Bride of Frankenstein
- NOT RATED
- Year:
- 1935
- 75 min
- 2,407 Views
How beautifully dramatic.
of nature at her worst without...
And we three,
I should like to think
that an irate Jehovah
lightning directly at my head,
the unbowed head of
George Gordon Lord Byron,
England's greatest sinner.
But I cannot flatter
myseIf to that extent.
Possibly those thunders
are for our dear Shelley,
heaven's applause for
England's greatest poet.
What of my Mary?
She is an angel.
You think so.
You hear?
Come, Mary.
Come and watch the storm.
You know how
lightning alarms me.
Shelley, darling, will you
please light these candles for me?
Oh, Mary, darling.
Astonishing creature.
l, Lord Byron?
Frightened of thunder,
fearful of the dark,
and yet you have
written a tale
that sent my blood
into icy creeps.
Look at her, Shelley.
Can you believe that bland and
lovely brow conceived of Frankenstein,
cadavers out of rifled graves?
lsn't it astonishing?
l don't know why
What do you expect?
Such an audience
needs something stronger
than a pretty
little love story.
So, why shouldn't
l write of monsters?
refused to publish the book.
He says his reading public
would be too shocked.
It will be published,
l think.
Then, darling, you will
have much to answer for.
The publishers did not see that my
purpose was to write a moral lesson
of the punishment that befell a
mortal man who dared to emulate God.
Well, whatever your purpose
may have been, my dear,
savoring each separate horror.
l roll them over
on my tongue.
Don't, Lord Byron. Don't
remind me of it tonight.
What a setting in that
churchyard, to begin with.
The sobbing women, the first
clod of earth on the coffin.
That was a pretty chill.
Frankenstein and the dwarf
stealing the body
out of its new-made grave,
cutting the hanged man
down from the gallows,
where he swung
creaking in the wind.
The cunning of Frankenstein
in his mountain laboratory,
taking dead men apart and
building up a human monster,
so fearful
and so horrible,
that only a haIf-crazed
brain could have devised.
And then the murders...
Henry Frankenstein himseIf
thrown from the top
of the burning mill
by the very monster
he had created.
And it was these fragile white
fingers that penned the nightmare.
Oh! You've made me
prick myseIf, Byron.
It's bleeding.
There, there.
l do think it a shame, Mary, to
end your story quite so suddenly.
That wasn't the end at all.
Would you like to hear
l feel like telling it.
It's the perfect night
for mystery and horror.
The air itseIf
is filled with monsters.
I'm all ears.
without, open up your pits of hell.
Well, then, imagine yourseIf
standing by the wreckage of the mill.
The fire is dying down.
Soon the bare skeleton of
the building will be visible,
the gaunt rafters
against the sky.
Well, I must say, that's the best
fire I ever saw in all me life!
What are you crying for?
It's terrible.
l know it's terrible,
but after all them murders,
and poor Mr. Henry
being brought home to die,
I'm glad to see the monster roasted
It's too good for him.
It's all the Devil's work,
quick, Marta, before he gets you.
Come along, come along.
It's all over.
Get back to your homes.
Go to sleep.
Whoo!
There it goes again! t ain't
burned out at all. There's more yet.
lsn't the monster dead yet?
It's high time every decent
man and wife was in bed.
That's his insides,
caught at last.
lnsides is always
the last to be consumed.
Move on. You've had enough
excitement for one night.
This strange man you call a monster is dead.
"Monster," indeed.
You may thank
your lucky stars
they sent for me to
safeguard life and property.
Why didn't you safeguard those
what lies drowned and murdered?
Come now. We want no rioting. No riots.
Who's rioting?
Move on, move on.
Good night, all,
and pleasant dreams.
Ah, pleasant dreams,
yourseIf.
Thinks he's everybody, just because
he's the burgomaster.
Poor Mr. Henry.
He was to have
been married today
to that lovely girl,
Elizabeth.
Cover him up.
Someone must break the news to the poor girl.
Ride as fast as you can to the castle
and tell the old Baron Frankenstein
we are bringing his son home.
Oh, dear.
Oh, shut up.
Come home, Hans.
The monster is dead now.
Nothing could be left
alive in that furnace.
Why do you stay here?
l want to see
with me own eyes.
Oh, Hans,
he must be dead.
And dead or alive, nothing can
bring our little Maria back to us.
If I can see
his blackened bones,
l can sleep at night.
Come back, Hans!
You will be
burned yourseIf!
Maria drowned to death
and you burned up.
What should I do then?
No!
Ah!
Hans! Hans, where are you?
Hans! Are you all right?
l hear you. Here.
Give me your hand, Hans.
Here.
Oh, heaven,
what is this?
Henry.
Tell me.
Oh, milady,
how can we tell you?
Bring him in.
Albert!
What do you want?
It's alive! The monster... It's alive!
Oh, shut up,
you old fool.
l saw it.
It ain't turned
to no skeleton at all.
It lived right
through the fire.
Go bite your tongue off.
We don't believe in ghosts.
Nobody'll believe me.
All right.
l wash my hands of it.
Let'em all be murdered in
their beds, for all of me. Hmph!
Speak to me, Henry.
Oh, milady,
l was foretold of this.
l was told
beware my wedding night.
Ahhh!
Oh! Look! Milady!
He's alive!
Henry, darling!
Elizabeth.
Oh, what a terrible wedding night!
You can go
to bed now, Mary.
You'll soon
be better, Henry.
As soon as you're strong
enough, we'll go away
and forget all this
horrible experience.
Forget?
If only I could forget, but
it's never out of my mind.
I've been cursed for delving
into the mysteries of life.
Perhaps death is sacred,
and I've profaned it.
For what a wonderful
vision it was!
first to give to the world
the secret that God
is so jealous of.
The formula for life.
Think of the power
to create a man.
And I did. I did it! L
created a man. And who knows?
ln time I could have
trained him to do my will.
l could have bred a race.
l might even have found
Henry, don't say those
things. Don't think them.
It's blasphemous
and wicked.
We are not meant
to know those things.
It may be that I'm intended
to know the secret of life.
It may be part
of the divine plan.
No. No! t's the Devil
that prompts you.
It's death, not life, that is in
it all and at the end of it all.
Listen, Henry.
While you have been lying
here, tossing in your delirium,
l couldn't sleep.
And when you raved
of your insane desire
from the dust of the dead,
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"Bride of Frankenstein" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 25 Nov. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/bride_of_frankenstein_4674>.
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