,” reminding readers of King’s 1980 novella The Mist. And Loftis’ own stay in the town’s haunted hotel sees him tormented by the ghost of a murderous clown. We even spy a vintage King hardback peeking out of a local book trade box.
In many ways Widow’s Bay feels like a new iteration of the author’s Little Tall Island, a tiny village off the coast of Maine. In addition to the 1992 novel Dolores Claiborne and a handful of harrowing short stories, this quaint fishing village is also the setting for King’s 1999 teleplay Storm of the Century. Premiering on ABC primetime, this tragic tale follows a terrified group of islanders who batten down the hatches for a dangerous Nor’easter only to find a more sinister threat lurking within.
Constant Readers may also be reminded of Castle Rock, the author’s favorite fictional town.
First introduced in the 1981 novel Cujo, the charming village becomes the star of Needful Things, King’s satire about consumerism. After several Castle Rock stories, we’re reintroduced to its residents as they gossip about the arrival of Leland Gaunt and the grand opening of his curio shop. Anything their hearts desire can be found in his varied inventory, so long as they’re willing to pay the price. Pitting cantankerous neighbors against each other, Gaunt ignites a wave of grisly violence by exploiting long-held resentments and feuds.
The town’s only defense against this supernatural threat is beleaguered sheriff Alan Pangborn. Still grieving the deaths of his wife and younger son, Alan struggles to connect with his older child and pick up the pieces of his shattered life. Also a widower, Loftis struggles to raise his own restless son and explain the strange details of his wife’s tragic death. Attempting to unravel the island’s dark secrets, Tom is aided by quirky residents including a surly fisherman named Wyck (Stephen Root) and Patricia (Kate O’Flynn), an earnest Town Hall employee. King’s own novels feature many of these proactive alliances with disparate characters combining their strengths to overcome insurmountable odds.
With Widow’s Bay renewed for a second season and Mike Flanagan’s Carrie series on the horizon, the future seems bright for new King adaptations, both spiritual and directly pulled from his catalogue. The prolific author also shows no signs of slowing down with two publications nearing release. His upcoming novel, Other Worlds Than These, is the long-awaited third Talisman book which teases direct ties to his Dark Tower world. Holly Forever will be a new installment of his crime series, offering a different kind of genre fare.
This embarrassment of riches spawning multiple worlds seems ripe for spiritual adaptation and will likely inspire horror creators for decades to come.
Kate O’Flynn, Stephen Root and Matthew Rhys in “Widow’s Bay,” now streaming on Apple TV.
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