Frankenstein Created Woman


1h 32m 1967
Frankenstein Created Woman

Brief Synopsis

Baron Frankenstein puts a wrongly executed man's brain into a beautiful woman's body.

Film Details

Genre
Horror
Period
Release Date
Mar 1967
Premiere Information
not available
Production Company
Hammer Film Productions, Ltd.; Seven Arts Productions
Distribution Company
Twentieth Century--Fox Film Corp.
Country
United Kingdom

Technical Specs

Duration
1h 32m
Sound
Mono
Color
Color (DeLuxe)

Synopsis

In a 19th-century Balkan village Baron Frankenstein and Dr. Hertz conduct scientific experiments in an endeavor to transfer the souls of dead humans into other bodies. Their assistant Hans is a local boy ostracized by the villagers because his father was guillotined for murder years earlier. One night, while visiting his girl friend, Christina, a cripple with a birthmark on her otherwise pretty face, Hans is unjustly accused of murdering an innkeeper and is sentenced to the same fate that befell his father. Christina witnesses the execution of her beloved and, overcome by despair, drowns herself in a river. Frankenstein and Dr. Hertz recover both corpses and succeed in bringing Christina back to life with no sign of either her lameness or her facial blemish. And, as part of the experiment, they give her Hans's soul. As a result, the young woman is consumed with Hans's passion for revenge, and she sets out to kill the three youths responsible for the innkeeper's death. Frankenstein is unable to prevent Christina from slaying her three victims and taking her own life.

Film Details

Genre
Horror
Period
Release Date
Mar 1967
Premiere Information
not available
Production Company
Hammer Film Productions, Ltd.; Seven Arts Productions
Distribution Company
Twentieth Century--Fox Film Corp.
Country
United Kingdom

Technical Specs

Duration
1h 32m
Sound
Mono
Color
Color (DeLuxe)

Articles

Frankenstein Created Woman on Blu-ray


When British production studio Hammer Films first found success reviving the classic movie monsters with remakes of Universal horror films of the thirties in full, blood-dripping color and lurid Gothic style, they tried their hand at every iconic horror classic they could, but they found their biggest successes minting sequels to The Curse of Frankenstein (1957) and The Horror of Dracula (1958). The Dracula films turned into a curious mix of spin-offs, sequels, and modernized updates, with guest bloodsuckers filling in for Dracula until Lee returned to title role. The Frankenstein movies, however, became a more connected cycle of films, variations on a theme centered not on the creature (as in the Universal films) but on Baron Frankenstein, played by Peter Cushing in all but one of the films. They followed a chronology (with minor exceptions) that charted the Baron's monomaniacal obsession to create life at any cost and Peter Cushing defined him as a ruthlessly ambitious man of science, a pitiless rationalist ready to sacrifice human life in the name of scientific discovery. He was, in an odd way, both hero and villain of the series, and a very different portrait of the scientist than presented in either the novel or the iconic 1931 film.

The 1967 Frankenstein Created Woman, Hammer's fourth Frankenstein film, is a loose sequel that finds the Baron in residence at a generic Bavarian village with a new assistant, Dr. Hertz (Thorley Walters), an old, amiably befuddled, apple-cheeked country doctor, and a whole new plan of attack. Instead of the familiar surgical patchwork bodies cobbled together from unwitting organ (and body) donors and reanimated with electricity, he takes a more metaphysical approach this time. His initial experiments are performed on himself and he puts his efforts into created a force field that will isolate and preserve the disembodied soul of the recently deceased for transfer to a new host. The previous films aren't directly referenced but the Baron's hands are too crippled for fine surgery, a nod the fiery finish of The Evil of Frankenstein (1964), the previous chapter in the saga. Dr. Hertz serves as his hands, guided by Frankenstein's experience and intellect.

Hammer's top director Terence Fisher returns to the franchise for this film (Freddie Francis directed The Evil of Frankenstein) and begins the film in the shadow of death: a guillotine looming starkly over the film against a gray sky on a bare hill, a condemned man carted to his doom, a young boy watching the man--his father--beheaded despite the man's pained entreaties to leave. Years later, the boy has grown into Hans (Robert Morris), an assistant to Baron Frankenstein, and remains haunted by the guillotine, which still stands like a threat to all who pass by. Hans loves Christina (Susan Denberg), the crippled daughter of the local tavern keeper and the target of abuse from a trio of cocky, bullying rich young dandies, and his temper gets him into trouble he seems fated to suffer: framed for murder and sentenced to death by guillotine thanks threats he made in anger while defending her honor. Fisher makes effective use of that ominous guillotine; every fall of the blade reverberates with more deaths.

This Baron isn't the same sociopath of The Revenge of Frankenstein and The Evil of Frankenstein and he even has a grudging affection for Hertz and Hans, but he is as arrogant as ever, with no time for the superstitious villagers and barely civil when called to give testimony in court. His character is quite evocatively captured in his behavior at Hans' trial, flipping through the pages of the Bible as one might peruse a gossip magazine in a hospital waiting room, raising an eyebrow with skeptical bemusement and then dismissing it indifferently. The deaths of Hans and Christina, who drowns herself in grief, give him the raw materials to execute his experiment and soon he has dropped the soul (a glowing white sphere) harvested from the fresh but headless corpse of Hans (according to Frankenstein's research, the soul sticks around for an hour or so after bodily death) into the body of Christina, which he and Hertz repair and bring back to life. But while she has no conscious memory of either past life, the ghost of Hans emerges and the Baron's lack of empathy for his own patient causes him to miss the schizophrenic war of wills within the amnesiac girl.

This is a budget-minded production made at the newly-acquired Bray Studios, limited to just a few small sets and locations. It feels smaller and more constrained than the earlier Frankenstein productions, with less gore and grotesque imagery (though Fisher does make effective use of one particular severed head), and it doesn't even deliver a monster in the expected sense, turning to the lurid and the lascivious for its production value. The cover to the Blu-ray shows a very fit looking Denberg, a German-born actress whose credentials include Playboy's Playmate of the Month in August, 1966 and playing one of "Mudd's Women" in the original Star Trek, in a kind of bandage-wrap bikini. These are from a series of titillating publicity stills and are nowhere to be seen in the film, where she is more traditionally clothed. However, her low-cut peasant blouses do show off her d├ęcolletage in the scenes where she uses her wiles to lure her victims--the three blades who framed Hans for murder--to their untimely deaths.

Frankenstein Created Woman plays less like a classic Frankenstein tale than a ghost story or possession horror, with the dead driving the living to carrying out his vengeance. While the script (credited to John Elder, the pseudonym of Hammer producer Anthony Hinds) never really explores the internal conflict of the male essence within the female body or mine the potential of the two lovers sharing the same body, it does offer a disturbing kind of relationship between the two identities that borders on overlord and devoted apostle. And there is something perverse in Denberg's transformation from innocent maiden to seductive beauty to possessed killer speaking with the voice of a dead man.

Frankenstein Created Woman was edited to 86 minutes in Britain but the U.S. version features footage cut by British censors and runs 92 minutes. This edition features the longer cut. The case lists the aspect ratio at 2.35:1 but it is not actually a widescreen production. It was shot to be projected at the more modest 1.66:1 (protected for 1.85:1 in the U.S.) and the disc takes the standard 1.77:1 compromise of modern 16x9 widescreen TVs and it looks correct and well balanced. This edition features the same HD restoration produced for the Studio Canal Blu-ray release in Great Britain. The color is muted by design and the print is fine.

It features new commentary by co-stars Derek Fowlds and Robert Morris (who remark that they may be the last living members of the cast) and film historian Jonathan Rigby, who plays host and provides all the historical detail and background while the stars fill in with their stories and remembrances. Morris informs us that Susan Denberg's accent was so heavy that she was dubbed on post-production. Also new to this edition is the 45-minute documentary "Hammer Glamour," featuring new interviews with Valerie Leon, Caroline Munro, Martine Beswicke, Madeline Smith, Vera Day and Jenny Hanley and clips from dozens of Hammer films that show the increasing sexuality of Hammer films. The disc is filled out with two episodes of the 1994 House of Hammer series ("The Curse of Frankenstein" and "Hammer Stars: Peter Cushing," both narrated by Oliver Reed), a gallery of stills and the original trailer.

By Sean Axmaker
Frankenstein Created Woman On Blu-Ray

Frankenstein Created Woman on Blu-ray

When British production studio Hammer Films first found success reviving the classic movie monsters with remakes of Universal horror films of the thirties in full, blood-dripping color and lurid Gothic style, they tried their hand at every iconic horror classic they could, but they found their biggest successes minting sequels to The Curse of Frankenstein (1957) and The Horror of Dracula (1958). The Dracula films turned into a curious mix of spin-offs, sequels, and modernized updates, with guest bloodsuckers filling in for Dracula until Lee returned to title role. The Frankenstein movies, however, became a more connected cycle of films, variations on a theme centered not on the creature (as in the Universal films) but on Baron Frankenstein, played by Peter Cushing in all but one of the films. They followed a chronology (with minor exceptions) that charted the Baron's monomaniacal obsession to create life at any cost and Peter Cushing defined him as a ruthlessly ambitious man of science, a pitiless rationalist ready to sacrifice human life in the name of scientific discovery. He was, in an odd way, both hero and villain of the series, and a very different portrait of the scientist than presented in either the novel or the iconic 1931 film. The 1967 Frankenstein Created Woman, Hammer's fourth Frankenstein film, is a loose sequel that finds the Baron in residence at a generic Bavarian village with a new assistant, Dr. Hertz (Thorley Walters), an old, amiably befuddled, apple-cheeked country doctor, and a whole new plan of attack. Instead of the familiar surgical patchwork bodies cobbled together from unwitting organ (and body) donors and reanimated with electricity, he takes a more metaphysical approach this time. His initial experiments are performed on himself and he puts his efforts into created a force field that will isolate and preserve the disembodied soul of the recently deceased for transfer to a new host. The previous films aren't directly referenced but the Baron's hands are too crippled for fine surgery, a nod the fiery finish of The Evil of Frankenstein (1964), the previous chapter in the saga. Dr. Hertz serves as his hands, guided by Frankenstein's experience and intellect. Hammer's top director Terence Fisher returns to the franchise for this film (Freddie Francis directed The Evil of Frankenstein) and begins the film in the shadow of death: a guillotine looming starkly over the film against a gray sky on a bare hill, a condemned man carted to his doom, a young boy watching the man--his father--beheaded despite the man's pained entreaties to leave. Years later, the boy has grown into Hans (Robert Morris), an assistant to Baron Frankenstein, and remains haunted by the guillotine, which still stands like a threat to all who pass by. Hans loves Christina (Susan Denberg), the crippled daughter of the local tavern keeper and the target of abuse from a trio of cocky, bullying rich young dandies, and his temper gets him into trouble he seems fated to suffer: framed for murder and sentenced to death by guillotine thanks threats he made in anger while defending her honor. Fisher makes effective use of that ominous guillotine; every fall of the blade reverberates with more deaths. This Baron isn't the same sociopath of The Revenge of Frankenstein and The Evil of Frankenstein and he even has a grudging affection for Hertz and Hans, but he is as arrogant as ever, with no time for the superstitious villagers and barely civil when called to give testimony in court. His character is quite evocatively captured in his behavior at Hans' trial, flipping through the pages of the Bible as one might peruse a gossip magazine in a hospital waiting room, raising an eyebrow with skeptical bemusement and then dismissing it indifferently. The deaths of Hans and Christina, who drowns herself in grief, give him the raw materials to execute his experiment and soon he has dropped the soul (a glowing white sphere) harvested from the fresh but headless corpse of Hans (according to Frankenstein's research, the soul sticks around for an hour or so after bodily death) into the body of Christina, which he and Hertz repair and bring back to life. But while she has no conscious memory of either past life, the ghost of Hans emerges and the Baron's lack of empathy for his own patient causes him to miss the schizophrenic war of wills within the amnesiac girl. This is a budget-minded production made at the newly-acquired Bray Studios, limited to just a few small sets and locations. It feels smaller and more constrained than the earlier Frankenstein productions, with less gore and grotesque imagery (though Fisher does make effective use of one particular severed head), and it doesn't even deliver a monster in the expected sense, turning to the lurid and the lascivious for its production value. The cover to the Blu-ray shows a very fit looking Denberg, a German-born actress whose credentials include Playboy's Playmate of the Month in August, 1966 and playing one of "Mudd's Women" in the original Star Trek, in a kind of bandage-wrap bikini. These are from a series of titillating publicity stills and are nowhere to be seen in the film, where she is more traditionally clothed. However, her low-cut peasant blouses do show off her d├ęcolletage in the scenes where she uses her wiles to lure her victims--the three blades who framed Hans for murder--to their untimely deaths. Frankenstein Created Woman plays less like a classic Frankenstein tale than a ghost story or possession horror, with the dead driving the living to carrying out his vengeance. While the script (credited to John Elder, the pseudonym of Hammer producer Anthony Hinds) never really explores the internal conflict of the male essence within the female body or mine the potential of the two lovers sharing the same body, it does offer a disturbing kind of relationship between the two identities that borders on overlord and devoted apostle. And there is something perverse in Denberg's transformation from innocent maiden to seductive beauty to possessed killer speaking with the voice of a dead man. Frankenstein Created Woman was edited to 86 minutes in Britain but the U.S. version features footage cut by British censors and runs 92 minutes. This edition features the longer cut. The case lists the aspect ratio at 2.35:1 but it is not actually a widescreen production. It was shot to be projected at the more modest 1.66:1 (protected for 1.85:1 in the U.S.) and the disc takes the standard 1.77:1 compromise of modern 16x9 widescreen TVs and it looks correct and well balanced. This edition features the same HD restoration produced for the Studio Canal Blu-ray release in Great Britain. The color is muted by design and the print is fine. It features new commentary by co-stars Derek Fowlds and Robert Morris (who remark that they may be the last living members of the cast) and film historian Jonathan Rigby, who plays host and provides all the historical detail and background while the stars fill in with their stories and remembrances. Morris informs us that Susan Denberg's accent was so heavy that she was dubbed on post-production. Also new to this edition is the 45-minute documentary "Hammer Glamour," featuring new interviews with Valerie Leon, Caroline Munro, Martine Beswicke, Madeline Smith, Vera Day and Jenny Hanley and clips from dozens of Hammer films that show the increasing sexuality of Hammer films. The disc is filled out with two episodes of the 1994 House of Hammer series ("The Curse of Frankenstein" and "Hammer Stars: Peter Cushing," both narrated by Oliver Reed), a gallery of stills and the original trailer. By Sean Axmaker

Frankenstein Created Woman


Hans (Robert Morris) is a young man accused of murder. The only "evidence" against him is the fact that his father was executed for a similar crime, but in the parochial imaginations of this ill-identified European backwater it can be reasonably assumed "like father like son." Hans has an alibi, but it's problematic and he doesn't want to say it aloud: on the night in question, he was in bed with the dead man's disfigured daughter Christina (Susan Denberg), whom he had just rescued from cruel torment at the hands of some rich wastrels. Those bullies are in fact the real killers, but their reputations will remain unsullied while this innocent boy is punished in their place.

It may seem confusing, but hold on, it's about to get much more complicated. Baron Frankenstein (Peter Cushing) sees this monstrous injustice as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. All he has to do is extract Hans' soul from his corpse and transfer it to a new body. Why? Well, for the same reasons people climb mountains--just because he can. Finding a new body for Hans takes less effort than expected, when Christina throws herself into a lake in despair at witnessing her lover guillotined. Other people might blanch at transplanting one person's soul into another's body--much less transplanting a boy's soul into a girl's body. But if Frankenstein let such conventions hold him back from transplanting Romeo into Juliet's body, we wouldn't have much of a movie, would we?

Oh, and what a movie it is. Although the ludicrous plot of Frankenstein Created Woman (1967) boils down to "boy meets girl, boy becomes girl, together they go on killing rampage," everyone involved brings an enormous gravitas to the production. The gender-bending plot belongs to a late-1960s pop cultural emphasis on androgyny -- Baron Frankenstein's half-male sexpot monster taking its place alongside David Bowie and Twiggy as emblems of a society throwing off the traditional, limiting, definitions of man and woman.

Before you make too much of that last assertion, bear in mind that Frankenstein Created Woman was made quite some time before the counterculture's Summer of Love. Pop culture's interest in androgyny really blossomed the following decade. Far from riffing on social revolutions of the day, screenwriter Anthony Hinds had actually written the story back in 1958, as the originally mooted sequel to 1957's The Curse of Frankenstein.

A bit of history is in order here. Hammer Films was founded in 1932 and spent its first few decades doing the same thing as other British film concerns--that is, struggling to find an audience. Their farce comedies and crime thrillers were competently made, even fitfully brilliant, but remained stubbornly local. Then, in the mid-1950s, the studio's management noted that a few of their science fiction offerings were performing better at the box office than anything they'd done before--and had even started to crack the elusive American market. Hoping to chase that success, the studio produced a pair of horror films adapted loosely from the stories of Frankenstein and Dracula. These were not like the gothic horror films that Universal Studios had made their bread and butter. Instead, The Curse of Frankenstein and Horror of Dracula (1958) were ripe with sexuality and Technicolor gore. They were instant sensations, earning back more than thirty times what they cost to make, and establishing "Hammer Horror" as an internationally-recognized brand name for a special kind of screen entertainment.

The producer of these breakthrough hits was Anthony Hinds, son of one of Hammer's founders. In addition to being a producer, he was also a writer--a fact he concealed by use of the pseudonym John Elder. In a playful nod to Roger Vadim's And God Created Woman (1956), he sketched out a story for an immediate sequel, to be titled And Frankenstein Created Woman -- but decided to set the script aside in favor of another approach. That script would simmer on a back burner for years, maturing like a fine wine.

In the interim, stars were minted. Terence Fisher, the director of both The Curse of Frankenstein and Horror of Dracula, quickly became the studio's principal director of lurid monster movies. Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing became the faces of Hammer's most enduring and popular franchises. That all three of these men were dignified gentlemen completely unlike the monsters they created on screen only added to the sense that they were making a "veddy veddy British" kind of horror.

In 1966, the studio was publicly celebrating "Ten Years of Hammer Horror," which they intended to cap with the release of the fourth Frankenstein picture, once again uniting director Terence Fisher with star Peter Cushing. Ten years of anything risks devolving into creative exhaustion. In recent years, Hammer had come to face fierce competition from upstarts like Tigon and Amicus, smaller studios that aggressively copied Hammer's business model and gothic horror aesthetics--not to mention poaching Cushing, Lee, and Fisher. As Hammer came to its tenth anniversary celebration, it was under increasing pressure to differentiate its product and maintain some sense of novelty for a genre in danger of overexposure.

In this environment, Hinds' preposterous story was just the ticket, full as it was of perversion and scandal. More than that, Hind's script is taut, clever, wicked, and strange. It functions as a tragic fugue. The film opens with a guillotine blade hoist into the sky--that image will return repeatedly in a story marked by numerous beheadings. Christina drowns herself twice. Frankenstein removes the distinctive facial scars from Christina when he revives her corpse, but those same injuries are copied onto another character's face. Wine is spilled as a prelude to violence--twice. The same dialogue is repeated by different characters in back-to-back scenes. Fate has made sure these people can never escape their peculiar trap.

One of the most striking aspects of Frankenstein Created Woman is its resolute amorality. The most caricatured villains of the story are each given moments of genuine human sympathy, while the ostensible protagonists are presented bluntly. The filmmakers simply expect that the audience will ally its loyalties with those characters whose point-of-view is maintained (Frankenstein, Hans, and Christina) even if those characters do nothing to earn that sympathy.

Peter Cushing's Baron Frankenstein had become an icon of counter-cultural revolution to teenage fans of the series, who admired his defiance of authority. Like Clint Eastwood's Man Without a Name, Cushing's Frankenstein was a defining anti-hero of the era. In a telling moment, Cushing objects to being asked to justify if his actions are right: "Right? What has right got to do with it?"

Cushing steals every scene he is in, and Thorley Walters as his alcoholic assistant delivers one of the finest and most humane performances of his distinguished career. It is Christina, though, who anchors the film. It was a demanding and multifaceted role--the actress was called upon to differentiate between the original Christina, her reanimated duplicate, and the murderous revenge-driven personality that Hans creates within that reanimated corpse. And to tackle this tripartite role, the wise stewards of Hammer turned to a Playboy centerfold named Susan Denberg (well, her real name was Dietlinde Zechner, but you won't find that name on any movie credits). She was just 21 years old as filming began, and the studio held a birthday bash for her at London's Playboy Club as a goodwill gesture/publicity stunt.

She was certainly a pretty girl, but it is hard to evaluate her performance from the finished film because her voice was redubbed by another, uncredited, actress. This was a common practice for Hammer, and the studio clearly felt that her appearance was of more importance to the film's success than her thespian skills.

Sadly, this exploitative attitude was something poor Denberg never outran. Her ambition to be a star was never realized. Dr. Frankenstein's attitude towards Denberg's character Christina served as a cruel paradigm for Denberg's dealings with Hollywood ever after: powerful men were more interested in her body than her mind. The film even acknowledges that her sex appeal is an act choreographed by men: men remake her body to emphasize curves and blonde hair, men compel her to act like a slut. Tabloid papers claimed that Denberg later developed a drug habit; she eventually committed suicide.

Despite the tragic pall Denberg's fate casts retrospectively over Frankenstein Created Woman, it is a remarkably accomplished creation. Terence Fisher knew perfectly how to temper the craziest aspects with a sense of reserve so that the affair never feels tawdry or exploitative, no matter how kinky it gets. It was paired on release with the more conventional The Mummy's Shroud as its companion feature in England. It is a sign of Frankenstein's comparatively greater success that its brand of gender-confusion started to become a recurring Hammer trope. Crescendo (1970), The Vampire Lovers (1970), Lust for a Vampire (1971), Countess Dracula (1971), Twins of Evil (1971), Vampire Circus (1972), and Dr. Jekyll and Sister Hyde (1971) continued to mine the commercial prospects of sexual perversion and gothic monsters.

Producer: Anthony Nelson Keys
Director: Terence Fisher
Screenplay: Anthony Hinds
Cinematography: Arthur Grant
Art Direction: Don Mingaye
Music: James Bernard
Film Editing: Spencer Reeve
Cast: Peter Cushing (Baron Frankenstein), Susan Denberg (Christina), Thorley Walters (Doctor Hertz), Robert Morris (Hans), Duncan Lamont (prisoner), Peter Blythe (Anton).
C-92m.

By David Kalat

Sources:

Tom Johnson and Deborah Del Vecchio, Hammer Films: An Exhaustive Filmography
Howard Maxford, Hammer, House of Horror: Behind the Screams
Jonathan Rigby, English Gothic: A Century of Horror Cinema
Gary Svehla, "The Evolving Worlds of Hammer's Baron Frankenstein," Midnight Marquee Presents a Tribute to Hammer Films
Gary and Susan Svehla, editors, We Belong Dead: Frankenstein on Film

Frankenstein Created Woman

Hans (Robert Morris) is a young man accused of murder. The only "evidence" against him is the fact that his father was executed for a similar crime, but in the parochial imaginations of this ill-identified European backwater it can be reasonably assumed "like father like son." Hans has an alibi, but it's problematic and he doesn't want to say it aloud: on the night in question, he was in bed with the dead man's disfigured daughter Christina (Susan Denberg), whom he had just rescued from cruel torment at the hands of some rich wastrels. Those bullies are in fact the real killers, but their reputations will remain unsullied while this innocent boy is punished in their place. It may seem confusing, but hold on, it's about to get much more complicated. Baron Frankenstein (Peter Cushing) sees this monstrous injustice as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. All he has to do is extract Hans' soul from his corpse and transfer it to a new body. Why? Well, for the same reasons people climb mountains--just because he can. Finding a new body for Hans takes less effort than expected, when Christina throws herself into a lake in despair at witnessing her lover guillotined. Other people might blanch at transplanting one person's soul into another's body--much less transplanting a boy's soul into a girl's body. But if Frankenstein let such conventions hold him back from transplanting Romeo into Juliet's body, we wouldn't have much of a movie, would we? Oh, and what a movie it is. Although the ludicrous plot of Frankenstein Created Woman (1967) boils down to "boy meets girl, boy becomes girl, together they go on killing rampage," everyone involved brings an enormous gravitas to the production. The gender-bending plot belongs to a late-1960s pop cultural emphasis on androgyny -- Baron Frankenstein's half-male sexpot monster taking its place alongside David Bowie and Twiggy as emblems of a society throwing off the traditional, limiting, definitions of man and woman. Before you make too much of that last assertion, bear in mind that Frankenstein Created Woman was made quite some time before the counterculture's Summer of Love. Pop culture's interest in androgyny really blossomed the following decade. Far from riffing on social revolutions of the day, screenwriter Anthony Hinds had actually written the story back in 1958, as the originally mooted sequel to 1957's The Curse of Frankenstein. A bit of history is in order here. Hammer Films was founded in 1932 and spent its first few decades doing the same thing as other British film concerns--that is, struggling to find an audience. Their farce comedies and crime thrillers were competently made, even fitfully brilliant, but remained stubbornly local. Then, in the mid-1950s, the studio's management noted that a few of their science fiction offerings were performing better at the box office than anything they'd done before--and had even started to crack the elusive American market. Hoping to chase that success, the studio produced a pair of horror films adapted loosely from the stories of Frankenstein and Dracula. These were not like the gothic horror films that Universal Studios had made their bread and butter. Instead, The Curse of Frankenstein and Horror of Dracula (1958) were ripe with sexuality and Technicolor gore. They were instant sensations, earning back more than thirty times what they cost to make, and establishing "Hammer Horror" as an internationally-recognized brand name for a special kind of screen entertainment. The producer of these breakthrough hits was Anthony Hinds, son of one of Hammer's founders. In addition to being a producer, he was also a writer--a fact he concealed by use of the pseudonym John Elder. In a playful nod to Roger Vadim's And God Created Woman (1956), he sketched out a story for an immediate sequel, to be titled And Frankenstein Created Woman -- but decided to set the script aside in favor of another approach. That script would simmer on a back burner for years, maturing like a fine wine. In the interim, stars were minted. Terence Fisher, the director of both The Curse of Frankenstein and Horror of Dracula, quickly became the studio's principal director of lurid monster movies. Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing became the faces of Hammer's most enduring and popular franchises. That all three of these men were dignified gentlemen completely unlike the monsters they created on screen only added to the sense that they were making a "veddy veddy British" kind of horror. In 1966, the studio was publicly celebrating "Ten Years of Hammer Horror," which they intended to cap with the release of the fourth Frankenstein picture, once again uniting director Terence Fisher with star Peter Cushing. Ten years of anything risks devolving into creative exhaustion. In recent years, Hammer had come to face fierce competition from upstarts like Tigon and Amicus, smaller studios that aggressively copied Hammer's business model and gothic horror aesthetics--not to mention poaching Cushing, Lee, and Fisher. As Hammer came to its tenth anniversary celebration, it was under increasing pressure to differentiate its product and maintain some sense of novelty for a genre in danger of overexposure. In this environment, Hinds' preposterous story was just the ticket, full as it was of perversion and scandal. More than that, Hind's script is taut, clever, wicked, and strange. It functions as a tragic fugue. The film opens with a guillotine blade hoist into the sky--that image will return repeatedly in a story marked by numerous beheadings. Christina drowns herself twice. Frankenstein removes the distinctive facial scars from Christina when he revives her corpse, but those same injuries are copied onto another character's face. Wine is spilled as a prelude to violence--twice. The same dialogue is repeated by different characters in back-to-back scenes. Fate has made sure these people can never escape their peculiar trap. One of the most striking aspects of Frankenstein Created Woman is its resolute amorality. The most caricatured villains of the story are each given moments of genuine human sympathy, while the ostensible protagonists are presented bluntly. The filmmakers simply expect that the audience will ally its loyalties with those characters whose point-of-view is maintained (Frankenstein, Hans, and Christina) even if those characters do nothing to earn that sympathy. Peter Cushing's Baron Frankenstein had become an icon of counter-cultural revolution to teenage fans of the series, who admired his defiance of authority. Like Clint Eastwood's Man Without a Name, Cushing's Frankenstein was a defining anti-hero of the era. In a telling moment, Cushing objects to being asked to justify if his actions are right: "Right? What has right got to do with it?" Cushing steals every scene he is in, and Thorley Walters as his alcoholic assistant delivers one of the finest and most humane performances of his distinguished career. It is Christina, though, who anchors the film. It was a demanding and multifaceted role--the actress was called upon to differentiate between the original Christina, her reanimated duplicate, and the murderous revenge-driven personality that Hans creates within that reanimated corpse. And to tackle this tripartite role, the wise stewards of Hammer turned to a Playboy centerfold named Susan Denberg (well, her real name was Dietlinde Zechner, but you won't find that name on any movie credits). She was just 21 years old as filming began, and the studio held a birthday bash for her at London's Playboy Club as a goodwill gesture/publicity stunt. She was certainly a pretty girl, but it is hard to evaluate her performance from the finished film because her voice was redubbed by another, uncredited, actress. This was a common practice for Hammer, and the studio clearly felt that her appearance was of more importance to the film's success than her thespian skills. Sadly, this exploitative attitude was something poor Denberg never outran. Her ambition to be a star was never realized. Dr. Frankenstein's attitude towards Denberg's character Christina served as a cruel paradigm for Denberg's dealings with Hollywood ever after: powerful men were more interested in her body than her mind. The film even acknowledges that her sex appeal is an act choreographed by men: men remake her body to emphasize curves and blonde hair, men compel her to act like a slut. Tabloid papers claimed that Denberg later developed a drug habit; she eventually committed suicide. Despite the tragic pall Denberg's fate casts retrospectively over Frankenstein Created Woman, it is a remarkably accomplished creation. Terence Fisher knew perfectly how to temper the craziest aspects with a sense of reserve so that the affair never feels tawdry or exploitative, no matter how kinky it gets. It was paired on release with the more conventional The Mummy's Shroud as its companion feature in England. It is a sign of Frankenstein's comparatively greater success that its brand of gender-confusion started to become a recurring Hammer trope. Crescendo (1970), The Vampire Lovers (1970), Lust for a Vampire (1971), Countess Dracula (1971), Twins of Evil (1971), Vampire Circus (1972), and Dr. Jekyll and Sister Hyde (1971) continued to mine the commercial prospects of sexual perversion and gothic monsters. Producer: Anthony Nelson Keys Director: Terence Fisher Screenplay: Anthony Hinds Cinematography: Arthur Grant Art Direction: Don Mingaye Music: James Bernard Film Editing: Spencer Reeve Cast: Peter Cushing (Baron Frankenstein), Susan Denberg (Christina), Thorley Walters (Doctor Hertz), Robert Morris (Hans), Duncan Lamont (prisoner), Peter Blythe (Anton). C-92m. By David Kalat Sources: Tom Johnson and Deborah Del Vecchio, Hammer Films: An Exhaustive Filmography Howard Maxford, Hammer, House of Horror: Behind the Screams Jonathan Rigby, English Gothic: A Century of Horror Cinema Gary Svehla, "The Evolving Worlds of Hammer's Baron Frankenstein," Midnight Marquee Presents a Tribute to Hammer Films Gary and Susan Svehla, editors, We Belong Dead: Frankenstein on Film

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Released in Great Britain in 1967. John Elder is a pseudonym for Anthony Hinds.

Miscellaneous Notes

Released in United States 1967

Sequel to "Evil of Frankenstein"

Released in United States 1967