Frankenstein. As you read that word, what do you think of? Likely images of a tall monster or possibly of a crazed doctor. Yet the word was intended to be a last name of a character in a story. The original novel had a subtitle of “The Modern Prometheus” in order to attract readers because, in 1818, no one knew what “Frankenstein” meant. Today, it would be similar to publishing a book named “Johnson.”

Yet both the book by Mary Woolencraft Shelly and subsequent movies have changed all that. Frankenstein the noun is a scary monster. Frankenstein the verb means “to cobble together with spare parts.” The novel is considered solid literature and the 1931 film is widely accepted as a classic. Frankenstein towers over his peers. In the book, the main theme explores what happens when man acts as a God. Compare that to Brahm’s Stoker’s Dracula which contrasts modern technology with superstition or Gaston Leroux’s Phantom which is mostly a crime thriller. Only Stevenson’s Jekyll/Hyde’s themes of duality rival Shelley’s. In film, Karloff’s portrayal is iconic; the sequel, Bride of Frankenstein is as well-known as the original (who here has seen Dracula’s Daughter?). The modern master of horror, Stephen King, included the monster in It. Even the spoof (Young Frankenstein) is better than any others. 

What keeps Frankenstein on the top of the heap? (From here on out, I’m going to focus on the monster)

Eliza, a character in my short story “Frankenstein’s Manor” in Who’s the Monster?, doesn’t think the monster is relevant anymore. She openly mocks the movies in the middle of a spook house. Bad idea. Her claim is that modern monsters leave Frankenstein’s monsters in the dust. Yet the Jason’s and Jigsaw’s of the world have yet to stand the test of time to see if they endure. Sure, the movie Halloween has been out since the 1970s, but Frankenstein was written in 1818. From that perspective, Michael Meyer is still in his infancy.

Frankenstein is a creature of force and violence like most modern monsters, yet has a tragedy about him most serial-killer creatures lack. This makes him more interesting. Frankenstein looks creepy, lending to the initial shock of seeing him. Compare him to Dracula or human-appearing monsters. We think of Frankenstein’s monster as a zombie, a revived corpse. Yet most zombie films are frightening because of their number. And Frankenstein is not a mindless zombie eating brains. In both book and film, he is a child of a mistake, a wayward soul seeking peace.

Aren’t we all? And doesn’t this connect him with us on a personal level? Only the Wolfman (who is a variation on Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde) has a similar connection (of our good and bad natures).

Each generation asks the same questions. Who is my creator? Why was I put here? I’m a loving person, so why do people hate me? Are these not the questions that cross your mind at times? These reflections are what connect us to the monster through the decades to now, and through the decades to come.

So is he scary? As immortal as Jason, hell yes. Is he sympathetic? In my opinion, as the androids in Blade Runner. Most importantly, the Frankenstein Monster is enduring, able to survive the comic hijinx of Abbott and Costello or misfire of many subsequent, inferior films. Frankenstein—in all media—stands the test of time.