Castle Frankenstein loomed black in the mists, a mass of slimy rock and masonry, its windows as blank as empty eyes, an aura of decay emanating from it, giving knowledge of its long untenancy Below in the valley, beyond the swamps that bordered the castle, the sounds of the tiny village could be heard, muted by distance. Cheerful, yellow light fanned out from the village windows, pushing back the night. But the castle was grimly dark with no show of life. Young Dr. Frankenstein stood before the castle, returned from arduous medical studies and secret experimentation, to the home of his fore-fathers. To him this was not just a brooding pile of crumbling rock… it was a laboratory, isolated and in an area of violent storms and fits of nature, and these things were necessary for his dark and secret purposes. Not long before, the young scientist had asked himself a question: Whence did the principle of life proceed? What gave life? What caused the generation of life? And he has searched through strange and noxious experimentation until he thought that he had found the answer. News of his work, his tampering with the innermost secrets of God and nature, had leaked out in London, and he had been ostracized and forced to flee. So he had come back to this place from which his family had sprung, to continue and culthinate his experiments. He had brought with him strange and terrifying pieces of equipment such as had never before been seen in a scientific laboratory. He told himself, with the mad zeal of a fanatic, that this time he would succeed, this time he would create the animate from the inanimate life,from non-life. The drama of Frankenstein had begun.
In the castle Dr. Frankenstein found a strange creature, a misshapen hunchback, twisted in both mind and body, whom the villagers had cast out. The scientist pressed this moronic creature, Igor, into his employ. ‘Together they erected the strange maze of scientific paraphernalia Dr. Frankenstein had brought with him for this, the greatest experiment man had ever attempted. Soon the bizarre machines were rea-dy and it was time to begin to fashion the creature that the scientist hoped would be given life through the agency of the machine. Tormented by the inner turmoil that drove him mercilessly toward his goal, Dr. Frankenstein, for a moment, thought of the love. ly girl whom he left behind in England, his Fiance. But he brushed her from his mind. There was no time now for thoughts other than those that would advance his work and make reality out of theory. The greatest scientific minds in the world had laugh. ml at him, ridiculed him and cursed him for a fool. They had said that no man could tamper with nature, that he was going behind the veil of life and death where no human being must go. In the end they had shouted that he was doomed to failure, called him madman and cast him out. But now the machine was ready. Food for the machine must be found… the elements to fashion and mold a human body. In the blackness of night, like ghouls on the prowl, Dr. Frankenstein and Igor dabbled in the unhal-lowed damps of the graves of the village cemetery.
From their noisome depths they stole freshly dead corpses. They collected bones from charnal houses, and, from dead flesh and bones, writhing tendons, and blue knotted veins and ganglia, Dr. Fran-kenstein began to fashion the creature to whorn he hoped to give life. Finally the body was finished, eight feet tall, a monster of dead flesh and bone held together by bolts of metal. From its neck projected two metal Electra-leads to attract the life-giving for-ces of nature that he hoped would animate the life-less clay.
There remained but one item to make his creation complete. Dr. Frankenstein must have a brain for his creature. In the village there was a medical laborato-ry and the scientist knew that it held two preserved brains. One was a normal brain, the other that of a homicidal maniac. The scientist instructed his weird assistant to break into the lab and pilfer the normal brain. Igor made his way to the place in the dead of night and found entry through a window. In his clumsy haste he broke the jar that contained the normal brain and mashed the organ. Fearing his master’s rage, he cunningly removed the label on the container of the homicidal maniac’s brain and brought it back. Working with intense concentration, Dr. Frankenstein installed this ghoulish brain in the skullcase of the huge, man-made figure. The Monster was complete, waiting only for the force that would agitate its limbs and toeing to convulsive life.
Meanwhile, Dr. Frankenstein’s fiancé, hearing nothing from the engrossed scientist she loved, had come to him and taken lodgings in the village. Dr. Frankenstein, waiting now for one of the terrible storms that were prevalent in the locale in order to complete his experiment, renewed his courtship and a wedding date was set. There were festivities in the village as the time of the wedding came. Then, black clouds ripped across an angry sky. Thunder growled ominously, lightning cut jagged rents in the heavens. The storm grew in fury, winds blasting the earth like the hot breath of death. Dr Franken-stein knew that this was the storm he had been wait-ing for. Leaving his bride waiting at the altar, in his scientific zeal, he rushed to his laboratory. The huge form of the monster, fashioned from loathesome dead clay, lay bound in cloth and strapped to an operating table with metal bands. With Igor’s help, the scientist, his eyes burning with fanatic zeal, pul-led the switches that activated the strange, alien machines. The storm had reached the height of its fury. A lever opened a skylight to the raging elements, high in the ceiling of the room. Another lever raised the platform on which the dead form lay, exposing the man-fashioned monster to the storm. Lighting screamed down, contacting the Electra-leads on the monster’s neck, bathing the repulsive form with writhing blue-white snakes of energy as the wind howled in demoniac glee. Quickly the scientist lowered the platform, his eyes glued to his hideous handiwork. For a long moment there was no change in the creature made from moulding flesh. Then an eyelid moved, a monstrous hand twitched, and a moment later a soulless monster stood before his creator.
The creature he had fashioned was not a man as the scientist had hoped. It was a monster, without soul or conscience, carrying within its horrible body the seeds of destruction. But, the scientist hoped that he could teach it to be human. He locked it in one of the castle cells, but the walking horror broke Out and terrorized the countryside. Dr. Frankenstein organized a search for the soulless fiend among the villagers. He told them the monster was harmless, but they didn’t believe him and turned against him. Meanwhile the monster met a little child, picking flowers beside a pond. He felt the sweetness of the child and the first touch of humanity came to him. He smiled and helped her pluck the pt-tals from the flowers then, the petals all gone, in black frustration, he threw the child into the pond and stalked toward the village. Strange unhuman passions churning in him, the monster went to the Inn and entered the room where Dr. Frankenstein’s fiancee waited disconsolately in her bridal dress. Her horrified screams brought the bridal party to her rescue and the monster fled from the flaming torches which they wielded and which be feared.
The father of the little girl, whom the monster had met beside the pool, walked solemnly into the village carrying her crushed and drowned body. Aby-smal fear and anger took hold of the villagers and, armed and carrying torches, they prepared to find and destroy the monster. Dr. Frankenstein tried to stop them. But they were beyond appeal and they chased the scientist out of the village. Frankenstein knew that he must reach the monster first if he was to preserve the horrendous fruits of his years of scientific endeavor. He searched and found the monster before the fear-maddened mob could get to him. But he had no control over his hideous creation. With an inhuman growl and a convulsive sweep of his unineasurably powerful arm, the bestial Thing smashed the scientist to unconsciousness and carried him off.
The villagers sighted the monster and closed in, their torches lighting the dark night. The fleeing monster, still burdened with his creator, climbed to the top of a windmill and the villagers promptly set it on fire. Bellowing and shrieking inhumanly, the monster hurled the scientist from him and the milling mob broke the fall of Dr. Frankenstein. The flames mounted higher and in their fiery fangs, screaming horribly, the monster died, returning in death to the element that had given life to his loathsome body and maniacal brain. THUS ENDS THE CLASSIC HORROR TALE OF FRANKENSTEIN, THE MAN WHO CREATED A MONSTER AND BROUGHT A NOXIOUS HORROR TO LIFE AND TO DEATH.
Bride of Frankenstein
by Don Sheppard
When Karloff made Bride of Frankenstein, he had to receive Infra•Red Ray treatment and massage to stimulate circulation in his legs and arms and to relieve pain in his injured left side. He had hurt his side in the first scene of the film, where Ile drowned the burgermaster in the flooded celar of the mill.
Colin Clive, Elsa Lanchester, Boris Karloff and Ernest Thesiger.
Boris Karloff, director James Whale, and cinematographer John J. Mescall
Son of Frankenstein
by Vincent Lewis
Son of Frankenstein is without a doubt the last great Frankenstein film from Universal Pictures. For that matter, it is the last great Frankenstein film from any studio. Scanning the list of titles in the celebrated series, we see the original Frankenstein, Bride. Son, Ghost. Meets Wolf Man. House and the House of Dracula sequel, Abbott & Costello; then two Hammer Films offerings in technicolor—Curse and Revenge; followed by various 35mm abomina-tions such as I Was A Teenage Frankenstein and Frankenstein’s Daughter. to name just two of the many atrocities that screened at local theatres. There are some so-called “students” of horror films who will argue endlessly that Meets Wolf Man, for example, is certainly one of the better Frankenstein films. As far as this reviewer is concerned, there are two separate stables of Frankenstein films: first one comprising the first three films; the second sheltering all the titles that followed, whether produced by Universal or not. On these terms, I will agree that Meets Wolf Man is indeed one of the better films of the series—in the second stable, of course. At that, undoubtedly the best in the second string is the Abbott & Costello picture, even though it is a comedy. One of the points that qualifies Son of Frankenstein for placement in position number three in the first stable is the fact that here is Kosloff for the last time portraying the now-famous Monster. Lon Chaney, Bela Lugosi, Glenn Strange, Christopher Lee. and others portrayed the Monster in later films, but none of them could possibly equal the dramatic genius of Karloff in the role.
Too, and probably most important. this film represents the last time audiences were given the Franken-stein Monster as a pitiful creature and not as some huge lumbering ox who stiff-legs around the set, grunting and groaning like an ape. makin,, hi much-awaited appearance not until – the last reel. When KarloR vacated the role after this film, it seemed as if the studio couldn’t care less about producing their next Frankenstein film with any degree of intelligence or artistic merit. Ghost of was the first of the second stable films. and I know that all who Saw it during its original re-lease were vastly disappointed. Son was an original screenplay by Willis Cooper. produced and directed for Universal by Rowland Lee. Lionel Atwill. Josephine Hutchinson. and Ed-gar Norton were in featured roles: The massive sets were designed by Jack Otterson. and the eerie lighting and camera effects were handled by George Robinson. In the story. Basil Rathbone as-sumes the mantle of Baron Wolf von Frankenstein. possessor of the dread heritage of the family, who returns to his ancestral castle twenty-five years after his father’s death, as stipulated by the elder Frankenstein’s will. There, he stumbles upon his fa-ther’s grim creation, the hair•raising Monster of Destruction and Pity, played by Kartoff. Soon afterwards. Wolf encounters Ygor (Lugosb. the crazed, broken necked shepherd, who insists Wolf take up his father’s experiments with life and death and restore the elec-trical power to the giant creation. This the young Frankenstein does: and later lives to. regret. Ygor. who had been sentenced to hang for grave-robbing and who es-caped from his fate by a miracle and with a broken neck, thinks of revenge now. Ile plans to use the revived Monster in his scheme. Afraid that Wolf will destroy the Monster should he learn of Ygor’s plans, the mad shepherd trier to kill the scientist but is accidentally killed himself. Blindly striking out to avenge Ygor. the Mon-ster kidnaps Wolf’s little boy to kill him. But Wolf arrives in time to save the child, and sends a post hurtling at the creature, knocking him olT balance and flipping him into a bubbling pit of molten lava. Lionel Atwill gave an excellent per-formance as a POliCe inspector whose arm has been torn off by the Monster sometime previous. And Bela Lugosi probably gave his most memorable performance since Dracula as the shepherd Ygor. As a matter of fact, this writer believes that the role of Ygor is by far Lugosi’s best.
Rathbone, I’m afraid, is guilty of over-acting in this film—particularly in the sequence where he is tossing darts while being questioned by At-will as to what he knows, if anything, about a monstrous being who is run-ning rampant around the countryside. scaring and sometimes killing local villagers. Karioff’s portrayal of the Monster is truly not as magnificent as in the sec-ond picture. Bride. At interesting footnote to Karloff in Son is the fact that technicians constructed a perma-nent double for him made of half-inch iron piping. It moved on rubber tired wheels. The body was merely an up-right pole, but at the top of the pole—some seven feet above the floor—was fixed a plaster mask. This mask was an exact likeness of Karloff as the Monster. It was covered with the same gray-green greasepaint. and a scar was made on the right cheek. There were the same sort of big metal clamps in the false skull as were used to fasten the sections of the Monster’s head on Karloff. The main reason for the con-struction of this thing is that it was used as a “stand-in” for Kaytoff before the cameras began grinding away on a scene. To make up a regular human stand-in for Ravioli would have taken eight hours every day, just as it did for the star.
Ghost of Frankenstein
The strangest Frankenstein Monster of them all! Tormented by the angry elements of nature, he drew life itself from the lightning that flayed him. Hating the world, he developed an almost child-like love for a little girl. Obeying an impulse, he crushed to death his only friend and wept. Mute, he spoke. And submitting to an operation to make him a creature of good, he became even more fearsome than ever. This was the Monster of The Ghost of Frankenstein. In the world behind the camera, his story was equally strange. On a Friday the 13th. in March, Universal Pictures released the fourth Frankenstein film, with a star as astonishing to the fantastic film fan as the screenplay itself, and with an audacity seldom matched in motion picture history. For in the role of the Monster the role Boris Karloff had made famous in Frankenstein and The Bride of Frankenstein and The Son of Frankenstein—Universal had cast Lon Chaney, Jr., fresh from his triumph as the Wolf Man.
In Frankenstein, Universal had made a gamble, selecting an unknown Boris Karloff. But he had rejected this movie, and never again would he play the Monster. Now, the motion picture world wondered if the film studio had created its own Frankenstein Monster, could anyone other than Karl loft play the part convincingly? Dynamite was laid against the castle walls, fuses were lit. The castle was blown into rubble. and Frankenstein’s Monster buried in the midst of it. So had ended The Soil of Frankenstein. But now, with the villagers gone, a figure, Ygor, the crippled madman had survived his own hanging. He probed the gutted remains, digging deeper than the superstitious villagers had ever dared. And there, as his eyes glittered with feverish excitement, he found the Monster imprisoned in a tomb of sulphur.
Slowly, the immense body stirred. The sulphur that obscured his features fell away, bit by bit. He stood. And for the first time, the audiences of the world saw Lon Chaney, Jr. as the Frankenstein Monster. This was not Karloff’s creature. The makeup was the same, but that was alL Chaney’s Monster was massively huge, a great, dumb, tormented brute more animal than man—yet Looking more man-like than Karloff ever had—heavy-faced, heavy-lidded, a column of living, hating, undirected power. There were no signs of the fleshless, almost esthetic. features of Karloff’s broken-souled creation. And yet, the portrayal was right. Every good actor brings something different to a role and the Monster was no exception. Universal’s gamble at the box office had paid off. The rest of the players were as astonishing as Chaney. Bela Lugosi, a star in Dracula, accepted a mere featured role to recreate the part of Ygor. Sir Cedric Hardwick° knighted only eight years before for his contributions to the English theater became the tragic figure of Ludwig Frankenstein, his father’s second son. Beautiful Evelyn Ankers played Elsa, his daughter. Ralph Bellamy to star as Franklin Roosevelt on the stage and screen in the award’ winning Sunrise or Campabeilo. became Elsa’s fiance and the public prosecutor who stalked the Monster. Lionel Atwill of England, with more than a score of medical roles behind him was Dr. Bohmer, Frankenstein’s jealous assistant. And four-year-old Janet Ann Gallow, possibly the youngest featured player in horror movie history was Cloestine.
It was a near brilliant cast, and they gave their roles all of the variety and scope that was demanded of them. The Monster had survived the dynamite blasts, the collapsing masonry and timbers, and the entombment, but his battered body was gravely weakened and his electrical life fluid ebbed. Ygor, his friend, led him haltingly out of the ruins of the castle and away from the Frankenstein countryside.
Suddenly, in a majestic and awesome scene, the lowering skies stormed and great fingers of lightning flailed out blindly, lashing the stricken creature—and as they did, life and strength coursed through him once again. He would need more, if he were to long survive, but now Ygor could guide him to Victor Frankenstein’s other son. In Vasaria, where Dr. Ludwig Frankenstein had been living incognito, the Monster escaped from Ygor and roamed the village streets. There, he found tiny Cloestine, and the child, unafraid of him—like no one else he had ever known—attracted the Mon-ster. He carried her away, only to be discovered by the villagers and pur-sued over the roofs and street arch-ways. Finally, the mob overcame the weakened creature and imprisoned him. Meanwhile, Ygor threatened Dr. Frankenstein with exposure if the Monster’s artificial life were not renewed. Although he realized his sanitarium and all his life’s work would be forfeit if his real identity were known. Frankenstein refused. But when Erik Ernst, the public prosecutor and his daughter’s fiance, asked for his medical opinion of the Mon-ter, chained now in the village court-room, he was forced to examine him: and there. the Monster, deprived of Cloestine and seeing the son of his creator, went mad, smashing the massive chair he was chained to in fragments and battering the police sense-less escaping only after Ludwig Frankenstein had faced him down, as one might a wild animal. With Ygor, the Monster went to the sanitarium. Enraged, he strangled Frankenstein’s assistant and Elsa, after a terrifying experience with the Monster.
Frankenstein, shocked by Kettering’s death, decided upon a more daring course. He would transplant Kettering’s brain into the skull of the creature his father had created, making him at last the instrument of good that Victor Frankenstein had intended. But the Monster, in one of the most powerful and moving scenes in the film, had accidently crushed his only friend. Ygor. to death. While he grieved, Dr. Bohner, an assistant of Frankensein’s and blindly Jealous of his success, replaced Dr. Kettering’s brain with that of the criminally insane Ygor. The operation successfully com-pleted, Frankenstein closed the final switch, sending artificial electrical life into the Monster. And Ygor, shreiking his hate through the Monster’s lips, went berserk, hurtling Bohmer back into the laboratory apparatus, electrocuting him and starting a fire that swept the sanitarium, destroying it. In the midst of the flames, beside his father’s creature, Ludwig Frankenstein perished.
So ended the strangest of all Frankenstein films, with the crippled shepherd and the mindless Monster welded into one terrible being. Yet, strangely, outstanding as it is, The Ghost of Frankenstein cannot take its place beside the earlier classic films of Karloff. Despite the astonishing and inventive story and the vast power of such scenes as the lightning storm, Ygor’s death and the final terrifying passages as the Monster burns, his flesh blistering in the heat, while the sanitarium falls—and despite the performances of the players, the motion picture falls short of greatness. If a little more effort had been made to give it the size and scope of the earlier Frankenstein productions; if, like the earlier films, the camera work had been truly distinguished, if the makeup department, a major hero once, had adapted the Monster’s makeup to conform with Chaney’s utterly different face, if that had happened, perhaps The Ghost of Frankenstein could have been truly memorable. Nonetheless, it stands out as a milestone in horror film production. But strangest of all, as though mind had weirdly triumphed over matter, the Monster’s terrible new brain shaped flesh as well as emotion.
Everyone, it seems, would someday like the chance to play the role of a movie monster, growling and clawing out at the world, having a field day wrecking a mad scientist’s lab frightened the daylights out of the local villagers, and, of course, be chased over loge shrouded moors by citizens with blazing torches. It sounds like fun. But it isn’t. Any actor who ever was a ghoul, zombie, monster, vampire, or what-have-you could tell you being a man-made horror isn’t the easiest way to make a living. This interviewer caught up with the greatest monster man of them all, Boris Karloff, on the set of his new picture The Raven, and asked him what it’s really like to be a filmland creep. What the Master of Horror had to say on the subject is something to be carefully con-sidered by all budding Kar-loffs, Chancys, or Lugosis.
During the filming of his Frankenstein movies, Boris Karloff had to check in each morning at Universal Pictures at six o’clock sharp, where he was met by Jack Pierce, the ace makeup specialist. For Karloff, or for any actor in his position, the next six hours were the most gruelling. From six o’clock till noon, Pierce was plastering on Carloff’s facial and arm makeup. Karloff, practically strapped to the makeup chair, sat motionless while Pierce applied the thick, greenish-gray greasepaint. Bloody scars were trenched on Karloff’s forehead, scalp, neck, and wrists; and collodion and cotton made the fire-wrinkled skin of cheek and hand. There were aluminum neck spikes (popularly known as the Monster’s electrodes), and steel braces for the arms. At twelve o’clock, Pierce would begin fitting on the shoes, which weighed 11 pounds, five ounces a piece. They were size 24. Then came the final touch in creating Frankenstein’s monster — helping Karloff on with the padded suit two inches thick, which he wore under his clothes from neck to ankles. As a rule, one o’clock signalled the completion of makeup, and “Dr. Frankenstein” Pierce and his monster breathed a sigh of weary relief as they sat down to a hasty lunch before it came time for Karloff to thump off to the set for eight hours of acting. All told, Karloff’s makeup as the Frankenstein Monster weighed 62 pounds. On screen, he towered seven feet, seven inches. Of this height, seven inches had been added to his head, and nine inches to his feet. Each day, from 30 to 45 minutes were spent in making up his hands alone! So heavy was this makeup that if Karloff attempted to open his left hand unaided he would have broken the fingers. When Karloff made Bride of Frankenstein, he had to receive Infra-Red Ray treatment and massage to stimulate circulation in his legs and arms and to relieve pain in his injured left side. He had hurt his side in the first scene of the film, where he drowned the burgermaster. A typical shooting day saw Karloff home about nine in the evening, with just enough time to study the next day’s script, then catch some well-earned sleep before the four o’clock alarm rang off. With the production of a monster film running anywhere from three weeks to three months, and with the monster actor having to be subjected each day to the agonizing and tiresome ritual of an eight-hour makeup job, an actor’s endurance is sorely tested. To quote the authority, Mr. Boris Karloff, “You’ve got to have patience!” Tearing up the local village may sound like fun, but I’m one would-be monster who would rather be in the audience than on the screen.
How to Make a Frankenstein Monster
Take one part actor, two parts nose putty and greasepaint, add one part makeup man, then blend mixture well with the most important ingredient of all, if you have it—ten parts patience
by Don Sheppard
Everyone, it seems, would someday like the chance to play the role of a movie mon-ster, growling and clawing out at the world, having a field day wrecking a mad scientist’s lab frightened the daylights out of the local villagers, and, of course, be chased over fog-shrouded moors by citizens with blazing torches.
It sounds like fun.
But it isn’t Any actor who ever was a ghoul, zombie, monster, vam-pire, or what-have-you,. could tell you being a man-made hor-ror isn’t the easiest way to make a living.
This interviewer caught up with the greatest monster man of them all, Boris Karloff, on the set of his new picture The Raven, and asked him what it’s really like to be a filmland creep.
What the Master of Horror had to say on the subject is something to be carefully considered by all budding Karloffs, Chaneys, or Lugosis.
Makeup master Jack Pierce applies the infamous Frankenstein. head and face to Karloff s own.
Karloff and Ernest Thesiger in BRIDE OF FRANKENSTEIN
During the filming of his three Frankenstein movies (Frankenstein, 1932, Bride of Frankenstein, 1935, and Son of Franken-stein, 1939), Boris Karloff had to check in each morning at Universal Pictures at six o’clock sharp, where he was met by a sleeppeyed Jack Pierce, the ace makeup specialist. For Kar-toff, or for any actor in his position. the next six hours were the most gruelling. From six o’clock till noon, Pierce was plastering on Kar-loff’s facial and arm makeup. Karloff, practically strapped to the makeup chair• sat motionless while Pierce applied the thick, greenish-gray greasepaint. Bloody scars were trenched on Karloff’s forehead, scalp, neck, and wrists; and collodion and cotton made the fire-wrinkled skin of cheek and band. There were aluminum neck spikes (popularly known as the Monster’s electrodes), and steel braces for the arms. At twelve o’clock, Pierce would begin fitting on the shoes, which weighed 11 pounds. five ounces apiece. They were size 24. Then came the final touch in creating Frankenstein’s mon-ster — helping Karloff on with the padded suit two inches thick, which he wore under his clothes from neck to ankles. As a rule, one o’clock signalled the completion of makeup, and “Dr. Frankenstein” Pierce and his monster breathed a sigh of weary relief as they sat down to a hasty lunch before it came time for Karloff to thump off to the set for eight hours of acting. All told, Karloff’s makeup as the Frankenstein Monster weighed 62 pounds. On screen, lie towered seven feet, seven inches. Of this height, seven inches had been added to his head, and nine inches to his feet. Each day, from 30 to 45 minutes were spent in making up his hands alone! So heavy was this makeup that if Karloff attempted to open his left hand unaided he would have broken the fingers. When Karloff made Bride of Frankenstein, he had to receive Infra•lied Ray treatment and massage to stimulate circulation in his legs and arms and to relieve pain in his injured left side. He had hurt his side in the first scene of the film, where he drowned the burgermaster in the flooded celar of the mill. A typical shooting day saw Karloff home about nine in the evening, with just enough time to study the next day’s script. then catch some well-earned sleep before the four o’clock alarm rang off. With the production of a monster film running anywhere from three weeks to three months, and with the monster actor having to be subjected each day to the agonizing and tiresome ritual of an eight-hour makeup job, an actor’s endurance is sorely tested. To quote the authority. Mr. Boris Karloff, “You’ve .got to have patience!” Tearing up the local village may sound like fun. but I’m one would•he monster who would rather be in the audience than on the screen.
Jack Pierce, creator of Dracula, Wolf Man, and the Mummy. had a live and a half hour make-up job on his hands in transforming Glenn Strange into (he towering Frankenstein Monster for Universal’s HOUSE OF DRACULA.