Mary Shelley's Frankenstein
- R
- Year:
- 1994
- 123 min
- 2,006 Views
TITLES UNFOLD IN BLACKNESS as we are lulled by the distant
flute-like sounds of a recorder. Overall the effect is
mournful and haunting, elegant and serene ...
... and we CRASH TO:
... a storm of inconceivable force and violence. Merciless
arctic winds whip the sea in a frenzy of thirty-foot swells.
This is the last place in God's creation that any human
being should be. And yet ...
...the prow of a three-masted ship rises massively before
us, looming from the darkness and chaos. it crashes upward
through a swell and slams back down again, plunging nose-
first into the trough. The sails on the forward mast are
still deployed. It's insane; in this weather they should be
stowed (as is already the case with masts 2 and 3).
Hurtling toward us. Rising and falling. Thundering through
the swells. And as she sweeps past CAMERA within a seeming
hairbreadth, we PAN with the ship and find ourselves ...
EXT - SHIP - NIGHT
... aboard the "Alexander Nevsky," along for the ride whether
we like it or not. There are men all around us, dark
screaming FIGURES glimpsed and half-glimpsed, heavy oilskin
clothes flapping in the gale. A GROUP OF MEN are in a life-
or-death tug of war
WALTON:
PULL, YOU BASTARDS! PULL!
Riiiiippp! All eyes turn skyward as the uppermost sail tears
loose, the heavy canvas shredding away in huge billowing
tatters. The jib-arm wrenches free and plummets toward us,
trailing rope and fabric. The men dive aside as the jib
smashes into the deck like an exploding bomb. Splintered
shards of wood cartwheel through the air like shrapnel.
Walton catches a glancing blow to the head and slams face-
down on the pitching deck.
GRIGORI, the first mate, scrambles to Walton's aid. Walton
shoves him off, pushes painfully to his knees. LIGHTNING
throws his face into a stark relief map of pain and fury:
blood is streaming from his hairline, freezing in his eyes,
staining his teeth. He gazes up at the mainsail, still
intact and straining against the wind. We hear a huge CRACK!
The base of the mast is starting to give.
(CONTINUED)
2
WALTON:
Cut the damn rigging free before we lose the
mast!
Long-handled axes are grabbed from their mounts. Frantic men
begin hacking at the ropes. Walton snatches an axe from a
passing crewman and elbows his way to the front. He attacks
a guy-rope with primal fury, CAMERA rising and falling with
the motion of his axe. Suddenly, a chilling cry from high
above:
LOOKOUT (O.S.)
IIIICEBEEEEERG!
THE CROW'S NEST (MAST #2)
The LOOKOUT is lashed to the mast by means of a safety rope
knotted at the chest. He points ahead.
WALTON and the others spin to look as A PANORAMIC SHOT OF
THE BARENTS SEA reveals a magnificent vista of storming
fury. The ship is heading into an enormous field of icebergs
dotting the ocean like boulders in a quarry, The Nevsky is
plying these waters like a man running pell-mell through a
mine field.
An iceberg passes massively and unexpectedly in the
foreground, rumbling within yards of the camera, wiping us
into darkness ...
EXT - NEVSKY - NIGHT
... and we wipe from darkness as a flapping piece of canvas
billows away to reveal 'Walton and the crew, gazing in
breathless horror as an iceberg looms from the gale before
them like a ghostly white mountain. Walton finds his voice:
WALTON:
HARD TO PORT!
THE PILOT fights to turn the wheel. Men rush to his aid,
throw their backs into it, straining to the limit. The wheel
is grudging, fighting them every inch of the way.
PUSH IN on Walton and the crew:
GRIGORI:
It's going to ram us.
WALTON:
It wouldn't dare.
(CONTINUED)
3
THE CROW'S NEST (MAST #2)
The lookout fumbles under his coat, grabs the rosary around
his neck, clutches the crucifix tightly in both hands. Face
white with terror. Breath coming in ragged gasps.
SHIP'S POV
Crashing through the swells. Rising and falling. Tilting the
world and the audience on its ear. iceberg looming. For a
brief moment we seem to be veering past. But then we swing
back in a final, churning, vertiginous plunge...
... and smack the ice.
VARIOUS QUICK-CUT ANGLES
God just hit the ship with an anvil. Mast #1 snaps at the
base with a thunderous CRACK and begins to topple in a
symphony of shattering wood and tangled rigging ...
The lookout on mast #2 is vaulted through the railing of the
crow's nest, screaming through the air, arms and legs
windmilling as he plummets head-first toward the deck below
... And is jerked to an abrupt stop by the safety line around
his chest, We hear another horrible CRACK ... the sound of
his back breaking ...
Men are sliding, tumbling, screaming. Mast #1 completes its
fall, slamming massively to the deck,. shattering a section
of the gunwale to splinters. Utter panic. Total chaos. .
Sheer mortal terror. And as the sequence builds to a final
brain-splitting crescendo of sound and fury, we
SMASH CUT TO:
ARCTIC - TWILIGHT
Total, stunning silence.
A glittering wasteland of ice. Breathlessly cold. Even the
sun seems frozen, barely hanging on the horizon. Pellets of
snow scour the permafrost like broken glass, driven by a
desolate arctic wind. It's as if Hell had erupted through
the floor of the Earth in the form of ice. Nothing could
survive here. Nothing.
SLOW PAN reveals a distant ship frozen in the ice, tilted at
a permanent list. Silent. We see no signs of life.
SUPE TITLE:
"The Arctic, 1839.VARIOUS LINGERING ANGLES provide ominous detail-shots of the
Nevsky
(CONTINUED)
4
A flap of frozen canvas creaks in the wind ...
The pilot's wheal is now a crystalline sculpture of ice. The
forward mast lies across the deck like a broken limb,
extending out over the ice on a tangle of rigging...
The ship's prow is smashed open above the water line ...
A familiar rosary lies broken on the deck. Beads scattered.
A tiny Christ figure lies with arms thrown wide, painted
eyes staring up at the sky through a thin sheet of ice ...
HIGH, HIGH ANGLE
From the top of mast #2. A breathtaking perspective of the
entire ship below, guaranteed to induce vertigo. The corpse
of the lookout is suspended below us at the end of the
frozen rope, His posture mimics the Christ figure: His arms
thrown wide, dead eyes staring up at the sky through a thin
sheet of ice. A ghastly still-life, the corpse twisting
ever-so-slightly on the wind, rope creaking ...
A SAILOR thrusts into frame swaying precariously in the
rigging, WIDEN to reveal TWO MORE MEN as they reach out with
long gaffing poles to snag the corpse.
EXT - NEVSKY - LOW ANGLE FROM ICE - TWILIGHT
Walton watches them reel the body in. ANGLE SHIFTS as he
turns, revealing the rest of the crew working desperately to
free the ship. Axes and picks rise and fall in waves,
slamming into the ice, throwing up frozen chips. The men are
near collapse, exhaustion carved in their faces. The dogs
are nearby, huskies and malamutes huddled in the snow.
Walton rejoins the men, rams his axe fiercely into the ice.
WALTON:
Put your backs into it!
SAILOR #1
What's the use? This godless ice stretches for
miles! Would you have us chow our way back to
England?
WALTON:
No. But we'll chop our way to the North Pole if
we have to. Inch by bloody inch.
GRIGORI:
You can't mean to go on! Our journey is ended!
The best we can hope for now is to get out of this
alive!
(CONTINUED)
5
SAILOR #2
Aye, if the ice ever lets us!
WALTON:
The ice will break. And when it does, we proceed
north ... as planned.
Cries of dismay from the men. Grigori thrusts his arm toward
the sky, pointing at the corpse on the mast.
GRIGORI:
At the cost of how many more lives?
He's interrupted by a long, chilling HOWL. The lead husky
rises to its feet, hackles up, HOWLING at some unseen thing
in the distance. The other dogs start rising around him,
joining in, staring off across the ice.
GRIGORI:
There's something out there.
The dogs are going berserk. The lead husky breaks free and
launches himself across the ice. The men scramble to
restrain the animals, but three more break away and take off
after their leader. Walton snatches up his rifle.
WALTON:
You five come with me! The rest stay with the
ship!
EXT - ARCTIC PANORAMA - TWILIGHT
The Nevsky in the distance. The dogs come howling across the
ice toward us. The men trail substantially behind.
BOOM DOWN to the icy boulders f.g. A massive hand comes
briefly to rest in one of the crags, ghastly gray skin
rippling with harsh ligaments and sinewy veins, brutal
surgical scars marring the wrist. A HUGE DARK FIGURE wipes
frame, fleeing into the rocks. The dogs come bounding past
in pursuit, snarling and slavering.
THE RUNNING MEN hear an INHUMAN HOWL rise amidst those of
the dogs. A vicious free-for-all echoes from the rocks.
Barking gives way to shrill squeals. An object is launched
from the crags, catapulted through the air in a high arc.
Some men slip and fall as the object slams to the ground
with tremendous impact before them ...
...and they find themselves staring in horror At the sight
of the lead dog. Silence now. Those who have fallen, rise.
Walton c*cks his rifle. The group proceeds, picks and axes
held ready, slowly skirting the rocks ...
(CONTINUED)
6
... and the massacre is revealed. Blood-stained ice. Dead,
mangled animals strewn about. One twitching survivor crawls
toward them on broken limbs, whining piteously, dragging its
entrails in a red smear.
GRIGORI:
Look.
They follow his gaze. Bloody tracks lead away from the
bodies, ascending the rocks. Most are smeared and vague ...
but one is clearly a bare human footprint. Several men
cross themselves. Walton shoulders the rifle, aims down at
the surviving dog. BLAM! A single bullet to the brain ends
its misery, punching a halo of blood onto the ice. The shot
echoes for miles.
WALTON:
Back to the ship.
EXT - NEVSKY - ESTABLISHING - NIGHT
Silhouetted against the aurora borealis. The horizon swirls
mysteriously with color and light. Distant slivers of
lightning kiss the earth. Men keep watch in furtive groups,
huddled against the cold, breath punching the air with
billows of vapor. A massive CRACKLING is heard. A YOUNG
SAILOR spins, jumpy.
OLD SAILOR:
Only the ice to starboard, boy.
YOUNG SAILOR:
Is it breaking up?
OLD SAILOR:
Just dancing on the current. It'll freeze even
tighter come next wind
CAMERA DRIFTS past to another group:
SAILOR #4
It was a polar bear. That's what I say.
SAILOR #5
Say all you want, but you weren't there. It left
human tracks.
SAILOR #6
No man could tear those dogs apart
SAILOR #5
No human. We've roused a demon from the ice.
(CONTINUED)
7
CLANG-CLANG! The men spin. A SAILOR on starboard has rung
the signal bell. The men race over, crowding the gunwale.
SAILOR:
Something. In the mist.
Walton appears from his cabin and crowds his way to the
front, rifle aimed at the sky. The men wait. Holding their
breath. Scanning the darkness.
AN APPARITION looms eerily from the mist on a creaking floe
of ice, silhouetted by the shifting light of the borealis.
The figure's pose is uncanny and weird: neither standing nor
kneeling, but something in between, arm dangling at its side
and lolling slowly with the motion of the current.
YOUNG SAILOR:
It's the demon! Shoot while you've a chance!
The Pilot lights the kerosene wick of a reflector box"
spotlight and swings it around. The beam seeks out the
specter and pins it in a dim circle of light ... revealing a
man collapsed on a dog sled, lashed to tiller upright
stanchions with frozen leather straps, Dead dogs lie in icy
heaps around him.
EXT - NEVSKY - NIGHT
The men venture onto the shifting ice with lanterns raised.
Grappling lines are unslung and thrown, the ice floe
snagged. Gaffs reach out, drawing it closer. Men clasp arms,
forming a human chain. Grigori is the first to reach the
motionless figure on the dog sled.
WALTON:
Dead?
Grigori cautiously eases his hand into the darkness of the
furred hood to search the neck for a pulse ...
... and the figure scares the s-hit out of him. With a
convulsive shudder and a gasping intake of breath, the hood
rises up, revealing a haggard face tortured white with
frost, beard frozen solid, eyes blazingly intelligent and
aware. Walton finds himself in an extended beat of eye
contact with VICTOR FRANKENSTEIN.
EXT - NEVSKY - ON DECK - NIGHT
A HOWLING WIND has kicked up, pelting the huddled sentries
with sleet. CAMERA TRACKS past, moving steadily toward the
dimly-glowing window of Walton's cabin ...
(CONTINUED)
8
INT - WALTON'S CABIN - NIGHT
... where we find Walton and Grigori in tense discussion:
GRIGORI:
Captain, I implore you. The men are frightened
and angry. They want your assurance.
WALTON:
They knew the risks when they signed on. I've
come too far to turn back now.
GRIGORI:
Then you run the danger of pushing them to
mutiny.
Walton pulls a pistol from his drawer and slams it flat on
WALTON:
(low, tight)
Let them try.
Grigori is taken aback. He hears a shifting of blankets and
glances to the captain's bed. Walton follows his look.
Frankenstein has awakened and is watching them.
Grigori exits, uneasy under Frankenstein's gaze. Walton
rises, retrieves a pot from the stove.
WALTON:
You're awake. I've prepared some broth. It'll
help restore you.
VICTOR:
(hoarse, faltering)
I'm ... dying.
Victor draws a hand from under the blanket and holds it
before his face. Fingers skeletal and black.
VICTOR:
Frostbite. Gangrene. A simple diagnosis.
WALTON:
Are you a physician?
VICTOR:
(faint smile)
How is it you come to be here?
(CONTINUED)
9
WALTON:
There's a startling question, coming from you.
(beat)
I'm captain of this ship. We sailed from
Archangel a month ago, seeking a passage to the
North Pole.
VICTOR:
Ah. An explorer.
WALTON:
Would-be. I'm plagued with my share of
difficulties just at the moment.
VICTOR:
I heard.
WALTON:
I can't say I blame them. We're trapped in this
ice and bedeviled by some sort of ... creature.
VICTOR:
Creature? A ... human like creature?
WALTON:
(stunned)
You know of it?
VICTOR:
Your men are right to be afraid.
WALTON:
Then explain it, whatever it is. It could save
the voyage. I've spent years planning this. My
entire fortune
VICTOR:
You'd persist at the cost of your own life? The
lives of your crew?
WALTON:
Lives are ephemeral. The knowledge we gain, the
achievements we leave behind ... those live on.
Victor reaches out with his blackened claw of a hand, pulls
him closer. Impassioned, intense:
VICTOR:
Do you share my madness?
WALTON:
Madness?
(CONTINUED)
10
CAMERA PUSHES SLOWLY on Victor's face ...
VICTOR:
We are kindred, you and I. Men of ambition. Let
me tell you all that I have lost in such pursuits.
I pray my story will come to mean for you all that
is capricious and evil in man.
WALTON:
(angry, frightened)
Who are you?
VICTOR:
(beat)
My name is Frankenstein
... and CAMERA proceeds into the bottomless depths of
Victor's staring eye, plunging us into:
TOTAL DARKNESS. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. A METRONOME fades up
before us.
WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S.)
Failure has no pride, Victor. You must try again.
LITTLE BOY (O.S.
Yes, Ma'am.
INT - GRAND BALLROOM - FRANKENSTEIN MMSION - DAY
We hear a HARPSICHORD begin playing as a WIDER ANGLE reveals
a huge, Magnificent room with vaulted ceilings thirty feet
high. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Hanging tapestries.
VICTOR sits at the harpsichord, a very serious 7 year-old in
his little gentleman's suit and stiff starched collar.
MRS. MORITZ, head of the housekeeping staff, conducts the
lesson. Her daughter JUSTINE, age 4, sits with her doll in a
huge wingback chair, making it dance to the music as she
listens ... but her eyes are on Victor. She adores him.
An enormous door swings open. Victor stops playing. His
PARENTS enter, ushering a somber and beautiful ELIZABETH,
age 6, across the vast expanse of floor. Victor slides off
FATHER:
Mrs. Moritz, would you and your daughter excuse
us?
(CONTINUED)
11
MRS. MORITZ
Of course, Doctor. Madam. Come along, Justine.
Bring your dolly.
Mrs. Moritz takes Justine's hand. Justine gazes back at
Victor and Elizabeth as her mother whisks her off.
MOTHER:
Victor. This is Elizabeth. She's coming to live
with us.
FATHER:
She has lost her parents to scarlet fever. She is
an orphan.
MOTHER:
You must think of her as your own sister. You
must look after her. And be kind to her.
Victor stares at Elizabeth. She returns the gaze evenly,
self-possessed and dignified even at this young age.
ARCTIC VICTOR (V.O.)
I loved her from the moment that I first saw her.
EXT - FRANKENSTEIN ESTATE - NIGHT
A MASSIVE BOLT OF LIGHTNING hammers from the sky, reducing a
centuries-old oak tree to smoldering ruin ...
INT - DOWNSTAIRS PARL0R - NIGHT
... while '(slaps them on the bed) ' gazes at the storm,
face pressed against a window, astonished at the sight.
Lightning throws seething shadows of the rain on his face.
his '... and Grigori breaks the surface again, rising slowly
And impossibly from the water. arms and legs windmill
against the air, propelled from below with nearly aulic
strength. He gazes down in shock at the massive fist
clutching his chest ... and the arm ' appears.
MOTHER:
Victor. Elizabeth is frightened by the storm. Go
comfort her.
We hear a CHILD SOBBING. Victor comes racing up the grand
staircase from below as LIGHTNING sends wild banister
shadows Littering. He caroms down the hall toward:
INT - ELIZABETH'S ROOM - NIGHT
Victor enters. Elizabeth is a tiny figure huddled in an
adult-size bed, gazing up with tear-streaked face at the
huge skylights in the vaulted ceiling, dreading the next
scary boom and flash. Victor approaches and whispers:
(CONTINUED)
12
VICTOR:
Don't cry, Elizabeth.
ELIZABETH:
(frightened)
Aren't you?
KA-BOOM! A LIGHTNING BOLT rips overhead, rattling the panes
of glass. Victor does find it scary ... but exhilarating.
VICTOR:
We'll build a fort. So the lightning can't get
us.
He races about the room, grabbing every pillow he can find
and hurling them to her. Big decorative pillows from the
chaise, bed pillows from the armoire ... they all come
flying. She giggles as a big one knocks her flat. Victor
scampers onto the bed with her. They pile the pillows around
and above, concealing themselves in a bulging heap of
cushions.
INSIDE THE PILLOW-FORT
Victor pokes his hand up, widening a space so they can still
see. Lightning glistens in their upturned eyes.
ELIZABETH:
Are you sure it can't hurt us?
VICTOR:
Nothing can. Not ever.
She seeks his hand. Fingers clasp. Comfort and strength.
TILT UP to the skylight. Rain drumming the glass ...
INT - MANSION - GRAND BALLROOM - DAY
Victor and Elizabeth are learning to waltz, their movements
stiff and awkward, childlike. MRS. MORITZ is at the
harpsichord. Justine sits with her dolly, watching.
MRS. MORITZ
You must lead, Victor. The lady will always look
to you for guidance, so your steps must be sure
and strong ...
VICTOR:
Mrs. Moritz.
MRS. MORITZ
... aaand, one-two-three, one-two- three, twirl-
two-three ...
JUSTINE:
Mama, can I dance with Victor?
(CONTINUED)
13
MRS. MORITZ
Nonsense, Justine. Hush. And now a sweeping arc
about the room! one- two-three, twirl-two-three
Victor and Elizabeth gamely work their way across the vast
room, tripping on each other's toes. They pass within inches
of CAMERA, bodies WIPING FRAME ...
INT - GRAND BALLROOM - DAY (TEN YEARS LATER)
... and they sweep from before our eyes, waltzing away from
camera to reveal Victor now 17, intense and handsome as he
approaches manhood. Elizabeth is a blossoming and graceful
beauty at 16. Mrs. Moritz is still conducting the lessons,
but the person at t
MRS. MORITZ
... one-two-three, twirl-two-three.. Excellent!
You'll be the envy of all the young ladies and
gentlemen!
They're certainly the envy of Justine, who gazes at Victor
as he sweeps Elizabeth around the room in his arms. She
isn't concentrating and fumbles on the keyboard. Her mother
throws her a look of reproval:
MRS. MORITZ
Justine. Surely you can maintain better time than
that.
JUSTINE:
Yes, Mama.
Flustered, she puts her attention back on the keyboard as
Victor and Elizabeth keep dancing, swirling fluidly about
the room, their attention only on each other.
INT - UPSTAIRS HALLWAY - NIGHT
A skylight above us. A storm is raging, rain drumming the
glass. We hear SCREAMING in the house. TILT DOWN to Victor
perched at the edge of a settee, seething with tension.
Waiting. Elizabeth is with him. She squeezes his arm, trying
to reassure him.
ELIZABETH:
She'll be all right.
Another SCREAM rips down the hallway. Justine comes
scurrying up the stairs, about to enter his parent's room
with a fresh load of sheets. Victor lunges to his feet and
intercepts, trying to push past her, but finds the doorway
implacably blocked by Mrs. Moritz.
(CONTINUED)
14
MRS. MORITZ
You can do nothing here. Wait downstairs.
He can see his mother in the dim kerosene light, writhing
and screaming on the bed, belly swollen and distended. His
father, sleeves rolled up, works feverishly to save her.
VICTOR:
Mother?
FATHER:
Victor, do as you're told!
Justine glances at Victor, longing to comfort him. She
squeezes past into the room. The door slams in his face. He
turns to Elizabeth, eyes brimming with terror ...
INT - PARENTS' BEDROOM - NIGHT
... as his mother falls back on the sweat-soaked sheets,
blowing air like a bellows, trying to give birth ...
EXT - MANSION - NIGHT
... while her SCREAMS mingle with the howling of the wind.
the stump of the long-dead oak tree pokes from the earth in
the foreground like a gravestone, lashed by the rain.
INT - DOWNSTAIRS PARLOR - NIGHT
VICTOR stares out the window at the raging storm. Elizabeth
appears at his side. He doesn't look at her.
VICTOR:
As a boy, I stood at this window and watched God
destroy our tree.
b.g screaming stops, Victor and Elizabeth turn, gazing up
the grand staircase. The sudden silence is even more
frightening. The FAINT CRY of a newborn infant drifts down
A door opens upstairs, throwing a spill of light. Victor's
father appears in silhouette, comes down the stairs toward
them. He pauses halfway down, unable to continue.
VICTOR:
Father?
A FLASH OF LIGHTNING floods the room, revealing Victor's
father on the staircase. Face haggard. Eyes hollow. Clothes
spattered with blood. Hands glistening wetly red.
ELIZABETH:
Oh God.
The blood.
(CONTINUED)
15
Father sits down shakily on a step. Victor and Elizabeth
race up the stairs and pause before him.
FATHER:
I did everything I could.
Victor lets out a sob of anguish. Elizabeth begins to cry.
Father gathers them into his arms.
EXT - FRANKENSTEIN ESTATE - CEMETERY - DAY
A BABY CARRIAGE stands amidst leaning gravestones, gothic
and ornate, a chill breeze billowing the lace.
A PRIEST recites a Latin burial mass. DOZENS OF MOURNERS are
gathered before the Frankenstein family mausoleum ... an
imposing edifice of stone and spidery wrought-iron, its
steepled roof crowned by a massive granite crucifix.
A sleek black casket lies atop the bier, ringed with flowers
and sorrow. The trees are windswept and bare, branches stark
against a steely gray sky. Victor and Elizabeth stand apart
from the others, staring at the casket. Softly:
VICTOR:
How could all my father's knowledge and skill
fail to save her?
ELIZABETH:
It's not ours to decide. All that live must die.
It's God's will.
Victor raises a grim look at the huge crucifix atop the
mausoleum. Christ returns his gaze with blank stone eyes
VICTOR:
What kind of God is He to will this?
ELIZABETH:
She was mother to me as well. But ours is the job
of the living. It's up to us now to hold this
family together. We must think of Father and be
strong for him.
(beat)
I cannot do that alone.
VICTOR:
God took her from us.
ELIZABETH:
He left a beautiful gift in her place. A baby
boy. To cherish and love as our very own. Your
brother
(CONTINUED)
16
Victor glances at the baby carriage. He seeks her hand.
Their fingers clasp. Comfort and strength.
VICTOR:
Our brother.
The baby starts CRYING as the casket is lowered, its thin
voice carried on the wind ...
EXT - MEADOW - DAY
A gorgeous, sun-dappled day. Tall grass waving on the
breeze. Butterflies skittering. WILLIAM, 11 months-old,
toddles into view. He doesn't get far. PLOP! Down he goes,
right on his ass. His face scrunches up in surprise and he
bursts into tears.
Elizabeth hurries over and scoops him up, cradling and
comforting him. Victor rises from a picnic blanket to join
them. Nanny Justine looks up from her task of laying out the
silverware and food.
JUSTINE:
Poor William! What indignant tears!
ELIZABETH:
There, there ... shhh ...
Victor takes the baby and swoops him high in the air. The
child shrieks and wails, held aloft.
ELIZABETH:
Victor, have a care! You'll make him dizzy!
VICTOR:
The world is a dizzying place.
She tries to reclaim the baby. Victor feints, keeping Willie
out of reach. Elizabeth grows crosser:
ELIZABETH:
Oh, do give him here! He needs to be comforted
and held!
VICTOR:
He needs to vent his outrage to the skies! Make
yourself heard, Willie! Learning to walk is not an
easy thing! Why should it be so?
Elizabeth is exasperated to realize that the baby has begun
to laugh. She glares at both of them. Men.
(CONTINUED)
17
ELIZABETH:
That's the nature of all progress, William. Don't
let your brother sway you otherwise.
JUSTINE:
Quite right!
Victor cradles Willie as if to shield his delicate ears. He
peers at Elizabeth with mock-grave suspicion and speaks to
the baby sotto-voce, in deepest confidence, man-to-man:
VICTOR:
Don't listen, Willie. Progress is a feast to be
consumed. Women would have you believe you must
walk before you can run. or run before you can
waltz!
ELIZABETH:
(laughing)
Give me that child before you fill his head with
drivel!
Victor waltzes the baby in circles. Elizabeth stalks them.
VICTOR:
Devil take walking, ladies! My brother shall
learn to waltz!
He grabs her by the waist, pulls her into it. There's no use
resisting. She succumbs and they dance with the baby between
them. Justine is gasping with laughter.
JUSTINE:
Elizabeth, really! He's quite mad!
ELIZABETH:
Scandalous! What would your dear mother say?
JUSTINE:
(thinks a beat)
one-two-three, one-two-three, twirl-two-three ...
Laughing, Victor and Elizabeth waltz little William around
in a sweeping arc. They pass within inches of the CAMERA,
INT - GRAND BALLROOM - NIGHT (6 YEARS LATER)
... and 'Come now. Magnus? Agrippa? Next thing you know,
you''ll be teaching toadstools to speak.' and CREATURE sweep
from before our eyes to reveal the grand ballroom ablaze
with candlelight and spectacle as a HUNDRED DANCERS swirl
about the floor in a
(CONTINUED)
18
breathtaking waltz to the music of a full string ensemble
(NOTE:
The music here should be our movie's distinctiveWALTZ/LOVE THEME, which will reoccur later.)
Victor and Elizabeth dance magnificently, room spinning
about them in a blur. Now 24, he's in the prime of manhood.
Elizabeth, 23, is a drop-dead beauty radiating poise and
intelligence. They're so right for each other, so beautiful
together, your heart could break just looking at them.
Justine, now 21, has blossomed into a beauty herself. She's
at the sidelines, wearing a lovely gown, wishing someone
would ask her to dance. William, now 7, scampers to her
side. She stoops to straighten his collar and smooth back
his hair. Waltzing couples swirl past them.
WILLIE:
Auntie Justine, Papa said I could have a sweet.
JUSTINE:
You can. But not before dinner.
The music ends amidst applause. The men bow to the ladies,
the ladies curtsy in return. Victor escorts Elizabeth off
the dance floor. Elizabeth fans herself, flushed and happy.
JUSTINE:
You dance so beautifully together.
ELIZABETH:
And you look so lovely.
They share a sisterly hug and a radiant smile. The orchestra
recommences. The music is lush. Justine looks hopefully to
Victor, keeping her tone light:
JUSTINE:
Victor? Spare me one dance?
Elizabeth catches Victor's eye.
ELIZABETH:
Go on, ask her. Please. I'm quite out of breath,
Victor gallantly offers his arm. Justine takes it, lighting
up as he escorts her onto the dance floor ...
...and they begin to dance. She's glowing. This is a big
moment for her. But they've hardly begun, when...
...ting-ting-ting, Victor's father is tapping a champagne
glass with a knife. The dancers stop. The orchestra falls
silent. Justine hides her disappointment as servants pass
among the guests with glasses of champagne.
(CONTINUED)
19
FATHER:
My friends, fatherly pride won't allow this
occasion to pass without my raising a toast.
Shouts of assent. Victor is grabbed by his friends and
dragged forward, a glass of champagne shoved in his hands
FATHER:
To Victor. My son. Who read every medical book in
my library by age thirteen ... and then re-read
them, which seemed excessive even to me.
(the guests ROAR with laughter)
Drape yourself in glory, my boy. Study well.
When you return, you return a man of medicine. I
will then be honored to call you "colleague."
VICTOR:
But never your equal.
FATHER:
No. You'll surpass me.
Applause and roars of approval. The drinks are tossed back.
Victor is jostled with backslaps and handshakes.
EXT - MANSION -'NIGHT
Music and warm light spill from the windows. A COUPLE eases
through a French door and come racing across the lawn,
giggling and hushing each other. They take refuge under a
tree, revealing their faces to the moonlight: Victor and
Elizabeth. She leans against the trunk to catch her breath.
ELIZABETH:
Smell the air. Wonderful.
VICTOR:
Quite a send-off, isn't it?
ELIZABETH:
Father's so proud.
VICTOR:
And you?
ELIZABETH Prouder still. You'll be the handsomest student
there.
VICTOR:
I'll have to do better than that.
(CONTINUED)
20
ELIZABETH:
You will.
(searches his eyes)
What do you want, Victor?
VICTOR:
To be the best there ever was. To push our
knowledge beyond our dreams ... to eradicate
disease and pestilence ... to purge mankind of
ignorance and fear ...
He's so serious, she can't help laugh.
VICTOR:
I'm not mad.
She smiles, smoothes a lock of hair gently off his forehead.
ELIZABETH:
No. Just very earnest. And very dear.
An extended moment. Unspoken words flowing between them.
Victor leans forward and kisses her. Her eyes widen
slightly. So do his. Shared excitement, gentle and sexy
beyond belief. They pause, draw back, searching each other's
eyes. He whispers:
VICTOR:
I've loved you all my life
ELIZABETH:
All my life live known.
They kiss again. A breath. A shiver.
VICTOR:
This feels ... incestuous.
ELIZABETH:
is that what makes it so delicious?
She brushes her lips against his. Gentle as a sigh.
ELIZABETH:
Brother and sister still?
VICTOR:
I wish to be your husband.
ELIZABETH:
I wish to be your wife.
(CONTINUED)
21
VICTOR:
Then come with me to Ingolstadt. Marry me now.
ELIZABETH:
If only I could. But one of us must stay.
Father's not strong. Willie's just a child. Who
can look after them in your absence? Who can run
the estate?
VICTOR:
Only you
ELIZABETH:
I will be here when you return,
Another kiss. Turning lustful and steamy. They melt into
each other, sinking down, bodies pressing and minds afire.
These people are hot for each other. They stop, stunned at
the intensity. He lays his head to her breast. Their fingers
clasp. She whispers her secret:
ELIZABETH:
My head is spinning. I want to give myself to
you.
He raises his head. She meets his gaze evenly
ELIZABETH:
If we're to be married, must we wait?
He touches her face. Fingertips tracing downward, gentle and
reverent, brushing the contours of her bosom at the edge of
her bodice. She shivers. Closes her eyes. Lays her hand over
his. Guiding his touch.
VICTOR:
You make me weak.
ELIZABETH:
Not as weak as I.
She raises his hand to her mouth. Brushing his fingertips
with her lips. Wrestling with desire. Their eyes meet.
ELIZABETH:
Our decision. Together.
VICTOR:
Your decision. For us,
ELIZABETH:
(hesitates)
I give you my soul ...
(CONTINUED)
22
VICTOR:
(nods)
... until our wedding night. When our bodies will
join.
ELIZABETH:
Victor. I love you,
VICTOR:
Elizabeth. My more than sister.
They kiss again. Gently ...
EXT - FRANKENSTEIN ESTATE - CEMETERY - DAWN
A misty gray dawn. Victor is kneeling at a gravestone,
observing a moment of silence. His saddled horse is tethered
nearby. Softly:
VICTOR:
I'll make you so proud, Mother.
He lays a small sprig of flowers on the grave, rises and
walks toward his horse.
EXT - MANSION - MORNING
Overcast and chill. An open carriage stands loaded. The
family and household staff have turned out. Victor stands
ready to go. Father pulls him into a back-slapping embrace.
FATHER:
Write to us often.
Victor moves on to Justine, takes her hand.
VICTOR:
(she smiles)
Someday we shall.
Next is William. The little boy stands stiffly, tears on his
face, trying to be brave. Victor kneels and whispers:
VICTOR:
The others will look to you while I'm gone,
Willie. Be strong.
The boy nods miserably, throws his arms around Victor's
neck. Last comes Elizabeth. She and Victor regard each
other, sharing the secret of last night. A faint smile plays
at the corners of her mouth. He kisses her cheek.
VICTOR:
Elizabeth.
(CONTINUED)
23
He mounts the carriage. CLAUDE snaps the reins and lurches
away, speeding Victor off to his future. Victor turns back
for a final look at the home and family he loves so much.
William runs after him until he's gone from sight ...
DISSOLVE TO:
INGOLSTADT - ESTABLISHING ANGLES - DAY
High white clouds in a blazing blue sky. Church steeples
rising among the rooftops. Beautiful.
BOARDING HOUSE - DAY
FRAU BRACH trudges heavily up a long, steep, narrow flight
of stairs with Victor teetering uneasily behind.
FRAU BRACH:
No real rooms left. All we've got is attic space.
No one ever wants the attic space ...
ATTIC SPACE/GARRET - DAY
She leads him into an immensely long space running a twisted
path the entire length of the building; various levels and
areas unhindered by wall separation, massive vaulted beams
crisscrossing as understructure to the roof. Daylight
filters dimly through dozens of dormer windows and skylights
coated with grime. Nooks and crannies abound.
VICTOR:
This will do nicely.
UNIVERSITY - DAY
A monumental structure of brick. A BELL TOWER TOLLS. Dead
leaves scurry across the lawn.
LECTURE HALL - DAY
PROFESSOR KREMPE, a squat little man, paces before the
packed galleries of eager young STUDENTS.
KREMPE:
In science, the letter of fact is the letter of
law. Our pursuit is as dogmatic as any religious
precept. Think of yourselves as disciples of a
strict and hallowed sect. Someday you may be
priests ... but only if you learn the scripture
chapter and verse.
(off their laughter)
Any questions?
(CONTINUED)
24
VICTOR:
(hand shoots up)
But surely, Professor, you don't intend we
disregard the more ... philosophical works.
KREMPE:
Philosophical?
VICTOR:
Those which stir the imagination as well as the
intellect. Paracelsus, for one.
This reference is lost on all but a few. At the faculty
table:
PROFESSOR WALDMAN peers up at Victor, adjusting theglasses on his nose. Up among the students: HENRY CLERVAL
leans out and shoots an amused look in Victor's direction.
SCHILLER catches Henry's look and rolls his eyes.
KREMPE:
Paracelsus?
VICTOR:
Or Albertus Magnus. Cornelius Agrippa ...
KREMPE:
What is your name?
VICTOR:
Victor Frankenstein, sir.
(no response)
Of Geneva
KREMPE:
Of Geneva.
(beat)
Tell me, Mr. Frankenstein of Geneva. Do you wish
to study medicine? Or mysticism?
Titters sweep the room. Krempe remains staunchly unamused:
KREMPE:
Those of you unfamiliar with Mr. Frankenstein's
suggested reading list ... thankfully, that would
be most of you ... would be well advised to avoid
it. Here at Ingolstadt, we concern ourselves with
immutable reality...
(specific to Victor)
...not the ravings of lunatics and alchemists
hundreds of years in their graves. Understood?
(CONTINUED)
25
Victor is flushed and humiliated. Held like to say more, but
wisely swallows his anger and nods.
KREMPE:
I am relieved. Are there any relevant questions?
(there are none)
Lecture hall dismissed.
EXT - UNIVERSITY - DAY
Victor exits wearing a distinctive black greatcoat, fuming
over the exchange with Krempe. He strides across the lawn,
Henry Clerval races up behind him and falls casually in
step. Victor glances over. Henry nods pleasantly, as if held
been there all along. Victor responds with a curt nod and
resumes his straight-ahead demeanor. They walk in silence,
just two guys heading in the same direction.
Henry can't help it; he snickers loudly to himself. Victor
shoots him a sharp look. Henry's smirk vanishes, replaced
with blank innocence. Did somebody snicker?
HENRY:
I was just clearing my throat.
VICTOR:
Very well then.
They continue walking. Silence thick. Finally:
HENRY:
You know, you're quite mad.
Victor stops. Turns
VICTOR:
(low, measured)
I am not mad.
HENRY:
(matching Victor's tone)
As a march hare.
Henry's expression betrays nothing ... but perhaps there's a
trace of amusement in his eyes?
VICTOR:
Are you having me on?
HENRY:
Of course I am. It pays to humor the insane.
(CONTINUED)
26
Beat. Victor smiles. Henry grins, offers his hand. takes it.
HENRY:
Henry Clerval.
VICTOR:
Victor, Victor Frankenstein.
HENRY:
I know. You have a way of making an impression.
INT - GASTHOF - DUSK
The tavern is packed with students and noise. Beer and food
served at a frantic pace. We find Victor and Henry at a
small table, tearing into sausages and cheese.
VICTOR:
HENRY:
Come now. Magnus? Agrippa? Next thing you know,
you'll be teaching toadstools to speak.
Schiller enters with FRIENDS. They pause at Victor's table
SCHILLER:
if it isn't the sorcerer. Found yourself an
apprentice?
VICTOR:
I'm afraid I rejected his application. He merely
dabbles
HENRY:
Dilettantes need not apply. What about you?
Schiller, isn't it?
SCHILLER:
Von Schiller. I'm interested in real medicine.
Treating the sick
HENRY:
Really? I myself find sick people rather
revolting.
(off their looks)
I'm here to secure my degree with a minimum of
fuss and hard work that I might settle into a life
of privilege treating rich old ladies with gout
and dallying with their daughters.
(CONTINUED)
27
SCHILLER:
You two disgust me.
Schiller and his friends stalk off.
EXT - INGOLSTADT - DUSK
LONG LENS magnificently compresses buildings and steeples,
distant hills and drizzly sky. Victor wears his greatcoat as
he and Henry walk along a twisty cobblestone street.
VICTOR:
Rich old ladies and their daughters?
HENRY:
Can you think of a better reason?
VICTOR:
Quite a few.
HENRY:
Do me a favor then ...
(claps his shoulder)
... keep them to yourself.
Victor takes a shocked beat and bursts into laughter,
Waldman, in sinock, addresses a GROUP OF STUDENTS from
across morgue slab. He throws a sheet back to reveal a
corpse dissected to reveal the inner workings. The others
crowd for a closer look. Victor glances to Henry, who leans
back and rolls his eyes in utter disgust.
INT - VICTOR'S GARRET - DAY
PUSHING SLOWLY IN on Victor sitting at a tall dormer window,
writing a letter with quill and ink. It's raining outside.
The garret is tidied.
EXT - RYE FIELDS - FRANKENSTEIN ESTATE - LATE DAY
WORKERS are harvesting for miles around. PAN to Elizabeth
and Claude examining the sheaves on a wagon. She cracks the
grain and tastes it, glances to Claude. He smiles and nods.
CLAUDE:
It's turning out to be a good year.
ELIZABETH:
Let's return a tenth of the crop to the tenants.
(off his look)
They had a hard winter.
(CONTINUED)
28
CLAUDE:
Not even your father would be that generous.
ELIZABETH:
Then there's no need to tell him, is there?
Claude grins and motions to his MEN. They resume loading the
sheaves as a STABLEBOY rides up:
STABLEBOY:
Miss! The mail arrived! There's one from Master
Victor!
INT - FRANKENSTEIN PARLOR - NIGHT
We find the family gathered around the fire as Elizabeth
reads Victor's letter aloud:
ELIZABETH:
... and not a day goes by that I do not cherish
your faces in my mind's eye or ache to see you all
again. Be assured that I am with you in spirit,
and you are never far from my thoughts. I remain,
as always, your loving and devoted Victor. P.S.
She pauses, reading ahead.
INSERT OF LETTER
The P.S. reads:
"Elizabeth ... I am holding our vow preciousin my heart."
ELIZABETH:
glances up at their expectant faces.
WILLIE:
What does it say?
ELIZABETH:
It says, give Willie an extra big hug for me.
WILLIAM:
(beaming)
Read it again?
She smiles, rearranges the pages as we
FADE TO:
29
INT - UNIVERSITY HALLWAY - DAY
A classroom door. SHOUTING from within:
VICTOR (O.S.)
That's no excuse for being a pompous ass!
Victor storms out with Krempe at his heels. Krempe pauses in
the doorway, red-faced, bellowing after him:
KREMPE:
I'll see you thrown out of this university! I'll
go to the dean himself! Take me at my word,
Frankenstein! The dean himself!
Classroom doors are opening, faces peering out. Waldman
among them. Victor keeps going, doesn't look back.
INT - GASTHOF - NIGHT
Victor and Henry slouched at their regular table writes in
his thick, well-worn leather journal.
HENRY:
The entire school heard it. It wasn't something
one could miss.
VICTOR:
You're a comfort to me, Henry.
HENRY:
What now? Writing about it in your journal won't
help.
VICTOR:
(quietly)
It's a letter to my father.
Henry falls silent. Victor closes the journal, winds it
secure with its leather thong, jams it deep in the outer
pocket of his greatcoat. Brooding. The bell above the door
JINGLES. A gust of wind sweeps in. They glance up. Professor
Waldman enters, dapper and soft- spoken, impeccably
courteous. He murmurs a pleasantry to the INNKEEPER and
drifts over to Victor's table.
VICTOR:
Professor Waldman.
WALDMAN:
(takes a seat)
Victor, explain yourself.
(CONTINUED)
30
VICTOR:
Krempe has a way of provoking my temper.
WALDMAN:
You have a way of provoking his.
(beat)
I've been watching you. You seem impatient with
your studies.
VICTOR:
To say the least. I came here to expand my mind,
but honest inquiry seems strangled at every turn.
All we do is cling to the old knowledge instead of
seeking the new.
WALDMAN:
VICTOR:
No, I embrace it ... as something to be used or
discarded as we advance the boundaries of what is
known.
HENRY:
(mutters to Waldman)
Now you've got him started.
VICTOR:
These are exciting times, Henry. We're entering
an era of amazing breakthroughs. Look at Edward
Jenner. He wasn't content to bleed people with
leeches, he pioneered a new frontier of thought
HENRY:
... yes, and thanks to him, smallpox has been
virtually eliminated. I've heard this speech
before.
VICTOR:
But you haven't listened, Never in history has so
much seemed possible. We're on the verge of
answers undreamt of ... but only if we have the
courage to ask the questions,
WALDMAN:
I understand your frustration. I was young once
myself.
(beat)
Walk me home. Something I'd like to show you.
(CONTINUED)
31
INT - WALDMAN'S HOME - WORKSHOP - NIGHT
The gaslights come up with a SOFT HISS. The first thing
Victor and Henry notice is an artist's nook situated
adjacent to big windows where the light would be best during
the day. Easels are lined with in-progress work on a variety
of subjects, everything from landscapes to anatomical
studies, all quite excellent.
The rest of the place is a laboratory crammed floor-to-
rafter with arcane equipment. Taking off his coat and
rolling up his sleeves, Waldman leads Victor and Henry down
rows of tables crammed with experiments and clutter.
WALDMAN:
You know for thousands of years the Chinese have
based their medical science on the belief that the
human body is a chemical engine run by
electricity? They say we all contain streams of
energy which flow through us like currents in the
ocean, or rivers in the earth.
They arrive at a table. Waldman roots through a tray of
knickknacks, holds up an acupuncture needle.
WALDMAN:
Their doctors treat patients by inserting needles
like these into the flesh at various key points to
manipulate these electric streams.
He directs their attention to an ancient Chinese silk on the
wall. It depicts the human body from front and side angles.
Acupuncture points are clearly marked.
VICTOR:
Preposterous.
WALDMAN:
I once saw it done, as a boy in Canton. My
parents were missionaries. The cure was nothing
short of miraculous.
(off their looks)
I've never forgotten it. Been fascinated ever
since.
HENRY:
It smacks of magic.
Waldman slides forth a steel pan and uncovers it to reveal
an enormous dead toad in dissection. Copper mounting pins
trail wires to a small panel of switches. The switches, in
turn, are connected to a series of galvanic batteries.
(CONTINUED)
32
Waldman starts throwing switches. Victor and Henry jump as
the toad convulses with motion. They watch, stunned, as
Waldman puts the toad through its paces: legs kick, feet
flex, mouth opens and closes, lungs breathe.
WALDMAN:
Magic. seems alive, doesn't it?
Waldman shuts the thing down, strips off his gloves, his arm
at the array of wires and batteries.
WALDMAN:
Electricity.
VICTOR:
It's utterly fantastic! This is the sort of thing
I'm talking about! We should be learning this!
WALDMAN:
Why? God alone knows what it means. Until it has
proven value, it's nothing more than a ghoulish
parlor trick. Hardly fit for the classroom.
VICTOR:
But the possibilities Combining ancient knowledge
with new? Something like this could change our
fundamental views!
WALDMAN:
It is a thrilling direction to explore. Thrilling
and dangerous.
(off his look)
Nature can be wonderful and terrible. Science is
not a realm for the reckless; it needs a
conscience. we must proceed cautiously. Assess as
we go.
(drapes the toad)
What I do on my own time is my own business. The
same holds true for you. You wish to expand your
mind? Fine, do so. You can even join me here, if
you like. But not at the expense of your normal
studies.
VICTOR:
I doubt that decision is still mine to make.
WALDMAN:
(waves)
Nonsense. Tonight you will draft an apology to
Professor Krempe...
(CONTINUED)
33
Victor starts to object, but Waldman overrides him with a
stern gesture for silence. Listen.
WALDMAN:
"...a sincere and heartfelt apology which you will
then read aloud to him before the assembled
student body and faculty.
VICTOR:
Why?
WALDMAN:
(draws close)
our profession needs talent like yours. Destroy
your career over an issue of pride? what a waste.
Waldman hands him the acupuncture needle. A gift. Victor
studies it, fascinated.
WALDMAN:
Go home, Victor. Write the letter,
DOLLYING VICTOR IN A SWW 360: He stands before the students
and faculty, reading his apology.
VICTOR:
... and I further wish to extend my sincerest
regrets to Professor Krempe for my display. My
behavior toward him was both rash and inexcusable
Up in the gallery, Krempe nods grudgingly to himself.
INT - FRANKENSTEIN MANSION - DUSK
Exquisite silverware goes CLINKING SOFTLY onto polished wood
as:
ELIZABETH (O.S.)
(laughing)
I knew held get himself in trouble.
TILT UP to reveal the expansive dinner table being set for
guests. KITCHEN STAFF are to-ing and fro-ing. Elizabeth
splits her attention between supervising and reading
Victor's letter, while Justine busies herself with a flower
arrangement. Willie gets underfoot. Father just sits.
JUSTINE:
Must've been a terrible row.
(CONTINUED)
34
ELIZABETH:
He was almost expelled for calling one of his
professors a "pompous ...
(glances to Willie)
... fellow.,,
FATHER:
He always was opinionated.
ELIZABETH:
(reads on, laughs)
He set things right with a proper apology ... and
now they've put him in charge of dissection lab!
WILLIE:
What's that?
FATHER:
That's where they cut things open and peer about
inside.
WILLIE:
Things? What sort of things?
Father is about to press on with the gory details, but
Elizabeth freezes him with a glance.
ELIZABETH:
It's far too ghoulish for your young ears.
The old man throws Willie a look. We'll talk later.
ELIZABETH:
The point is, your brother is a brilliant student
well on his way to becoming the finest-and most
compassionate doctor ever ...
INT - WALDMM'S WORKSHOP - NIGHT
A DISSECTED DOG convulses through its electronically-
induced paces. Kicking. Twitching. Tasting the air with its
dead tongue. TILT UP to reveal Victor at the switch.
Waldman leans close to observe. Softly:
WALDMAN:
Re-configure the leads?
VICTOR:
Numbers four and twelve directly into the nervous
system?
Waldman nods.
WALDMAN:
Worth a try.
(CONTINUED)
35
INT -.AUTOPSY ROOM - DAY
With Waldman at his side and Henry providing the tools as
needed, Victor instructs a freshman class in the internal
workings of a dissected corpse. Professor Krempe observes
from a distance.
VICTOR:
... and the medulla oblongata is the transition
between the spinal cord and the two parts I've
already named ... cerebrum and cerebellum. Any
(glances around, smiles)
All of you, from the look of it. We'll resume
your torture tomorrow.
He waves them dismissed. They laugh and exit, relieved.
Waldman squeezes Victor's elbow. Well done. Victor stiffens
at Krempe's approach.
KREMPE:
You seem to be adapting well to the approved
curriculum.
VICTOR:
Despite the lack of challenge.
Krempe reddens, but says nothing. He gives Waldman a curt
nod and walks off.
WALDMAN:
Victor. He was trying to be gracious.
VICTOR:
The strain was evident
HENRY:
Come now, you must take some satisfaction. You've
risen to the top of your class. A position of
prominence and regard.
Victor weighs this, glances at both of them, smiles.
VICTOR:
What keeps me going are my friends.
He throws his arm around Henry's neck, pulls him into an
affectionate headlock. Henry struggles and laughs:
HENRY:
Leave off!
(CONTINUED)
36
JEWELER'S SHOP - DAY
Victor is gazing with reverence at a gorgeous oval locket
dangled before him by a smiling JEWELER. He glances to Henry
for an opinion.
HENRY:
Your Elizabeth must be quite a treasure, Victor
(pointedly to jeweler)
The jeweler's smile goes frosty.
WALDMAN'S WORKSHOP - DAY
TIGHT ANGLE ON the locket lying open against canvas,
dangling from an easel frame. TILT DOWN to reveal a
magnificent miniature oil portrait of Victor in progress, no
more than three inches high within its penciled oval.
Waldman paints with an extraordinarily delicate touch,
jeweler's glasses riding low on his nose, eyes unnaturally
large behind the magnifying lenses. Victor sits patiently
for the portrait, suffused with daylight.
Henry leans in over Waldman's shoulder, studying the
portrait. Waldman stiffens a bit, aware of his presence. He
clearly hates people looking over his shoulder.
HENRY:
(deadpan)
Shouldn't the nose be above the mouth?
Waldman heaves a long-suffering sigh. He abruptly jabs his
brush at Henry's nose, daubing it with paint. Dignity upheld
he resumes his careful work as Victor laughs.
INT - WALDMAN'S HOUSE - DINING ROOM - NIGHT
Victor, Waldman, and Henry are gathered around the remains
of a meal, laughing uproariously, enjoying one another's
company. Cigars are lit, wine is flowing. Conversation is
fast and loose, intense and passionate:
WALDMAN:
I'm quite serious. Look at all the charity and
clinic work we do. Up until thirty years ago, the
concept of vaccine was unheard of.
HENRY:
You're saying all disease will eventually be
eradicated?
(CONTINUED)
37
WALDMAN:
I'm convinced. Not by treating symptoms, but by
diving nature's most jealously-guarded secrets.
HENRY:
(turning serious)
Do you foresee this happening in our lifetimes?
WALDMAN:
No. But someday.
HENRY:
Thank goodness. We'd be out of work
A HOWL OF OUTRAGE AND LAUGHTER. Victor flings his napkin in
Henry's face.
VICTOR:
HENRY:
(laughing)
Somebody has to!
Victor raises his wine glass. The others join. A toast.
VICTOR:
I tell you what we need, my friends. Forget the
symptoms and diseases. What we need is a vaccine
for death itself.
WALDMAN:
(laughter)
Oh, now you have gone too far, There's only one
God, Victor.
HENRY:
(raises his glass)
And here's to Him. Everything in moderation,
Frankenstein.
VICTOR:
(grins)
Nothing in moderation, Clerval.
CAMERA, TRACKS the gritty reality of a big-city poor house,
crammed with society's dregs: the poor, the uneducated,
wailing babies, stampeding children. Absolutely jangling
with noise and confusion ... loud and stifling ... people
getting eye-ear-nose-throat exams ... being vaccinated ...
(CONTINUED)
38
The "doctors" in attendance are all Ingolstadt STUDENTS
performing community service, none of whom look like they're
enjoying it. Schiller looks particularly harried
We find Victor and Henry giving out vaccinations. They keep
glancing over their shoulders at Waldman as he gets further
embroiled in a no-win argument with a wiry, ferret-faced MAN
terrified about getting his vaccination:
MAN:
Yer not stickin' it in me! Got pox in it, I hear
tell!
FAT WOMAN:
Pox? They givin' us pox?
Ripples of panic spread. Waldman is as tense and clipped as
we've ever seen him, valiantly trying to control his temper
amidst the surrounding cacophony and ad-lib dialogue:
WALDMAN:
No, it's not pox, it's a vaccine ...
FAT WOMAN:
Vaca-what?
WALDMAN:
... vaccine, from the Latin vacca, meaning cow
(glances at her girth)
... or vaccinia, meaning cowpox ...
MAN:
I told you there was pox in it I
WALDMAN:
... no, no, cowpox in a minute quantity,
perfectly harmless, gives you a natural immunity
to small ox, which is the point of this whole
bloody exercise ...
Victor and Henry are pausing work. Concerned. Drifting
closer. The ferret-faced man is cornered.
MAN:
You doctors kill people! I don' care what you
say, you ain't stickin' it in me!
WALDMAN:
I most assuredly am! It prevents disease and it's
the law! Why am I explaining myself? Somebody
restrain this damn fool!
(CONTINUED)
39
It happens this fast: There's an innocuous blur of motion as
the man seems to tap Waldman lightly in the stomach, then he
darts away, slamming past Victor and Henry. Victor looks
after him running away, hears something clatter to the
floor. He glances down. A thin knife. Victor looks to
Waldman. Puzzled. It still hasn't really dawned.
Waldman turns to them, face drained of color, hand pressed
to his sternum, lips tight. He looks more annoyed than
anything else. He exhales slowly.
HENRY:
Professor?
WALDMAN:
(softly)
Oh God
That's when the blood starts pumping through his fingers.
They catch him as he collapses, cradling him as he sprawls
to the floor. People are pushing and crowding to see.
A cobblestoned street-scene. carriage. A delivery wagon.
Vendors. Pedestrians.
The doors of the poor house burst open, releasing a frenzy
into the street:
Victor and Henry carrying Waldman by hisarms and legs, all the students running alongside, some of
them weeping with panic, the crowd at their heels still
trying to catch a glimpse, pedestrians scattering, the
students dwindling up the long winding street, bearing their
professor toward the school, shouting for help...
INT - UNIVERSITY CHAPEL - DAY
Krempe delivers the eulogy before the open casket. The
chapel is full. Victor is seated near the back. Dazed. Henry
comes up the aisle and slides in next to him. Victor doesn't
even glance over. Henry whispers:
HENRY:
They just caught the man who did it.
VICTOR:
He was a frightened soul who acted out of fear
and ignorance.
HENRY:
They'll hang him all the same.
VICTOR:
Good. I'll be there to hear his worthless neck
snap.
(CONTINUED)
40
People glance back. Henry lays his hand on Victor's elbow.
HENRY:
Keep your voice down. You don't know what you're
saying.
VICTOR:
It was wrong, Henry! It shouldn't have happened!
Victor is causing ripples of attention throughout the
chapel. Even Krempe falters briefly in his eulogy. Henry
pulls Victor from the pew, drags him up the aisle ...
INT - CONFESSION BOOTH - DAY
... and into the confessional where they launch at each
other in harsh whispers.
Dialogue here is overlapping and intense:
HENRY:
You're making a scene!
VICTOR:
Why Waldman? He of all people should have cheated
death!
HENRY:
You can't. Death is God's will!
VICTOR:
I resent God's monopoly
HENRY:
That's blasphemy!
VICTOR:
Blasphemy be damned! Waldman spent his life
trying to help people!
HENRY:
All the more reason for us to continue his work
with the poor!
VICTOR:
(beat, low)
No. He had more important work.
HENRY:
There are sick people who need our help. Here and
now. Not in some future time. Consider that.
(CONTINUED)
41
Henry exits. Victor tries to compose himself, clasping his
hands together as if in prayer ... or quiet rage. He gazes
up. There on the wall hangs a crucifix.
VICTOR:
Life and death.
(beat)
Why should You alone have the final say?
VICTOR"S POV PUSHING SLOWLY IN on the Christ figure before
him, bleeding from a crown of thorns, arms thrown wide.
DISSOLVE TO:
DA VINCI'S STUDY OF MAM rises from the image of Christ,
striking an eerily similar pose, arms thrown wide within the
perfect circle. We hear a DOOR BEING UNLOCKED as ...
INT - WALDMAN"S WORKSHOP - DAY
... a WIDER ANGLE reveals the deserted workshop. the door
swings open as MARIE lets himself in. He sees the finished
locket lying open on a table, picks it up, studies the
beautiful miniature portrait it contains. Snaps it shut.
He looks up, eyes falling upon the Da Vinci print hanging on
the wall. He stares. Intense.
INT - WALDMAN'S WORKSHOP - NIGHT
TRACKING SHOT:
Things are in the process of being sorted andboxed. We find Victor poring over Waldman's notes:
VICTOR:
To understand the causes of life, we must first
have recourse to death ... and examine the process
A gray day. Waldman's ferret-faced MURDERER stands weeping
helplessly on the scaffold as sentence is read:
MAGISTRATE:
... his body to be left on public display for a
twenty-four hour period, thereafter to be
consigned to an unmarked pauper's grave. So the
court has spoken.
(CONTINUED)
42
The EXECUTIONER draws the hood over the murderer's head,
cinches the noose tight. The condemned man is blubbering,
pleading for his life.
Victor stands in the crowd. 'Watching. Waiting. we hear the
THUMP of the body dropping, the CRADK of a snapping neck..
Dark as Hades. Pissing down rain. A FLASH OF LIGHTNING and a
CRASH OF THUNDER. The dead man still hangs from the
scaffold, lashed by the wind.
Victor looms from the storm, hands jammed in the pocket of
his greatcoat. He pulls out a thin, glittering blade. The
very weapon which took Waldman's life. He gazes up at the
dead man ... at the rope from which he dangles ...
INT - VICTOR'S GARRET - NIGHT
The dead murderer lies pale and naked on a slab. Victor
leans close, still dripping, studying the face closely. A
FLASH OF LIGHTNING throws wild Littering shadows through the
dormer windows and skylights. Softly:
VICTOR:
No longer pathetic and useless
INT - VICTOR'S GARRET - DAY
The dead man, dissected and wired, jerks bolt upright,
flopping and convulsing, eyes opening and closing, mouth
gaping open and shut. He falls back limply as Victor shuts
the power off, making careful notations in his journal.
INT - VICTOR'S GARRET - DAY
TRACKING the dissection table ... up the length of the
murderer's body ... now in an advanced stage of decay ... we
hear the SOFT BUZZING of flies ...
We find Victor standing over the corpse. Gaunt and hollow-
eyed. Exhausted and obsessed. Wearing a butcher's apron.
Staring down at one of the dead man's forearms. Maggots are
swarming in the flesh. He abruptly raises a cleaver and
WHACKS it off at the elbow.
INT - VICTOR'S GARRET - NIGHT
TRACKING SLOWLY past the forearm lying in a steel pan, we
find Victor performing an intense chemical analysis. Dead
tissues are breaking apart in solvents, distilled over a
slow-burning flame. Victor smears a glass slide, places it
under a microscope.
(CONTINUED)
43
INT - GASTHOF - DAY
Victor is hunched over his notebook, pale and unhealthy,
scribbling notations next to a rendering of the human form.
Henry is across from him:
HENRY:
Victor. This has got to stop.
(Victor glances up)
Nobody's seen you in months. You haven't attended a single
class.
VICTOR:
I've been preoccupied.
HENRY:
We all know how hard you took Waldman's death.
Even Krempe is sympathetic. But it is time to move
on. It is time to concern yourself with life.
VICTOR:
That is my concern.
(faint smile)
I'm involved in something just now. I want to
finish it in Waldman's memory.
HENRY:
How much longer?
VICTOR:
Few months perhaps. I'm gathering the raw
materials even now.
EXT - GRAVEYARD - NIGHT
The wrought-iron doors of a crypt have been forced open.
CAMERA PUSHES through to find Victor standing inside over a
stone sarcophagus with a pry bar in his hands. He's nervous,
working up his courage:
VICTOR:
Materials. That's all they are Tissue to be re-
used.
He pries off the stone lid. It THUMPS heavily to the floor,
cracking in half. He opens the casket, reaches in, raises
the pale arm of the deceased to inspect it.
EXT - GRAVEYARD - NIGHT
Stone monuments. Bare trees. Ivy-covered ground. Victor
shoulder-deep in a grave. Shoveling. A lamp burns low.
(CONTINUED)
44
COFFIN - NIGHT
Pitch black. The lid swings open, cascading dust and soil.
Victor peers down, holding the kerosene lamp high.
VICTOR'S GARRET - NIGHT
TRACKING ALONG the shelves, crammed now with formaldehyde
jars of feet and hands, brains and kidneys, the occasional
head staring through the glass, dead cats ...
... and we find Victor working into the wee hours. Hunched
over his specimens. Candle flame flickering low. Referring
back to Waldman's notes. Making notations in arcane books
such as "De Occulta Philosophia," by Agrippa, and "Le
Sciences et les arts D'alchimiste," by Paracelsus.
FRANKENSTEIN ESTATE - LATE DAY
A magnificent backdrop of mountains against a cloudless blue
sky. TILT DOWN to Elizabeth and Justine with the mansion
distant. A steady breeze ripples the fields as Elizabeth
regards a stack of mail.
ELIZABETH:
Nothing. Still nothing.
JUSTINE:
It's been months. It's not like him.
ELIZABETH:
Something's wrong. I know it.
(off her look)
I've heard rumors of cholera spreading south from
Hamburg.
JUSTINE:
So have I
ELIZABETH:
I should go. I should leave today.
JUSTINE:
Elizabeth. If it's true, travel into Germany
would be banned. You'd never get near Ingolstadt.
(beat)
Besides, they're only rumors.
ELIZABETH:
(beat, nods)
And not a word of them to Father. He's agitated
enough not hearing from Victor.
(CONTINUED)
45
JUSTINE:
Read him one of the old letters and rephrase it.
We'll say it came today. It'll set his mind at
ease.
Elizabeth gives her a hug. They walk toward the mansion
INT - BLACKSMITH SHOP - DAY
Murky and dark. Bellows are pumping. Showers of sparks
cascade. The BLACKSMITH and his ASSISTANT are pounding a
metallic sledgehammer litany, beating a huge copper sheet
into shape. Victor enters. The blacksmith directs his
attention to a finished copper piece leaning against the
wall. Victor runs his hand over the surface. Nice.
INT - MATERNITY WARD - CHARITY HOSPITAL - NIGHT
A WOMAN lies on a table, screaming as she goes into labor.
Her water breaks, cascading into a steel bucket. one of the
ASSISTANTS snatches it up, scurries around the corner.
Victor is waiting in the shadows. Money changes hands.
INT - VICTOR'S GARRET - NIGHT
Victor is examining the amniotic fluid. Boiling it off.
Working to synthesize it.
INT - VICTOR'S GARRET - NIGHT
Victor pours the final drum of fluid into what appears to be
a large copper vat. He dips his hand in, examines the
consistency and smell. ANGLE WIDENS, spinning slowly up to
reveal that the vat is human in shape. A sarcophagus.
EXT - ALLEY - NIGHT
We find Victor examining three corpses on the back of a
wagon, checking nostrils and teeth with gloved hands. A PAIR
OF MEN lurk in the shadows, waiting.
VICTOR:
That one
The corpse is lifted off. Money changes hands.
MAN:
With this cholera come to town, we'll have plenty
more for you.
INT - VICTOR'S GARRET - NIGHT
Victor wearing elbow-length gloves, hacking furiously away
with a bone saw. Tossing aside the scraps.
(CONTINUED)
46
VICTOR'S GARRET - NIGHT
Victor has an arm wired, testing reactions. He scrapes off a
small shred of tissue, drops it in solution, watches it
break apart. it doesn't look good. He glances feverishly at
the clock, makes a fast decision, scribbles in his journal:
VICTOR:
Not optimal. Must use. No time to replace. Body
can't wait.
VICTOR'S GARRET - NIGHT
Victor stitches a torso with one of those big, awful curved
needles, yanking up hard to draw the catgut tight.
ARCTIC VICTOR (V.O.)
I stitched it together with my own hands ...
VICTOR'S GARRET - NIGHT
Victor pulls on a chain, hoisting the body off the slab via
block-and-tackle mounted on a ceiling track. The body rises
limply into the air, spinning slowly, arms and legs
dangling, long black hair covering its face.
ARCTIC VICTOR (V.O.)
a patchwork man of my own devising.
Victor reaches up with one hand to stop the body spinning.
He pushes it down the length of the lab, rolling it along
its ceiling track like a side of beef in a meat locker.
INT - VICTOR'S GARRET - NIGHT
The Creature lies on an improvised bier of crates,
surrounded by shadows and clutter, draped/sprawled like
Christ taken from the cross in Michelangelo's "Pieta."
Beakers bubbling and dripping. Intravenous lines seeping and
secreting. A misty chemical haze in the air. Victor is
watching his patchwork man. Glowering. Waiting.
ARCTIC VICTOR (V.O.)
It took nutrients like a child receiving milk ...
blushed like a young girl with the blood I forced
through its veins ...
A FLASH OF LIGHTNING rips through the skylights, bathing the
scene purple/white. Eerier and eerier.
ARCTIC VICTOR (V.O.)
... all in preparation.
(CONTINUED)
47
VICTOR'S GARRET - DAY
We find Victor passed out in a chair. His creation is still
taking fluids. Gray daylight streams through the windows.
There's commotion in the street outside: shouting, horses'
hooves clattering on cobblestone, an occasional scream or
wail. Victor doesn't stir. Dead to the world. Somebody
starts POUNDING on the door. Victor rouses, takes a moment
to remember where he is. He lurches from his chair, grabs a
canvas tarp, throws it over his "patchwork man."
STAIRWELL - DAY
Henry is pounding. Finally the latch is drawn. The door
swings open a crack. Victor peers out. Gaunt and furtive.
Suspicious. Henry is stunned at his dissipated appearance.
HENRY:
God's sake, what is that stench?
Henry peers past him.
Victor shifts, blocking his view
VICTOR:
This is a bad time, Henry. I'm busy just now.
What do you want?
HENRY:
Things have gone worse with this cholera
outbreak. Thousand new cases a day now. Classes
have been suspended. University's shut down.
VICTOR:
Yes? And?
HENRY:
Listen to what I'm saying. The militia's arriving
to quarantine the city. Most of us are getting out
while we still can.
VICTOR:
You'll be leaving then.
(beat)
Just as well. You never were cut out for this,
Henry. Goodbye.
And the door slams shut. The bolt is thrown. Henry pounds.
HENRY:
VICTOR! OPEN THE DOOR! LISTEN TO REASON!
(CONTINUED)
48
Nothing. Stunned and hurt' Henry turns from the door and
heads back down the stairs.
EXT - VICTOR'S BUILDING - STREET - DAY
Henry exits into a nightmare. REFUGEES are streaming from
the city, horses and wagons, people on foot, carrying their
possessions. Henry steps into the street and is nearly run
down by a carriage.
VOICE (O.S.)
Henry glances up to see Schiller at the reins, struggling to
control the animals as the carriage eases past.
HENRY:
Schiller? You're leaving? Where's all that high
SCHILLER:
(icy)
To hell with them. And you.
He snaps the reins, not caring who he runs down. The
carriage lurches away, scattering refugees before it.
Henry keeps walking. Jostled by the hostile crowd. Looking
around. Dazed. Dead bodies are stacked along the street like
cordwood, waiting for the death carts. ANGLE WIDENS as Henry
stumbles along through utter despair and devastation,
stunned at the human suffering around him as we
FADE TO:
INT - VICTOR'S GARRET - NIGHT
Victor glances at the clock. Scribbles in his journal:
VICTOR:
Time running out. Rate of decay accelerating.
Must strike now ... or start again from scratch.
He gazes down at his creation, lying once again on the slab
before him ... but now the Creature lies on a full body-
length steel grate. Steel chains with hooks dangle from the
ceiling above ... along with long coils of thick copper wire
tipped with glittering needles big enough to knit with.
Victor glances up at the Da Vinci. The Study of Man has been
daubed with red paint at key acupuncture points. Victor dips
a huge cotton swab in a bowl of iodine, starts dabbing
identical marks on the body before him ...
(CONTINUED)
49
Now he's ramming the huge wire-fed needles deep into these
spots, brutally working them around in the flesh to get good
contact. The forearms, the neck, the rib cage ...
Now he's attaching the steel chain-hooks to the four corners
Now he's pulling on a rope, straining to hoist the whole rig
into the air. It lifts slowly from frame: body, needles,
wires and all ...
HIGH WIDE ANGLE:
... and we get our first spectacular look at Frankenstein's
gloriously low-tech and stupendously arcane 2LicU the
Creature dangles below us from the ceiling-hoist, lying
full-length and horizontal on its steel grate, spinning
slowly, thick copper wires trailing from its arms and legs,
rib cage and neck, armpits and groin. The copper cables
trail upward, coil along the ceiling like garden hose to
provide necessary slack, meander down the wall to culminate
in a splendiferous array of galvanic batteries, steam
engines and generators.
Frankenstein reaches slowly up, fingertips straining toward
the ceiling as if worshipping the creation revolving
endlessly above his head in a perfectly-described circle not
at all unlike the Da Vinci ...
.And he grabs the lever on the platform and pulls to start
it spinning, with a mighty heave, he sets the whole thing
gliding in motion, CAMERA TRACKING FASTER AND FASTER as he
rolls it along the ceiling track through the lab, passing
table after table of desiccated leftovers and discarded
scraps, LIGHTNING BLAZING through the windows to mark his
way with wild and sinister shadows ...
... and he yanks the platform to a stop over the copper
sarcophagus. Amniotic fluid steaming and murky within. He
positions the platform, unties the rope, lowers the Creature
down and down, lower and lower, sinking into the vat, the
steel grate a perfect fit in size and shape.
Faster now, moving furiously. Reaching into the murk,
unhooking the chains. Arraying the copper wire through air-
tight guide holes. Spinning on his heels and reaching up,
grabbing hold of the upper shell of the sarcophagus also
suspended from the ceiling, stunningly heavy, gleaming with
reflections and secrets. CAMERA ROCKETS DOWN on Victor as he
swings the upper shell into position, lowers it into place
with a THUD-CLANK! Working the wing-nuts on the bolts,
spinning frantically, tightening them down, sealing the
sarcophagus air-tight. Faster now. Faster.
(CONTINUED)
50
The frenzy builds and the CAMERA GOES WILD, rocketing,
zooming, gliding, spinning the audience on its ear:
Frankenstein. Turning up the heat on the burners. Cooking
the copper from below. Double double, toil and trouble.
Frankenstein. Gazing through the thick glass portholes
checking on his creation drifting in the murk.
Frankenstein. Whipping up the galvanic batteries,
supercharging them with steam generators. Watching as they
send voltage humming and throbbing through the copper cables
along the ceiling beams. Building up a charge.
Frankenstein. Gazing at his gleaming handiwork. LIGHTNING
painting his features into a twisted mask. Hand on the
switch. Ready to rev it up and throw the throttle.
Over it goes. WHAM! Overdrive.
The body convulses violently in its copper womb as the first
jolt of electricity hits. THUNX-THUNK-THUNK! Blazing with
energy and arcane light, fingers of light throbbing through
the portholes, sparkling, glittering, seeking.
Frankenstein races to the sarcophagus. A long glass tube,
two feet in diameter and ribbed with steel, gets lowered on
a boom and rammed into a hole, collate spun tight, inner dam
wrenched out like a Polaroid plate.
He reaches up and grabs holds of a pull-chain, fingers going
knuckle-white on the wooden handle. one hard yank. A dump-
tank is released, murky water cascading down the glass tube.
And here's the final perversion, the ultimate icing on this
twisted cake:
the copper sarcophagus is literally a womb,with the giant glass tube serving as a massive gleaming
phallus down which come pouring dozens of electric eels,
wriggling and streaming like huge black sperm ...
... rocketing down the tube, slithering and squirming,
faster and faster, racing into the sarcophagus, seeking out
the creation in the murky womb-fluid, lashing at the hapless
gray flesh, zapping it again with high-intensity voltage.
the Creature convulsing, thrashing, jerking from side to
side, raising its head against the top, mouth gaping open
and shut, jaws snapping with electrical surges.
Frankenstein's face appears at the porthole, peering in,
watching his dark seed fertilize his unholy child.
VICTOR:
(muffled through the glass)
Live, you bastard!
(CONTINUED)
51
A huge bony hand slaps against the porthole, fingers clawing
and spasming against the glass.
FRANKENSTEIN jerks his head back, stunned. The fingers are
scratching. He turns, runs to the electrical rig, shutting
the whole thing down. It cycles off, whining into silence
INSIDE THE SARCOPHAGUS
... and the body relaxes, shutting down with it, going limp
and lifeless in the murk, spasms trailing off.
FRANKENSTEIN stares at the sarcophagus. Realizing his
creation has stopped moving. Nothing now. He sags to his
knees, utterly devastated at the loss of his dream. Nothing.
It was all for nothing ...
INSIDE THE SARCOPHAGUS
... And The Creature opens its dim yellow eyes, Aware. Its
mouth goes wide, teeth bared in a silent scream as it tries
to breathe and finds nothing in its lungs but fluid.
FRANKENSTEIN is wrapped in his despair, face cradled in his
hands. A SOFT TAP. He glances over his fingers. Thinking he
imagined it. No. There's another tap. And another.
We see it in his eyes. Sheer joy and stunned exultation.
Triumph and wonder unbelievably sublime. A bare whisper:
VICTOR:
It's alive. It's alive.
And then hell breaks loose: Massive convulsions wrack the
sarcophagus, damn near shaking it off its cradle. THUMP-
THUMP-THUMPI Pounding from within. Head ramming against the
inner lid. He races over, frantic, fingers fumbling on the
wing-nuts, spinning them loose, trying to free the drowning
man within. He unscrews the final bolt, reaches for the rope
to hoist the lid away ...
... and the lid launches itself across the room, propelled
from below with rocket-booster force. The massive copper
shell goes hurtling/spinning/cartwheeling across the lab,
demolishing an amazing array of equipment in its path, and
thunders massively off the wall in an explosion of masonry
and splintering coat rack. Victor's greatcoat goes flying.
(CONTINUED)
52
Silence. Frankenstein is frozen. Staring at the roiling
surface of the amniotic fluid as it settles. An eternity
passes in the space of a heartbeat.
The Creature erupts from the vat like a vision from Hell,
thrashing and gagging. murky fluid cascading in all
directions-, The Creature seizes Victor by the shirtfront,
trying to pull itself from the vat, slipping and sliding
like an epileptic in a bathtub full of oil, damn near
dragging Victor in, eels leaping and frothing and crackling
with electricity. Victor screaming, trying to pull away,
trying to break the Creature's grip ...
... and the whole thing tips over. Victor reels back,
falling as the vat SLAMS to the ground, cascading its murky
contents,, washing the Creature limply across the floor like
a body tossed from the ocean, eels flipping and flopping,
snapping electrical discharges into the air. Victor
scrambles back, slipping and sliding on the amniotic muck,
desperately jerking his legs away. He finds his traction and
scrambles to his feet.
The Creature is grasping and crawling toward him. Flopping
and jerking. Gripped by seizures and convulsions. Vomiting
murky liquid as his lungs heave grotesquely to dispel the
fluid. Swiping the air with palsied hands. Malfunctional.
VICTOR stands dripping fluid and goo, chest heaving, staring
down at the Creature, not quite able to believe he was
midwife to this ghastly birth. Softly:
VICTOR:
What have I done?
The Creature lunges to its knees, grasping him, clutching
his clothes, pawing him.
VICTOR:
LET GO OF-ME!
Victor can't break free. Panicking. He snatches a hammer
from a nearby table and brings it down on the Creature's
head. THUD! Again and again. Beating the thing down,
pounding it into submission. The Creature finally collapses,
sliding down Victor's legs, curling up like a fetus,
twitching and jerking in its own afterbirth.
Silence now.
A ghastly tableau: Victor stands in the middle of his ruined
lab with his creation moaning and twitching at his feet in a
dying heap. A FLASH OF LIGHTNING silently bathes the room,
jerking wild shadows across the walls.
(CONTINUED)
53
Victor steps over the Creature. Dazed. He drops the hammer.
It clatters to the floor. He stops to jot a final entry:
VICTOR:
Massive birth defects. Result is malfunctional
and vile.
(beat)
Have chosen to abort.
He walks stiffly away, disappears into the bedroom ...
INT... BEDROOM - NIGHT......
... where He staggers to the canopied bed, beyond exhausted,
and collapses face-down into oblivion. Weeping.
FADE TO:
INT - VICTOR'S BEDROOM - NIGHT
The wee hours. Rain pattering desolately on the roof. Victor
sleeping. Wrestling with troubled dreams. Through a crack
in the bed curtains, we see the bedroom door slowly creak
open, throwing a twisted spill of light. A shadow appears.
Entering. Shambling and gliding across the floor. Silent and
furtive. Creeping toward the bed.
PUSHING SLOWLY IN on Victor. Moving into close-up. Sleeping.
Unaware. The shadow falls across his face
Beat. His eyes fly open. An intake of breath. Paralyzed.
Sensing the presence. Feeling the shadow. Working himself up
to something. Perhaps a scream. He can stand it no longer,
thrusts out his arm, jerks the curtain aside ...
... and the Creature is there, Looming like a specter of
death. Naked. Beseeching. Dull yellow eyes trying to
understand. 'The pilot''s wheal is now a crystalline
sculpture of ice. The forward mast lies across the deck like
a broken limb, extending out over the ice on a tangle of
rigging...' lurches from bed, sends a nightstand and vase
CRASHING to the floor. the Creature circles, seeking him,
threatening to cut off his path to the door.
VICTOR:
Stay away!
He darts past the thing, careening out into the lab. The
Creature whips around, unsteady for a moment, then follows
him with surprising speed.
INT - LAB - NIGHT
Victor races through the lab with the Creature hobbling
behind, trying to catch up. Victor hurling lab equipment,
tipping shelves in its path, anything to slow it down.
(CONTINUED)
54
Victor rips the door open, lunges through, slams it in the
Creature's face. The Creature presses against the wood with
pathetic little moans, begging not to be left alone.
He sinks to the floor. Abandoned. Shivering with cold. Sees
Victor's greatcoat where it fell. Grabs it. Drags it over.
Shrouding himself.
EXT - STREET - NIGHT
Victor races into the downpour, soaked to the skin in
seconds, mind racing. He needs a plan. He presses on.
INT - SHOP - NIGHT
Victor appears at the window. TILT DOWN to reveal an array
of gleaming swords lying in their velvet display. Victor
hurls a brick through the glass. Snatches up a sword.
INT - VICTOR'S BUILDING - NIGHT
Victor careens in from the storm, drenched, racing up the
stairs, sword glittering in his grasp. He gets to the top of
the stairs ...
INT - VICTOR'S GARRET - NIGHT
... only to discover the door torn off It's hinges. He
enters, stunned. The thing is gone.
EXT - STREET - NIGHT
Victor races back into the storm. Searching. Slogging grimly
on. Lashed by the wind and rain. Mocked by the lightning.
He'll never give up. Not until he finds the thing and takes
back the life he gave it. He dwindles from view, vanishing
into the gale as we
FADE TO:
EXT - ALLY - MORNING
Gray and drizzly. Heaps of wet garbage. Crawling rats.
There's a shifting, heaving motion. The vermin scatter as
the waking Creature peers at the world from beneath the
greatcoat like a frightened child peering from under a
blanket. Lost and confused.
He scrabbles through the garbage for something to eat. He
finds a rotted scrap, chews it anxiously. Ravenous.
TWO FERAL DOGS appear, grizzled denizens of the city's
gutters and back-alleys, peering with insolent eyes.
Watching him eat. Assessing his potential as a threat. The
Creature stares ingenuously back. Not knowing to be afraid.
(CONTINUED)
55
The lead dog curls his lips back with a guttural SNARL. The
Creature draws back sharply with a fearful MOAN. That's all
it takes. The dogs are on him, snarling and snapping, the
food torn from his hands. The dogs dart away, growling and
fighting over the scrap.
The Creature is left whimpering and shaken. He pushes to his
feet and hurries in the opposite direction, legs bare and
pale beneath the swirling greatcoat, clutching his collar
against the cold. He hears a distant CLANGING.
VOICE (O.S.)
Bring out your deeeaaad! Bring out your deeeaaad!
A death cart clatters slowly past the mouth of the alley,
DRIVER ringing his bell. It makes no sense to the Creature,
but it's a sign of human life. He presses on ...
... and emerges into the square as ANGLE WIDENS. There's a
fair amount of activity. People are still leaving the city,
though the earlier flood has thinned. Some citizens are
still trying to go about their normal lives. VENDORS are
calling out, selling foo
The Creature moves through the square, unnoticed, just
another figure mingling with the flow. People trudge along,
eyes downcast, miseries great, paying little attention.
The Creature pauses, sniffing the air. An aroma draws him to
a vendor's stand. Loaves of bread are laid out. He hunches
down to smell one, picks it up, bites off a chunk. Chewing.
It's good. A bigger bite. Snatching up more.
WOMAN (O.S.)
Here! What do you think you're doing?
The Creature glances up. The VENDOR'S WIFE is within arm's
reach, breath catching in her throat at the sight of him.
Mouth gaping. Too stunned to scream.
The Creature cradles the loaves to his chest, terrified
she's going to take them away. He remembers his recent
experience with the dogs and decides to try out the lesson
he learned:
he curls his lips back and snarls.He's rewarded with a PIERCING SHRIEK. The Creature jumps
back, startled. This wasn't the desired effect. The woman
SCREAMS like she'll never stop. He turns to run away ...
... and plows right into the stream of refuge S. He goes
sprawling, scraping his knees bloody, still clutching his
(CONTINUED)
56
loaves. Confusion all around. People converge angrily. A
ROUGH MAN grabs his hair, jerking him upright ...
ROUGH MAN:
Stupid bastard!
... and the Creature staggers to his feet before them,
whimpering to protect his food, showing his face to all.
Screams and panic. The Creature whips around, seeing
horrified faces on all sides ...
He's the cholera! He's the one been spreadin' the plague!
... faces which turn into an angry mob, glaring sheer
hatred. Somebody hits him in the face with a heavy stick,
spinning him to the ground, loaves of bread scattering. they
surround him, hitting, flailing, throwing stones. He tries
to crawl, whimpering for them to stop.
VENDOR'S WIFE
BURN HIM! BURN HIM!
The Creature finds himself hoisted into the air, falling
back onto a sea of hands, kicking and screaming as the mob
sweeps him across the square like some pagan sacrifice. He
gets tossed onto the hard cobblestone in a thrashing heap,
scrambles to his knees as the crowd surrounds him. He's
wailing with terror now, long inhuman howls of fear. Men
start flinging lamp oil, spattering him, blinding him. A
torch is lit, swung toward him. Feel the heat.
The Creature lunges to his feet, panic and terror complete
bulldozing through the crowd to get away from the torch,
bowling people over, scattering them in all directions. He
breaks free, hobbling wildly across the square, greatcoat
billowing. The mob streams after him, thirsty for blood,
hurling rocks and sticks.
EXT - STREETS/ALLEYS - DAY
The Creature is weeping as he runs, bleeding from his many
cuts and bruises. He turns a corner, collapses against a
wall to catch his breath. He can hear them coming, shouting.
They'll be here any second.
He sees a death cart heaped with bodies. He hurls himself up
on the cart to conceal himself among the putrefying corpses.
The crowd streams past the mouth of the alley. The death
cart WORKERS appear, heaving another corpse onto the cart,
gaping fearfully at the confusion. They scramble into their
seats, snap the reins. The cart rattles off as we
DISSOLVE TO:
57
EXT - STREET - DAY
Elsewhere in Ingolstadt. Death carts and devastation. This
part of town was hit hard. Bodies are heaped in gutters,
stacked along the walls. People are huddled in doorways,
quaking with sickness and pestilence. CART WORKERS move
among them, faces shrouded with kerchiefs and burlap masks.
WORKER #1 moves down a row of the sick and dead, shaking
them to see which is which, his face hidden behind heavy
burlap. He pauses, seeing Victor unconscious against the
wall, pale and covered with filth, shaking with fever. The
worker's eyes widen. Stunned. He calls over his shoulder:
WORKER #1
over here!
WORKER #2 hurries over. Stares down. Eyes also widening.
WORKER #2
Oh my God.
Worker #1 rips his mask away. It's Henry. He leans down and
grabs Victor, trying to rouse him.
HENRY:
Victor
Worker #2 also sweeps his mask aside. Professor Krempe
KREMPE:
Don't dawdle, lad! The sick cart! Lift on three!
One, two, three!
They hoist Victor off the ground by his arms and legs and
carry him into the street. Victor rouses, feels himself
being carried. He sees a death cart looming ahead, stacked
with heaps of reeking dead. Staring. Waiting.
VICTOR:
(delirious, struggling)
No ... no ... I'm not dead ... please ... Don't
put me on the cart! I'm not dead! I'm not dead!
I'M NOT DEAD!
ANGLE WIDENS UP as they carry him kicking and screaming past
the death cart and on across the square ...
WIPE TO:
A death cart rattles past, bearing its load. PAN WITH IT to
reveal a scene utterly Dante-esque. Here's where the dead
are brought to be burned en masse. Fires are burning. Smoke
(CONTINUED)
58
is drifting in thick clouds, obscuring the sky. Soot is
drifting like black snow. BODIES are dumped into a slit-
trench, rolling and tumbling in heaps. Barrels are kicked
over. Streams of oil come pouring down, splashing and
soaking.
One of the corpses moves, heaving the others aside, The
Creature gazes around, terrified once again at the smell of
oil. He knows what that means. He pushes free, clambering
over bodies, desperately trying to scramble from the trench,
loose soil crumbling under his fingertips ...
... as WORKERS prepare to light the blaze. A MAN turns
toward the trench with a burning torch ... And then the
Creature erupts from the trench of dead bodies right before
big eyes, The man SCREAMS. The Creature SCREAMS even louder,
cowering back. The man hurls the torch. The Creature ducks
as it goes spinning over his head into the trench.
WA-BOOOM! A massive wall of flame punches sky-ward. The
Creature whirls, stunned at the searing heat, arms thrown up
in horror. He flees, scattering the workers as he goes,
running from this ghastly place of flames and death ...
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT - WOODS - DAY
The Creature comes blundering into view. On the move. He
knows not where. Just away, He arrives at a pond. Water.
He's thirsty. He scrambles to water's edge, starts lapping
it up with his hands. He pauses, noticing his broken
reflection. The water settles and his face comes clearly
into view. He throws his hands up and SHRIEKS, terrified at
his own reflection ...
... and then he realizes it's him down there. He stirs the
water with his fingertips to make sure. He reaches up,
touching his face, utterly horrified at the sight of it...
... and utterly heartbroken. He drops his face into his hand
and weeps helplessly. BARKING DOGS in the distance. He looks
up, thinking they're after him. A moan of grief. He pushes
to his feet.
TRACKING THE CREATURE faster and faster through the trees,
running from this world he's been born into. Gasping for
breath. Crashing through branches.
(CONTINUED)
59
The BARKING draws closer. He hurls himself into a thicket,
scrambling to hide himself, covering himself with dead
leaves. Panic. Exhaustion. Mortal terror.
He flinches as something comes CRASHING through the brush
nearby. The legs of a DOE come into view. Staggering.
Falling. Thrashing down into a cushion of dead leaves. Two
arrows protrude from her heaving side.
A tiny FAWN stumbles into view on ungainly legs, mouth open,
frothing with exhaustion and terror. waiting for his mother
to rise. Her thrashing grows weaker. Dying.
The Creature moans at the sight. The fawn turns, meets his
gaze. An extended beat. A rush of empathy. The Creature
reaches out. The fawn takes a few hesitant steps toward him.
The BARKING draws closer. HUNTERS shouting. The Creature's
fingertips make contact with the fawn ...
A pack of the biggest, nastiest Staffordshire terriers
you've ever seen throw themselves HOWLING AND SNARLING onto
the doe, savaging her like whirling dervishes, The Creature
lets out a SHRIEK, snatches up the fawn as he lunges to his
feet, crashes off through the foliage with the fawn cradled
to his chest. The dogs take off after him.
DOLLYING THE CREATURE
Running full-tilt, SHRIEKING in terror all the way. Trying
to save the fawn. Trying to save himself. The dogs are
snapping at his heels, trying to sever his hamstrings and
bring him down. He hears RUSHING WATER ahead, crashes
headlong through a thicket ...
EXT - RIVER - DAY
... and sails SCREAMING into empty SPACE, twisting and
spinning as He falls, plummeting head-first into the rapids.
the dogs are left behind. the Creature gets swept along,
gasping and choking, caroming off huge boulders, fawn still
clutched protectively to his chest.
Finally the water starts to settle. He manages to lash out
and secure a handhold. He pulls himself up, clambering over
the rocks and staggering onto firm soil. He collapses to his
knees, dripping water and heaving for breath.
He lowers the fawn away from his chest, joyous at their
escape ... only to realize the small animal is limp and
lifeless in his hands. He crushed it to death trying to save
it. He lays it down, moaning, trying to understand. ANGLE
WIDENS UP into the trees as we
DISSOLVE TO:
60
WOODS - DUSK
TILT DOWN to reveal a solitary figure in a greatcoat
trudging across the sodden countryside under a dismal,
darkening sky. Cold. Hungry. Wet. Tired.
The Creature pauses, hearing FAINT MUSIC drifting on the
breeze:
the lovely flute-like sounds of a recorder. He slogsto the crest of a ridge. There's a small house in the valley
below. A peasant dwelling. Smoke drifts from the chimney.
That's where the music comes from (a simple and plaintive
rendition of our movie's WALTZ/LOVE THEME).
The Creature proceeds down the ridge ... drawn by the music
and the promise of warmth.
HOUSE - DAY
The Creature approaches cautiously. Furtive. He eases to a
window, catches a glimpse inside, draws back. Listening. The
tune ends. We hear the pleasant murmur of VOICES. FOOTSTEPS
come clumping across the floor. The Creature reels back and
dives around the side of the house as the door unlatches and
swings open. FELIX exits, a poor man trying to scratch an
honest living from the soil. He heads in the same direction
as the Creature ...
ANOTHER ANGLE:
... and walks around the corner of the house just as the
Creature scrambles from view behind the chicken coops. The
Creature watches through the wire and wood as Felix
approaches and stops, only his legs visible. Feed is
scattered through the wire. The chi
PIGSTY - DUSK
... and finds himself in the company of PIGS. the animals
GRUNT and SQUEAL in alarm.
FELIX (0. S.)
Yes, yes, I'm coming ...
The Creature scurries further back into the shadows as
Felix's feet stop just outside. A pail is upended. Slop
pours into the trough. Felix walks away. The pigs scurry to
eat. The Creature leans forward intently. Food?
He crawls to the trough and squeezes in among the pigs. They
jostle, but he jostles right back, wanting his fair
(CONTINUED)
61
share. He laps up the slop with his fingers, dribbling it
down his chin. Not much on taste, but it's edible.
He stops, hearing the recorder MUSIC again, turning toward
the sound. He follows it, crawling back into the darkest
recesses where the sty adjoins the wall of the house. He
places his eye to a chink between the logs ...
... and sees GRANDFATHER playing the instrument near a
fireplace of glowing embers. The Creature shifts for another
view, sees the family preparing the table for dinner. Felix
and his wife MARIE are helped by their children, MAGGIE AND
THOMAS, ages 6 and 8
MARIE:
Bring Grandfather to the table.
The old man stops playing as the children scurry over. As
Maggie helps him to his feet, Thomas tosses another log on
the fire. It BLAZES UP. Fire and sparks. in the pigsty, the
Creature draws back with a fearful moan ...
... that nobody but GRANDFATHER hears, He pauses to gaze
blindly toward the wall, eyes milky with cataracts,
wondering what it might have been. Probably nothing. He lets
the children lead him toward the table. the meal is brought
from the stove and ladled out.
The Creature eases back to the chink in the wall, smelling
it from here. A string of drool spills from his mouth. It's
humble fare, not very appetizing, but it looks like a feast
compared to pig slop ...
DISSOLVE TO:
INT - VICTOR'S BEDROOM - NIGHT
Victor lies sleeping. Wrestling with troubled dreams. In an
eerie echo of before: the door creaks open in a spill of
light. A shadow enters, creeps to the bed, falls across his
face. Victor's eyes fly open. He tries to erupt from bed,
choking on a scream ... and Henry wrestles him back to the
pillow to feel his clammy forehead.
HENRY:
Thank God your fever broke.
(offers him water)
Slowly, now. Just a sip.
(Victor sips, falls back)
I've been worried we might lose you. It's been
touch-and-go for a week.
VICTOR:
A... week?
(CONTINUED)
62
HENRY:
We feared cholera. Turned out to be pneumonia,
brought on by nervous exhaustion and some idiot
running around in a storm. -
VICTOR:
Is that your diagnosis?
HENRY:
Mine and Professor Krempel's.
(off his look)
We've been trading off nursing you in shifts. The
rest of the time we're out working with the
cholera victims. It's his turn for that just now.
VICTOR:
You've been going round-the-clock?
HENRY:
We catch a few hours sleep where we can. Usually
here at your bedside.
VICTOR:
(deeply moved)
Everything in moderation, Clerval.
HENRY:
Nothing in moderation, Frankenstein.
Victor takes Henry's hand. Squeezes it.
HENRY:
It's the down-and-outs I pity most. Those who
can't fend for themselves. They'll be dead by the
thousands before this is done. They don't stand a
chance out there.
VICTOR:
(thinking of his creation)
No. They don't.
HENRY:
Victor. This place looked like a charnel house.
What went on here?
Victor pauses, too emotional to respond. Softly:
VICTOR:
I want to go home.
Beat.
Henry accepts this, though he doesn't like it.
(CONTINUED)
63
HENRY:
It'll be months before you're well enough.
Meantime, your family must be frantic not hearing
from you.
Henry grabs a stack of letters from the nightstand.
HENRY:
I found these. Some of the postmarks go back nine
months.
(slaps them on the bed)
Why don't you open them? And when you've the
strength, have the decency to ease their minds
with a reply. Soon as the city ends quarantine,
I'll even mail it for you. Along with this.
(raises the locket)
It's a beautiful gift. Does her no good lying
here.
Henry leaves him alone to wrestle with his guilt. Victor is
swept with emotion and remorse. He closes his eyes. Softly:
VICTOR:
It can't survive.
INT - PIGSTY - DAY
The Creature and the pigs are sleeping in a heap. He rouses,
scattering them, crawls to the slats of the sty. Felix is
returning wearily from the fields with a large basket on his
back. The Creature moves to his chink in the wall to see
Felix enter the house and dump the basket out for Marie. A
pathetic array of potatoes and turnips.
FELIX:
Not much to look at. Even less to eat. I don't
how we're going to get through the winter with
this yield.
MARIE:
We'll sell another pig at market.
FELIX:
one less for us.
MARIE:
We'll make do. We always have.
He sinks into a chair, weighed by worry. She moves to
comfort him, cradling his head to her breast. He returns her
embrace, drawing strength. A tender, gentle moment. The
Creature watches, puzzled and empathetic, deeply moved by
her sympathy. Felix gathers himself, wipes his eyes.
(CONTINUED)
64
FELIX:
I'll see if I can scratch a few more out of the
ground.
He hoists the basket and exits. The Creature turns to watch
Felix trudging back toward the fields.
EXT - FIELD - DAY
Felix digs for potatoes, tilling as he goes. Back-breaking
work. Thomas provides what help he can. Some distance away,
Maggie and Grandfather are tending the cow. ANGLE SHIFTS to
reveal the Creature watching from the brambles ...
INT - PIGSTY - NIGHT
The Creature watches the family eat their dinner. Potatoes
and turnips. A glimmer of understanding in his eyes.
EXT - HOUSE - NIGHT
A long shadow looms toward the dwelling ... circling the
house...approaching the shed. Baskets and tools ...
EXT - FIELDS - NIGHT
We find the Creature working by the light of a refulgent
moon, hacking away at the soil, tilling the earth ...
INT - PIGSTY - DAWN
The Creature stirs, hearing movement within the house. He
scurries to the slats of the sty and peers out. All the
baskets from the tool shed are stacked to overflow before
the door.
The door opens. Felix steps out and trips on a basket,
sprawling to the ground in a torrent of potatoes and
turnips. He sits up, gazing in wonder.
INT - PIGSTY - NIGHT
A sliver of warm light spills through the chink in the wall.
The Creature looms into frame, busily munching a raw potato.
A pig comes snuffling at his elbow. He shoves him away. Go
find your own. Inside, the family is enjoying a much more
generous meal than the last one:
GRANDFATHER:
I wish we could thank our benefactor.
FELIX:
Nothing in this life comes free of cost. I'd like
to know who and why.
(CONTINUED)
65
MAGGIE:
It's the Good Spirit of the forest.
FELIX:
Who's been filling your head?
GRANDFATHER:
It does no harm.
FELIX:
(peers at him)
Oh, I see.
THOMAS:
Is it, Papa? Is it the Good Spirit?
Felix and Marie exchange a look. He's not as amused as she
is, but lets it go. She smiles at the children.
MARIE:
of course it is. Now finish your food before it
gets cold.
EXT - POND - DAY
Grandfather sits playing his recorder. The cow is grazing at
a distance. The Creature creeps into view, listening to the
music. Grandfather senses his presence. Turns.
GRANDFATHER:
Who's there? Felix? Children?
No response. He turns back. Unsettled. Continues playing.
INT - PIGSTY - NIGHT
The Creature watches Marie instructing the children in their
letters. A half dozen words are written in chalk on a slate
board. Maggie is trying to puzzle one out:
MAGGIE:
ff..reh..nn..nd. Friend? Friend.
MARIE:
Good! And now the next
CREATURE:
(mimicking the effort)
... freh ... nnn..nd. Freehhnnnd.
He's delighted to have uttered his first word.
EXT - WOODS - DAY
Felix is chopping lengths of wood, dulled by the task. The
(CONTINUED)
66
children are stacking the wood on a litter.
EXT - FIELD - DUSK
Felix and the children walk home. The litter of wood is
being dragged by their cow ...
EXT - HOUSE - DUSK
Felix stacks the last pile of wood under the eaves. Marie
meets him at the door, takes his hands.
MARIE:
Your hands are bleeding again. Come in. I'll rub liniment.
They go inside. The door closes. CAMERA PUSHES to the
pigsty. Eyes peering out.
EXT - WOODS - NIGHT
The Creature walks along, munching a turnip, axe slung over
his shoulder, muttering:
CREATURE:
.brread ... motherrr ... frriend ...
(stops, gazes up)
Treeeeee
EXT - HOUSE - MORNING
The walls around the house are stacked impossibly high with
cords of wood. Felix and Marie gaze out the door. Stunned.
FELIX:
What is going on here?
INT - VICTOR'S GARRET - NIGHT
Snow is drifting outside the tall dormer window. We find
Victor at his desk, reading a letter:
VICTOR:
... but it's been so long since I've heard from
you. Remember the vow we took the night you left?
You must be honest with me if your feelings have
changed. Answer for the sake of our friendship,
and both our future happiness."
(pause)
She wrote that four months ago.
ANGLE SHIFTS to include Henry. He's been listening.
(CONTINUED)
67
HENRY:
A woman like that is far too rare to be taken
lightly.
Victor ponders the letter. He lays it next to the locket,
pulls out a sheet of paper and quill, begins to write ...
INT - PIGSTY - NIGHT
The Creature observes another lesson. Six more words are
chalked on the board. Thomas is struggling with the first:
THOMAS:
Ch...uur-ch. Church.
CREATURE:
Ch...uuur ... ch.
MARIE:
Good. And the next.
THOMAS:
Fl ... oww.
CREATURE:
Floww ...
And then, amazingly, the Creature finishes the word before
Thomas does:
CREATURE:
... wwer. Flower.
THOMAS:
.wer. Flower?
MARIE:
Very good! Maggie. Try the next
Now the Creature beats Maggie to the punch:
CREATURE:
Garrr ... denn. Garden.
THOMAS:
Maria! Look! It's snowing!
The children crowd to the window. The Creature turns,
peering through the slats. White flakes drift magically
down. The door flies open, the children pour out. The adults
appear in the doorway:
MARIE:
Maggie! Thomas! You'll catch your death!
(CONTINUED)
68
GRANDFATHER:
Let them play. There's plenty of wood for the
fire.
FELIX:
(shoots her a look)
Before she can react, he grabs her by the waist and drags
her shrieking out into the snow. Before you know it, a wild
snowball fight ensues. Screams and laughter.
THE CREATURE watches his family cavorting in the snow,
having the time of their lives. His face lights up with a
smile. Softly:
CREATURE:
It's snnowwinng.
EXT - HOUSE - DAY
Bright sunshine sparkles off a fresh carpet of snow. Felix
and the children are heading out, spirits high. Felix has
his axe and a coil of rope slung over his shoulder.
EXT - WOODS - DAY
TRACKING Felix and the children. They're laughing and
joking, the kids playful and giggling. The Creature shadows
them, looming and darting among the trees, along for the
excursion. Happy as a kid himself.
Maggie and Thomas hurl themselves to the ground, thrashing
their arms and legs in the snow. They jump to their feet and
hurry to catch up with Felix. The Creature peers out, amazed
to see two snow-angels in the powder at his feet,
Up ahead, Maggie points to a 6-foot fir tree.
MAGGIE:
That one! It's the most beautiful tree I've ever
seen!
Felix shrugs off his coil of rope and starts chopping.
INT - PIGSTY - NIGHT
The Creature gazes through the chink in the wall, face lit
up with wonder. inside, the tree is a dazzling vision of
ornaments and light. The house is filled with joy and
laughter. Grandfather plays his recorder by a roaring fire
CREATURE:
Most beautiful ... tree ...
(CONTINUED)
69
The kids go dashing across the room. The Creature shifts to
the slats as the door opens, throwing a spill of warm light.
The children set something out in the snow. Maggie calls out
into the darkness:
MAGGIE:
Merry Christmas!
The door closes. The Creature creeps from his sty, scurries
closer to investigate. He finds a covered plate topped with
a glittering red silk flower as decoration. The slate board
is jammed in the snow. On it is chalked a child's rendering
of a glowing angel and a message:
CREATURE:
For the...Goood Spirr-rit ... of the ... Forr-
rest.
He snatches up the plate, scurries around the side of the
house, and hunkers down near the tool shed with his prize.
He plucks the red silk flower, enchanted by it, tucks it
gingerly into an inner coat pocket. He uncovers the plate to
reveal a wonderful array of Christmas cookies.
He's not sure what they are, but they don't smell half bad.
He picks one up and bites into it. He pauses, stunned, eyes
going wide as saucers. A whine builds in his throat. He
starts huffing air as he chews, mouth gaping, mind
thoroughly blown. Screw potatoes and turnips.
EXT - HOUSE - MORNING
The children race out the door to find the plate empty.. and
a big snow-angel waiting for them in the yard,
INT - PIGSTY - NIGHT
The Creature watches the family clustered around the fire.
Marie reads a book aloud:
MARIE:
... with particles of heavenly fire, the God of
Nature did his soul inspire ... and pliant still
the ethereal energy which wise Prometheus tempered
into paste ...
The Creature leans back into the shadows, grappling with the
concept of book." He reaches into the pocket of the
greatcoat, and pulls out what's been there all along:
Victor's Journal. So that's what this is. A book. He unwinds
the thong, riffles the pages. Letters fall, scattering from
the pages. He picks one up by the corner, turns his head
this way and that. Slowly:
(CONTINUED)
70
CREATURE:
Myyy Darrllnng Vic...tor ... 'Willee haaad hisss
burrth-dayyy. I wissh ... yooo cuud huvv beeen
... herre ... to sharre ut ... withh ... ussss ...
EXT - GRANDFATHER'S POND - DAY
Grandfather sits playing his recorder. Again, the Creature
approaches to listen. Grandfather stops. Turns.
GRANDFATHER:
I know you're there.
(waits for a response)
Won't you speak to me?
The Creature studies Grandfather for a time. The old man
waits. Finally starts to play again. The Creature finds a
spot to listen. He opens Victor's journal.
CAMERA PUSHES SLOWLY IN as he puzzles over it ...
INT - PIGSTY - DAY
... and we CONTINUE PUSHING SLOWLY IN as the Creature reads:
CREATURE:
... of sscience ... and to c-create ... a beinng
... in the image of man ... assembled ffrrom ...
the...dead bodieess I have ... gatherrred ...
He turns the page and discovers his own rough likeness: it's
Victor's sketch of his patchwork man." The rendering
includes suture marks where the pieces were joined.
The Creature gazes for a long time. His finger traces the
penciled suture-line where an arm joins the torso. Eyes
going wider. Revelation slowly dawning. No. It can't be.
it's too horrible to conceive ...
... and he drops the journal, clawing at his coat in a surge
of panic, wrenching it away to reveal his arm ... And the
massive suture scars Joining his shoulder to his torso in an
exact match to the drawing, He throws his head back in
an animalistic PRIMAL SCREAM, face twisted in a mask of
utter horror, Munch's painting made flesh ...
IN THE WOODS:
... and his scream echoes across the countryside-, Felix
turns from chopping wood. His family gathers, eyes wide,
listening to the sound trail off. Softly:
FELIX:
God in heaven.
(CONTINUED)
71
IN THE PIGSTY:
A massive hand rips the page from the journal, raises it in
a clenched fist.
ANGLE WIDENS to reveal the Creature huddled in a corner,
dropping his head into his arms to hide his face. Sunlight
throws streaks of light and shadow through the slats. He
sobs, wracked with despair as we
FADE TO:
EXT - VALLEY - DAY
The house is distant below. Felix and his family are heading
out across the fields now sparse with snow, herding the cow
before them. Only Grandfather is missing.
The gentle MUSIC of the recorder drifts up from the house.
ANGLE WIDENS to reveal the Creature hunkered on a hill.
watching. Waiting. The family dwindles in the distance.
INT - HOUSE - DAY
For the first time, we actually see the inside of the house
from a perspective other than through the chink in the wall.
Grandfather is by the fire, playing his recorder.
The Creature's face appears at a window. Peering in. He
ducks from view, appearing at another window. Making sure
the house is otherwise empty. He vanishes again. The door
swings silently open. His figure fills the doorway.
Grandfather stops playing. Silence.
GRANDFATHER:
Would you like to sit by the fire?
The Creature enters. Sits. Holds his hands toward the
embers, feeling the warmth.
CREATURE:
Nice.
GRANDFATHER:
The music? Or the fire?
Grandfather offers him the recorder. The Creature hesitates,
takes it, inept where such delicacy is required. He puts it
to his misshapen lips and blows a few hollow tones. He gives
it back, huffing air, delighted.
GRANDFATHER:
I'm glad you finally came to the door. A man
shouldn't have to scurry in the shadows.
(CONTINUED)
72
CREATURE:
Better that way ... for me.
GRANDFATHER:
Why?
CREATURE:
I'm ... very, very ugly. People are afraid.
Except you.
GRANDFATHER:
(smiles)
it can't be as bad as that.
CREATURE:
(soft)
Worse.
The old man-reaches for his face. The Creature draws back.
GRANDFATHER:
I can see you with my hands. If you'll trust me.
The Creature decides to trust. He eases forward. Grandfather
runs his fingers over his features. Gently:
GRANDFATHER:
You're an outcast.
CREATURE:
Yes. I have been seeking my friends.
GRANDFATHER:
Friends? Do they live around here?
CREATURE:
Yes. Very close
GRANDFATHER:
Why do you not go to them?
The Creature pauses. Emotions swirling. Afraid to continue.
CREATURE:
I have been ... afraid. Afraid ... they will hate
me...because I am so very ugly ... and they are so
very beautiful
GRANDFATHER:
(softly)
People can be kinder than you think.
CREATURE:
I am afraid,
(CONTINUED)
73
Grandfather reaches out and takes the Creature's hands.
GRANDFATHER:
Perhaps I can help. Tell me who.
The Creature is huffing air, breath hitching in his chest
like a panicking child. His monstrous eyes well up with
tears. Trying to get the words out:
CREATURE:
I love them ... so very much. I want ... I want
... them to be my ff-family. I II-Ilove them ss-so
very mm-mm-mmuch ...
The Creature pauses. Trying to get the words out. And the
door swings open. The Creature whips his head. There stands
Maggie. Eyes going wide. Breath catching in her throat. She
lets out an ear-splitting SHRIEK! The Creature throws
himself on the old man's lap, clutching him, pleading:
CREATURE:
Don't let them hate me!
Felix bursts in, shoving Maggie aside, hell breaking loose
in screaming, hollering chaos: Marie trying to get the
children out of the way, Felix throwing himself on the
Creature to rip him off the old man, the Creature sprawling
to the floor, the old man shouting, the children SHRIEKING,
Felix snatching, up the fireplace poker and swinging it
down, again and again, trying to kill the thing ...
GRANDFATHER:
Leave him alone!
... the CREATURE SCREAMING and taking the blows, writhing
across the floor in agony, the children scattering from his
pleading hands, the old ROUGH MAN dazed and shouting,
William, now 10, comes charging up the steps with a small
package under his arm, nearly bowling over Mrs. Moritz as he
sails past her hollering his head off: tugging on his arm.
the CREATURE rolls from under the brutal beating and sails
out the door.
EXT - WOODS - DAY
The Creature runs bleeding and sobbing, a specter sailing
among the trees with greatcoat billowing like huge dark
wings. Running from the horrified screams of rejection still
echoing in his mind.
EXT - WOODS - DAY
A snowscape. Stark trees. A figure in a greatcoat. Head
bowed with misery. Leaning against a tree. Trying to catch
his breath. Can't. Crying too hard. He sinks to his knees,
hands clutched bitterly to his heaving chest. Wondering why
the anguish doesn't stop his heart in mid-beat.
(CONTINUED)
74
A realization. He pulls the little red silk flower from the
inside pocket. It lies glittering in his huge, misshapen
palm like gentle magic. Or hope. Yes.
HOUSE - DUSK
The sky is brewing. The Creature runs across the courtyard
toward the house, breathless, holding his palm out. see?
Here's the flower you gave me. Don't you understand?
CREATURE:
It's me! It's mmmmeeeeee.1
Nothing. He glances around. The pigs are gone. Chickens too.
The Creature's eyes go wide. He dashes to the house
HOUSE - DUSK
... and bursts in to find it empty, Items have been scattered
and left behind. Books, clothes, even the old man's
recorder. They left in a hurry.
CREATURE:
... no
HOUSE - NIGHT
We hear furniture CRASHING, glass SHATTERING, shelves being
ripped from walls. A faint glow kicks up. Flames rise
within. The Creature exits with a flaming torch, spins back
to watch. He has new possessions: an armload of books
jammed in a satchel, some extra clothes on his body, the old
man's recorder jammed in his belt.
A HOWLING WIND whips up, billowing his coat and hair,
fanning the flames even higher. He raises his torch, HOWLING
along with the wind, reflected fire seething in his eyes,
exulting as the house is consumed ...
DISSOLVE TO:
MONT BLANC - DAY
Massive pale gray feet walking through the snow. ANGLE
WIDENING to reveal a lone, windswept figure traversing the
glacier with a walking staff. Struggling toward the crest of
a ridge. Greatcoat billowing in a freezing wind.
THE CREATURE rises from below the crest and gazes down.
Glowering with triumph at achieving his goal. Softly:
CREATURE:
Geneva.
(CONTINUED)
75
AERIAL SHOT sweeps up the slope of the glacier like the wind
itself, rising magnificently past the tiny figure standing
on the ridge, sailing up over the crest ... to reveal the
valley and lake of Geneva below.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT - VICTOR'S GARRET - DAY (SPRING)
Sunlight streams through the dormer window. Birds twitter on
the ledge outside. The trees are in bloom. Victor stands
dressed and ready to go, taking one last pensive look around
at the now-empty garret. Henry appears:
HENRY:
Our carriage is here.
EXT - INGOLSTADT CITY GATES - DAY
Bustling with activity. Hopeful. A traffic snarl is jammed
up in both directions, waiting to get in and out of the
city. People, carriages, wagons, goods. We find Professor
and MRS. KREMPE saying goodbye to Victor and Henry:
MRS. KREMPE
(watching the gates)
Such a terrible winter. I'll praise God to see
those gates open again.
KREMPE:
I'll have all your things sent on. They should
arrive soon after.
(Victor nods)
It's been a rough time, lad. For us all. But if
you'd like to come back and finish out your final
term once university re-opens ...
A ROAR goes up from the crowd. The gates are finally opening
as SOLDIERS swing them aside. The traffic starts to flow.
Victor turns back to Krempe, nods gratefully.
VICTOR:
Thank you, Professor. For everything.
Krempe is flustered as Victor gives him an awkward hug.
KREMPE:
Write and let us know you've arrived safely.
Victor breaks the embrace. He and Henry clamber into the
carriage. Softly:
(CONTINUED)
76
VICTOR:
Take me home, my friend.
Henry signals the DRIVER. The reins snap. The carriage
lurches away, easing into the flow of traffic as we
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT - FRANKENSTEIN ESTATE - DAY
William, now 10, comes charging up the steps with a small
package under his arm, nearly bowling over Mrs. Moritz as he
sails past her hollering his head off:
WILLIAM:
HE'S COMING HOME!
INT - PARLOR - DAY
Willie careens into the parlor, where Elizabeth and Justine
are entertaining FRIENDS.
WILLIAM:
Elizabeth! Justine!
Father enters, trailed by HOUSEHOLD STAFF.
FATHER:
What's all the fuss? Why are you shouting?
WILLIAM:
He's coming home! Tonight!
ELIZABETH:
Who? Victor?
WILLIAM:
That's what I'm telling you!
ELIZABETH:
(swept with relief)
Thank God.
Willie thrusts the package into her hands. She hesitates
FATHER:
Open it.
Willie scrambles to bring her the letter opener. Elizabeth
lays the package down, slits it open. 'Willie peers in.
Elizabeth pulls the locket out to the admiration of all. She
presses the catch. The locket pops open to reveal Waldman's
miniature oil painting.
(CONTINUED)
77
WILLIAM:
It's Victor!
JUSTINE:
It's beautiful! May I?
(takes the locket)
He looks so handsome.
Elizabeth pulls out the letter. Apprehension and hope. She
begins to read. The others watch her. Waiting.- Her face
lights up, blinking back tears. She remembers to breathe.
FATHER:
What does it say?
ELIZABETH:
Let this locket be a token of the vow we took the
night I left.
(beat)
Instant pandemonium and joy ... except from Justine, whose
heart quietly breaks. Father and the others ROAR with
approval while Willie jumps and shouts:
WILLIAM:
Married! The two of you?
FATHER:
Brilliant! I knew it! Ever since you were
children!
JUSTINE:
(softly)
That's wonderful.
She hands the locket back. She slips quietly from the room,
unnoticed by the others ...
INT - ENTRYWAY - DAY
and hurries down the hall, fighting back tears.
RESUME PARLOR as Elizabeth is swept up in congratulatory
conversation. Willie grabs the locket, admiring it:
WILLIAM:
Elizabeth? Can I take this to show Peter?
ELIZABETH:
Willie, it's not a toy for your friends.
(CONTINUED)
78
WILLIAM:
I'll take extra special care, I promise! Pete's
never seen what Victor looks like! He'll admire it
enormously!
Willie's so solemn and earnest that Elizabeth has to smile.
ELIZABETH:
Don't dawdle. It'll be dark in a few hours.
The boy takes off like a shot. Father throws his arm around
Elizabeth, announcing to all:
FATHER:
Join us for champagne! My son is coming home!
EXT - FRANKIENSTEIN ESTATE - LATE DAY
Geese scatter as Willie comes racing across the grounds. He
clambers over a low fence, heading into the miles of wooded
acreage behind the house. His favorite shortcut.
EXT - COUNTRYSIDE - LATE DAY
Willie hurries/dawdles along as kids do, the precious locket
clutched in his hands, admiring it. He can't get over the
fact that his brother's finally coming home.
He pauses, hearing FAINT TONES carried on the breeze, eerie
and flute-like. A recorder. curious, he follows the sounds
further and further into the woods ...
... and comes into view of the pond. There's a FIGURE
sitting half-concealed among the tall reeds, gazing off
across the water and playing his delicate wind instrument
with oddly-pleasing dissonance (again, a simple variation of
our familiar WALTZ/LOVE THEME.)
Willie draws closer. Curious. Not wanting to intrude, but
listening to the music. The figure in the reeds still hasn't
noticed him ...
... And then his head abruptly whips around, An ogre right
out of a storybook. Willie's eyes go wide. The locket drops
from his fingers into the dust. The boy turns and runs as
the monster in the reeds lunges to its feet:
CREATURE:
Wait! Don't be afraid!
(CONTINUED)
79
The boy keeps running. The Creature comes shambling up from
the pond, still calling after him. He picks up the dropped
object. As he rises, he finds himself staring at the locket.
At the small painting it contains. Victor Frankenstein. He
raises his gaze after the fleeing boy. Maybe Willie does
have reason to be afraid.
The Creature starts after him, locket clenched in his fist,
teeth grinding in greater and greater rage. Eyes wild.
THEIR FEET go pounding through the brambles and brush. The
terrified boy. The pursuing monster. Faster and faster ...
INT - FRANKENSTEIN KITCHEN - DUSK
Whirling with activity. Mrs. Moritz supervises the staff.
Elizabeth and Justine are helping with the preparations.
Justine turns with a platter, collides with one of the
kitchen staff. Carrots go flying.
MRS. MORITZ
Justine! Pay attention!
JUSTINE:
(tight)
Yes, Mother.
ELIZABETH:
(pulls her aside)
Are you all right?
JUSTINE:
(even tighter)
Fine,
Justine sees genuine concern. She softens:
JUSTINE:
I'll be all right. Really.
Father enters with Claude. Both men worried.
FATHER:
Have you seen Willie?
ELIZABETH:
is he not back yet?
FATHER:
Claude rode over there to see if held lost track
of time. They say he never arrived.
(CONTINUED)
80
ELIZABETH:
It's far too late for him to still be out.
EXT - MANSION - DUSK
Elizabeth exits with the others
CLAUDE:
Don't worry, Monsieur, we'll find him.
He rushes to gather the men. Elizabeth gazes off. Wind
kicking up. Night approaching. Almost too dark to see.
EXT - COUNTRYSIDE/WOODS - NIGHT
A massive search in progress. People are scouring the fields
on horse and on foot, shouting Willie's name. Elizabeth
enters frame, calling out:
ELIZABETH:
WILLIE!
LIGHTNING dances on the horizon. A storm approaching.
The stark black silhouettes of tree trunks bisect the frame
in foreground as Justine approaches from the fields, lantern
held high ...
JUSTINE:
WILLIE!
... and one of the "tree trunks" turns out not to be. It
darts abruptly across frame with a billow of flapping
greatcoat, Justine enters the woods. A FLASH OF LIGHTNING
sends shadows skittering among the trees ...
... And the storm is now a raging downpour, TILT DOWN to
reveal a coach clattering through the rain.
INT - COACH - NIGHT
Victor is peering out the window flap.
VICTOR:
There! Look!
Henry cranes to look. A LIGHTNING FIASH stutters the mansion
briefly to life a few hundred yards down the road,
(CONTINUED)
81
HENRY:
Quite a place
VICTOR:
Thank you, Henry.
HENRY:
For what?
VICTOR:
This. My home. My family.
(softly)
If not for you, I'd be dead in a burial pit
somewhere.
Henry smiles, squeezes his shoulder. The carriage lurches
violently, tossing them forward.
EXT - COACH - NIGHT
Victor jumps from the coach as the DRIVER wrestles his
rearing horses under control and points. Victor turns.
Elizabeth stands in the downpour like a ghost. Drenched to
the bone. Weeping from the depths of her soul. Holding
Willie in her arms. The boy's arms hang limp, his head
dangles back. Victor starts forward, stunned, unable to
comprehend, running faster and faster ...
VICTOR:
Elizabeth?
... and now others are converging on the scene, dark
screaming figures in the storm. Victor reaches her first as
the others crowd around in a panic of confusion, crushing
and jostling as she collapses into Victor's arms, all of
... and then Father is there, shoving his way through, -
seeing his dead boy and collapsing in the muck with a
SCRF.AM, and suddenly Henry is there shouting for the men to
lift him and everybody is scrambling and screaming as we
SMASH CUT TO:
INT - MANSION - FATHER'S BEDROOM - MORNING
Silence. All we hear now is the SOFT TICKING of a clock.
Henry tenderly ministers to Father, who lies gravely ill.
INT - PARLOR - MORNING
Elizabeth is sitting. Elbows crossed. Holding herself
together. Face ashen. Dazed. Still in shock. Mrs. Moritz is
nearby, looking much the same. Eyes swimming with tears.
(CONTINUED)
82
MRS. MORITZ
Sir. I'm terrified for my girl.
VICTOR:
(softly)
We'll organize another search now that it's light
enough. We'll find her, Mrs. Moritz, I promise.
Henry comes downstairs. He and Victor confer in whispers
then approach Elizabeth. Victor crouches before her.
ELIZABETH:
What is Father's outlook?
HENRY:
I am cautiously hopeful. With quiet and proper
care he may eventually regain some or most of his
strength.
Victor squeezes her hand. Comfort and strength.
ELIZABETH:
Thank you, Henry.
There's a KNOCKING at the front door.
INT - ENTRYWAY - MORNING
Victor opens the door. POLICEMEN hover outside. Faces grim
POLICEMAN #1
Mr. Frankenstein. We've apprehended the murderer. Not five
miles from here, hiding in a barn.
VICTOR:
Who is it?
The policemen trade uneasy glances.
POLICEMAN #2
it's very unsettling, sir. And quite strange.
Perhaps you'd better come with us.
Victor is led in by policemen. The JAILER unlocks the cell.
Victor enters as the men depart. Victor is alone, staring at
a FIGURE huddled in the corner, pooled in shadow. We get the
impression of long, dangling hair. The figure stirs ...
FEMALE VOICE:
Victor?
(CONTINUED)
83
... and leans into the light. Justine. Pale. Dazed. Scared
JUSTINE:
Victor! It's you! Thank God!
She rushes to him, throws herself into his arms. He reacts
stiffly, not at all sure he wants her touching him.
JUSTINE:
Is it true? What they say about Willie? Is it
true?
VICTOR:
Yes
She dissolves into tears. Barely able to breathe.
JUSTINE:
Willie. My poor little angel.
(looks up)
Victor! They think I did it!
VICTOR:
Did you?
Justine pauses. Stunned. Her eyes on his. Here's the deepest
betrayal ever experienced. Her heart turns to ash.
JUSTINE:
(low)
I don't believe ... I am in need of your comfort
... anymore.
VICTOR:
(a whisper)
Did you, Justine?
Beat. She hauls off and slaps him hard enough to rock his
head around. Then she slaps him again. Harder.
JUSTINE:
Get out!
INT - COURTROOM - DAY
The courtroom is packed. Justine sits accused. An older
KITCHEN MAID is on the stand.
KITCHEN MAID:
I found her sobbing her eyes out.
Poor thing, I said, what's all this? And she spilled her
heart to me about Master Victor. How she'd always loved him,
and now he was coming home to marry mistress Elizabeth.
(CONTINUED)
84
A MURMUR sweeps the courtroom. Victor and Elizabeth share a
stunned glance.
KITCHEN MAID:
She cried and cried about the beautiful locket
held sent. How she wished it was hers. She swore
me never to tell a soul.
(peers at Justine)
That was before the boy went missing, a'course.
INT - COURTROOM - DAY
Victor is on the stand:
VICTOR:
I always viewed her with brotherly affection. I
had no idea of her feelings for me.
PROSECUTOR:
Rejection can be a powerful wound. People have
been known to do uncanny things.
VICTOR:
But to commit so ghastly and terrible a crime
against a child she loved?
Victor pauses, gnawed by some vague intuition. He looks to
Justine. She gazes back, her feelings hidden. Softly:
VICTOR:
It's hard to believe.
INT - COURTROOM - DAY
Elizabeth is on the stand:
ELIZABETH:
Justine and I grew up as sisters. I know her
better than anybody.
DEFENDING COUNSEL
Do you think it possible she committed this
crime?
ELIZABETH:
William was as much her child as mine. We were
both mother to him,
(beat)
I believe she would sooner have strangled the
life from her own body.
(CONTINUED)
85
DEFENDING COUNSEL
Then you consider the charge without merit.
ELIZABETH:
I consider the charge imbecilic.
Justine is now on the stand:
JUSTINE:
Yes. I took refuge in the barn. Wouldn't you?
Lost in the storm? Freezing and wet? I was
exhausted and could search no longer.
PROSECUTOR:
And is it true, Miss Moritz, that you love Victor
Frankenstein? That your heart was broken?
(off her silence)
Answer the question. Do you love Victor
Frankenstein?
Her gaze wanders to Victor, eyes locking on his. stares
back, trapped.
JUSTINE:
PROSECUTOR:
Is it also not true that you murdered his brother
William in a misdirected crime of passion?
JUSTINE:
Murder Willie? In my heart, he was our child.
Victor's and mine. Such
a thing could never have entered my mind.
PROSECUTOR:
So you have claimed. Yet you have no explanation
for this.
(holds up the locket)
The locket last seen in the hands of the poor
murdered child was found hidden in your dress the
morning following the murder. The locket you so
coveted.
(leans close)
How did it come to be in your possession?
(CONTINUED)
86
JUSTINE:
I have no knowledge of that.
EXT - FIELD - DAY
A PAIR OF FEET drop heavily in frame. THUMP-CRACK! A shoe
flies off. The CROWD gasps. Mrs. Moritz collapses WAILING to
the ground. Elizabeth drops to her side to comfort her.
Victor just stands staring. ANGLE WIDENS to reveal Justine
dangling from the noose, neck broken, hands bound and feet
still twitching.
Another eerie echo of before: a storm is raging. The body
dangles from the scaffold, lashed by wind and rain. Victor
looms from the darkness, staring.
And then a massive white hand thrusts into frame and grabs
his shoulder. Victor whirls and finds himself staring up
into the last face he ever expected to see again, the
hideous necrotic features bathed in a purple/white GLARE OF
LIGHTNING. He SCREAMS as the Creature lashes out, grabs him
by the coat, draws him breathlessly closer, inch by inch,
eyeball-to-eyeball, grinning his awful rictus grin. Softly:
CREATURE:
Frankenstein.
Victor is speechless with horror. The Creature raises his
arm, pointing with an impossibly long and bony finger. Look
there. Victor does. LIGHTNING dances in the sky,
illuminating Mont Blanc with a crackling halo of electricity
... and then the Creature is gone, vanishing like a shadow
in the darkness. Victor falls gasping. The awful truth
dawning. He rises, gazing at the scaffold, horrified.
VICTOR:
Oh God. Oh God! No! NOOOOOOO!
Screaming now, rushing to the scaffold, throwing his arms
around the innocent girl dangling there, sliding down,
sinking to his knees, weeping helplessly:
VICTOR:
Oh God. Justine. Forgive me.
Victor pulls a carved box from a shelf. open.-, it. Lying
inside in their velvet cradle are a gorgeous pair of Model
1820 Collier flintlock revolvers.
(CONTINUED)
87
MANSION - DAWN
Victor is bundled in a rough coat, packing final supplies on
a horse held by Claude. Elizabeth is at his heels.
VICTOR:
My mind was not playing tricks. He was there in
the storm ... gloating over his crimes ...
challenging me to come.
ELIZABETH:
But why risk yourself? Hasn't this family
suffered enough?
VICTOR:
I've no choice
ELIZABETH:
If what you say is true, it is a matter for the
police!
VICTOR:
They've done a fine job. Hanging an innocent for
the crime of a fiend.
He rams the rifle into its scabbard, turns to her.
ELIZABETH:
(softly)
Do you know this man? Is there something between
you?
VICTOR:
I know only that he is a killer. And I shall
bring back his carcass.
Victor heaves himself into the saddle and rides off. TILT UP
to the mountain. Shrouded in snow. Waiting.
MONT BLANC - DAY
A lone horse and rider appear. on his mission of revenge ...
Victor ascends the mountain The mountain is brutal and
unforgiving. Victor dismounts, leading his horse onto the
glacier. A bitter wind blows ...
They plod on. Searching. magnificent rugged vistas unfolding
before our eyes. Primeval and vast ...
The horse suddenly spooks. Victor calms him. Staring. Is
that a figure down there? He shades his eyes against the
cutting sleet. Somebody in the distance. Down there on the
snow field. A tiny speck. Watching him.
(CONTINUED)
88
The figure starts running, leaping across the ice with great
bounds. Right toward Victor. Victor wrenches the carved box
from the saddle bag. The horse bolts. Victor drops to the
snow, throws open the box, frantically snatches up the pair
of revolvers.
He glances up. The figure is gone, vanished in drifts of
white. Victor rises with a revolver in each hand, c*cks the
flintlocks of both, turning slowly around. Gazing at the
rocks and crags. Searching.
VICTOR:
WHERE ARE YOU?
He hears nothing but his own voice echoing back ... and then
FEET CRUNCHING through the snow. He turns. The Creature is
running toward him across the glacier with inhuman speed,
greatcoat billowing like huge dark wings.
Victor raises the first pistol. Hesitates. As frightened and
angry as he is, a small part of him pauses to admire the
achievement of actually having created life.
He pulls the trigger. BOOM! A huge flash of powder, an
eruption of smoke. The Creature dodges the shot, still
coming. Victor raises the other gun. BOOM! Another flash of
smoke. Still the Creature comes.
Victor. Frantic. Manually spinning the cylinders, cocking,
firing. BOOM! A miss. BOOM! Another miss. Spinning. cocking.
Firing. BOOM! BOOM! Spinning. Cocking...
... And the Creature is on him, slapping the pistols clean
out of his hands. The guns sail through the air, spinning
off across the ice. Victor panics, turns to run ... And
slips over the edge of the precipice.
Victor falls SCREAMING, arms and legs windmilling through a
30-foot drop ... and slams bodily into a snowdrift. He looks
up. The Creature is peering down ... and leaps over The edge
to follow, sailing through the air to land before him in a
cat-like crouch. He pulls Victor from the snow and sends him
sliding across the ice with a mighty heave ...
... right into the mouth of an ice- cave, Victor comes
tumbling and sliding down the entrance, spinning and
careening to sprawl heavily to the cave floor.
Winded. Battered. Barely able to move. He glances up to see
the cave filled with possessions. Books. Provisions. Extra
clothing. The embers of a fire burn low. There is even a
rough attempt at furnishings in the form of a few crates.
(CONTINUED)
89
A huge shadow fills the cave entrance. The storybook ogre is
coming home to his cave, breath huffing like a steam engine.
Victor scrambles back terrified, pressing into a corner as
... but the Creature merely crosses to the fire and hunkers
down. He tosses a few more sticks on the flames. Pause.
CREATURE:
Come warm yourself if you like.
VICTOR:
You speak.
CREATURE:
Yes, I speak. And read. And think ... and know
the ways of Man
(pause)
I've been waiting for you. Two months now.
VICTOR:
How did you find me?
The Creature grabs Victor's journal off the "shelf." He
unwinds the thong, the letters spill out.
CREATURE:
The letters in your journal. That and a geography
book.
(picks up a letter)
VICTOR:
Kill me and have done with it
CREATURE:
Kill you? Hardly that.
VICTOR:
Then why am I here? What did you want with me?
CREATURE:
More to the point, why am I here? What did you
want with Me?
(off Victor's look)
What does one say to one's Maker, having finally
met Him face to face? Milton gave it voice.
(grabs a book, thumbs to a certain
page)
Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay to mould
me Man? Did I solicit thee from Darkness to
promote me?
(CONTINUED)
90
VICTOR:
Fine words from a child killer. You who murdered
my brother.
CREATURE:
Your crime ... as well as mine.
VICTOR:
How dare you. You're disgusting and evil.
CREATURE:
Evil?
(scurries closer)
Do you believe in evil?
VICTOR:
I see it before me.
CREATURE:
I'm not sure I believe. But then I had no one to
instruct me. I had no mother ... and my father
abandoned me at birth.
He draws closer still. Intimate. Turning his head this way
and that. Puzzling at Victor's face. Softly:
CREATURE:
Were the dying cries of your brother music in my
ears?
He raises his hand before Victor's eyes, bony fingers
curling to clutch an invisible throat. Victor is petrified
CREATURE:
I took him by the throat with one hand... lifted
him off the ground. and slowly crushed his neck.
(emotion growing)
That poor, innocent child died in my grip ...
because all I could see was your face ... and all
I could feel was my rage. And when I let him go,
he fluttered to the grass like a sparrow...
FLASHBACK INSERT: FIELD
The Creature gazes down at Willie's body. He stares at the
hand that committed the crime as if waking from a dream.
Tears welling. overcome with shame and horror.
He falls to knees in the middle of the vast field, his wail
echoing across the countryside as he weeps over the boy.
(CONTINUED)
91
RESUME ICE CAVE:
Victor stares in horror as the Creature relates his story
with tears shining in his monstrous eyes.
CREATURE:
Later, when they were searching, I followed the
pretty lady who got lost in the woods...
FLASHBACK INSERT: - BARN
Justine is asleep in the hay. Haggard, wet, exhausted. The
Creature looms over her, a monstrous shape backlit by the
lightning, gazing on her beauty. His hand reaches down,
hovering reverently, wishing to caress the swell of her
breasts at the neckline of her bodice ...
CREATURE (V.O.)
She was so lovely. I longed to touch her ... and
seek her sympathy ...
The locket drops from his hand to dangle in his fingers. He
lowers it, tucking it gently away in her pocket
CREATURE (V.O.)
... but I simply returned the object which had
triggered my crime, hoping in some small way to
atone ...
RESUME ICE CAVE:
Now tears are shining in victor's eyes as well.
CREATURE:
You gave me these emotions, but you didn't tell
me how to use them. Now two people are dead.
Because of us.
Victor is crushed by remorse. A sob escapes him.
CREATURE:
Why, Victor? Why? What were you thinking?
VICTOR:
There was something at work in my soul which I do
not understand.
CREATURE:
What of my soul? Do I have one? or was that a
part you left out?
(spreads his hands)
Who were these people of which I am comprised?
Good people? Bad people?
(CONTINUED)
92
VICTOR:
Materials. Nothing more.
CREATURE:
You're wrong. Do you know I knew how to play
this?
He grabs up the recorder, plays a brief snatch of melody.
CREATURE:
In which part of me did this knowledge reside? In
these hands? in this mind? In this heart?
(beat)
And reading and speaking. Not things learned ...
so much as things remembered.
VICTOR:
Trace memories in the brain, perhaps.
CREATURE:
Stolen memories. Stolen and hazy. They taunt me
in my dreams. live seen a beautiful woman lying
back and beckoning for me to love her. Whose woman
was this? I've seen boys playing, splashing about
in a stream. Whose childhood friends were these?
(soft, intense)
Who am I?
VICTOR:
(hollow)
I don't know.
CREATURE:
Then perhaps I believe in evil after all.
The Creature moves off. Victor is emotionally exhausted
VICTOR:
What can I do?
CREATURE:
There is something I want.
(pause)
A friend.
VICTOR:
Friend?
(CONTINUED)
93
CREATURE:
A companion. A female. Like me, so she won't hate
me.
VICTOR:
Like you? Oh, God, you don't know what you're
asking.
CREATURE:
I do know that for the sympathy of one living
being, I would make peace with all.
(beat)
I have love in me the likes of which you can
scarcely imagine. And rage the likes of which you
would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I
will demonically indulge the other. That choice is
yours.
(off his look)
You're the one who set this in motion,
Frankenstein.
VICTOR:
And if I consent?
CREATURE:
We'd travel north, my bride and I. To the
furthest reaches of the Pole, where no man has
ever set foot. There we would live out our lives.
Together.
(beat)
No human eye would ever see us again. This I vow.
PUSHING SLOWLY IN on Victor. Considering it. Beaten.
EXT - MONT BLANC GLACIER - NEXT MORNING
Victor is calming his skittish horse as the Creature looms
into view. Victor turns. The Creature tosses Victor his
journal. Victor hesitates, jams it into his saddlebag.
CREATURE:
Soon?
VICTOR:
Yes. I want this over and done with.
CREATURE:
I'll be waiting. And watching.
(CONTINUED)
94
And with that, the Creature turns and scrambles back down
the nearly-vertical cliff face, leaping from crags and
boulders with superhuman agility. Victor watches him vanish
from sight.
Victor descends the mountain, heading back to civilization.
EXT - FRANKENSTEIN ESTATE - DAY
Victor walks his horse toward the house. Elizabeth rushes
out to meet him with Henry and Claude. Victor hands off the
reins to the STABLEBOY and embraces Elizabeth tightly.
ELIZABETH:
I thought I'd never see you again!
VICTOR:
I'm all right. I'm safe,
HENRY:
What happened up there?
VICTOR:
I didn't find what I was looking for.
CLAUDE:
What did you find?
Victor glances over. Claude has pulled the Collier pistols
from the saddlebags and caught a strong whiff of powder.
CLAUDE:
These have been fired,
VICTOR:
At shadows. My nerves got the better of me.
Victor walks on toward the house with Elizabeth
EXT - GARDEN - DAY
... and we find them in discussion by the fountain:
ELIZABETH:
What sort of task?
VICTOR:
It's not something I can explain now. Perhaps
someday.
(CONTINUED)
95
ELIZABETH:
What of our marriage? Victor, we've had so much
tragedy. I want this family to live again.
VICTOR:
So do I.
ELIZABETH:
We need each other now, I need your comfort and
strength, not separation and solitude.
VICTOR:
A month at most, that's all I ask.
(draws close)
Elizabeth, please. Things have not yet resolved.
I must take steps to see that they do. For our
family's sake. For our sake.
(caresses her face)
You are life itself. We shall seal our vow. The
moment I am done.
He leans forward to kiss her ... and pauses, hearing the
distant MUSIC of a recorder echoing from the hills ...
INT - BEDROOM - DAY
Victor sits at bedside, holding Father's hand. The old man
is a weak and frail shadow of his former self.
VICTOR:
You must regain your strength to preside at our wedding ...
and spoil your grandchildren later on. These are duties you
cannot shirk.
Father smiles faintly.
Victor squeezes his hand, whispers:
VICTOR:
We're all safe now. I promise
Murky and dark. Victor enters, yanks a dusty curtain off a
window to let in some daylight. He picks up a pry bar,
approaches a stack of crates as if facing an old adversary.
one in particular is quite large. He rams the bar into the
wood, prying it open ... and CAMERA PUSHES IN to reveal a
dull gleam of copper lurking within the packing straw.
VICTOR:
God forgive me.
(CONTINUED)
96
MONTAGE:
victor assembles his equipment, recreating the lab; Bolting
together the sarcophagus, now resting in its cradle. Hanging
the huge glass tube, adjusting the boom. Installing the
ceiling tracks and hoist mechanism. Playing out the copper
wire along the ceiling beams. Hooking up the galvanic
batteries and generators. Testing the electrical circuit
with goggles and thick gloves, getting a huge cascade of
sparks ...
HENRY (O.S.)
I prayed never to see these again ...
Victor turns. Henry stands in the doorway.
HENRY:
Whatever they are
Henry enters, runs his hand over the gleaming surface of the
sarcophagus, circles toward Victor.
HENRY:
I won't bother asking what or why. You wouldn't
tell me anyway. I just hope you know what you're
doing ...
(draws close)
... because if this is a repeat of Ingolstadt, I
won't be around to pick up the pieces.
CAMERA PUSHES PAST to the Da Vinci print on the wall,
contact points still daubed with red ...
EXT - CEMETERY - NIGHT
CAMERA DRIFTS among the tombstones to reveal an eerie sight:
SOMEONE hunched in a grave, digging madly, dirt flying. We
hear the THUNK of a shovel hitting wood
INT - COFFIN - NIGHT
... and the lid wrenches aside to reveal the Creature. He
peers down at us, almost close enough to kiss.
EXT - FRANKENSTEIN MANSION - ANGLE FROM ROOF - NIGHT
The Creature nimbly climbs the outer wall, fingers grasping
the brickwork, a dark shape slung over his shoulder. He
(CONTINUED)
97
pauses as a PAIR OF STABLEHANDS pass far below. He pulls
himself onto the roof, crosses the gables, and pushes open a
dormer window. We see Victor inside as it swings open. The
Creature enters with his prize ...
INT - ATTIC - NIGHT
... and the mottled corpse of Justine Moritz flops onto the
table before us.
TILT UP to:
CREATURE:
I want her
Victor stares down in utter horror. Her cold, dead face.
Blue lips already beginning to shrivel. Purple, sunken eyes.
Knowing that she loved him. Knowing it's his fault she's
dead. He can barely get the words out:
VICTOR:
Why ... her?
CREATURE:
Her body pleases me.
That's it for Victor. He turns away, stomach heaving. It's
all he can do to keep from throwing up.
CREATURE:
Materials, remember? Nothing more. Your words.
Victor hesitates, pulling himself together. Softly:
VICTOR:
My words
He turns back, forcing himself to examine the body, trying
not to view it as someone he knows. He cradles the head,
probing the back of the neck with his fingers.
VICTOR:
The brain stem was destroyed by the hanging.
We'll need another. The body looks like it will
do, but some extremities are too decayed. They'll
have to be replaced. The fresher the better.
EXT - ALLEY - RED LIGHT DISTRICT - NIGHT
Outside the back door of a rowdy tavern, we find a
PROSTITUTE servicing a SAILOR in the alley: he's got her
pressed against the wall, skirt hiked up. It's not long
before he's finished. Off he goes, staggering back into the
(CONTINUED)
98
bar. She arranges her skirt, tucking the money away ... and
pauses, noticing a TALL FIGURE in the shadows. Staring. She
approaches with her best saucy smile:
PROSTITUTE:
Want some yourself? or just like to watch?
(draws close)
What do you say, lover? I can make it good for
you.
The Creature leans into the light, clamps a massive hand to
her mouth. His other arm wraps around her waist, pulling her
off the ground. She gazes up, eyes wide, screams muffled in
his palm. Softly:
CREATURE:
I know you can
And he wrenches his arm, snapping her spine,
INT - ATTIC - NIGHT
The dead prostitute lies staring up, dried blood staining
her mouth. TILT UP to Victor gazing down in horror.
VICTOR:
What is this?
CREATURE:
A brain. Extremities.
VICTOR:
This was not taken from a grave.
CREATURE:
What does it matter? She'll live again. You'll
make her.
VICTOR:
No. I draw the line.
The Creature lashes out and drags Victor across the table.
CREATURE:
You will honor your promise to me!
VICTOR:
(through gritted teeth)
I will not! Kill me now!
CREATURE:
That is mild compared to what will come. If you
deny me my wedding night. I'll be with you on
yours.
(CONTINUED)
99
The Creature vanishes out the attic window into the night.
Victor is left gasping for air, staring at the dead
prostitute. The full horror sinking in.
INT - ATTIC STAIRCASE - MORNING
Victor slams the attic door, securing it with a massive
padlock. He hurries down the steps.
Victor and Elizabeth, intensity flying:
VICTOR:
No. Not tomorrow, not next week, Marry me today.
ELIZABETH:
Why the change? What about your work?
VICTOR:
It was misguided and pointless. is your answer
yes?
ELIZABETH:
It is
VICTOR:
We'll leave this afternoon, right after the
ceremony. Pack only what you need.
ELIZABETH:
Does this have something to do with that man you
saw?
VICTOR:
(hesitates)
Yes. We're in danger here. Every moment we stay.
ELIZABETH:
Victor, tell me why! Trust me!
VICTOR:
I do. But you must trust me for now.
INT - BEDROOM - DAY
A small ceremony has been hurriedly organized at Father's
bedside. The old man holds Elizabeth's hand. Softly:
(CONTINUED)
100
FATHER:
This is not ... the grand wedding...I had hoped
to give you ...
He releases her hand, giving the bride away. She takes her
place at Victor's side. Henry stands as best man. The PRIEST
faces them:
PRIEST:
We gather now in the sight of God to witness this
man and woman bond their lives in matrimonial vow
EXT - MANSION - DAY
Elizabeth gets in the coach. Claude clambers up to the
driver's seat armed with a rifle, ready to pull out. EIGHT
MEN on horseback provide armed escort. Victor addresses the
men staying behind, all of whom are also armed:
VICTOR:
Be especially on your guard. Stay cautious to a
fault.
STABLE HAND:
Who is this man, sir? How shall we know him?
VICTOR:
He is huge and deformed ... and quite insane.
CLAUDE:
He killed Master William and sent Justine Moritz
to the noose! No hesitation, lads! Shoot the
bastard on sight!
CRIES of assent.
VICTOR:
Are you sure you'll be all right?
HENRY:
Yes, don't worry. I'll look after your father.
You look after her.
VICTOR:
I'll be back as soon as I've got her far away and
safe. We'll hunt this fiend down together.
HENRY:
only if you'll tell me who he is.
(CONTINUED)
101
VICTOR:
(hesitates)
I owe you that. Done.
A quick embrace. Victor leaps into the coach.
ANGLE FROM FATHER'S BEDROOM WINDOW
The coach clatters up the road, trailed by the eight
horsemen. Those left behind scatter across the courtyard.
Henry turns and walks back toward the house. ANGLE WIDENS to
reveal the Creature at the window. In the bed behind him,
The old man stirs, opening his eyes
FATHER:
Victor?
... and sees the Creature turn toward him. Father's eyes go
wide as his final stroke is triggered. His life ends with a
prolonged death-rattle ... and a soft exhale. The Creature
reaches down, closes his eyes. A tender gesture.
A LOUD GASP. The Creature whirls. There stands the priest,
dropping his tea to the floor. The Creature sweeps across
the room, presses him against the wall.
PRIEST:
(breathless with horror)
You're the Devil himself.
CREATURE:
Yes, and I've come to snatch your soul ...
(leans close)
... unless you tell me where they've gone.
A magnificent sunset bathes the mountains as storm clouds
roll in. A ferry is crossing the lake, moving away from us,
rippling the water. TILT DOWN to reveal ...
Claude trotting to the window of the coach.
CLAUDE:
That was the last ferry. There's nothing else
till morning.
(CONTINUED)
102
VICTOR:
Damn it
CLAUDE:
We'll ride on ahead and secure you lodging for
the night.
EXT - RESORT - NIGHT
A big chalet nestled in the woods by the lake. The storm is
raging. Claude and his men are positioned at the entrances.
VICTOR:
Make sure you keep your pistols dry
GUARD #2
They're dry enough. And if they fail, we've
others. And if those fail ...
(draws his saber halfway)
... we can always gut the bastard.
CLAUDE:
Don't worry, sir. You're well guarded. Now why
don't you go upstairs to your wife? It's not often
a man has his wedding night.
Victor enters to find the room aglow with dozens of candles.
Elizabeth turns from the fireplace, her body silhouetted
through the sheer white nightgown.
ELIZABETH:
You're soaking.
She approaches, peels off his coat. Victor stares at her,
awe-struck. She sees the look in his eyes, crosses her arms
demurely ... then laughs at her own modesty.
ELIZABETH:
Brother and sister no more.
VICTOR:
Now husband and wife.
He strokes her bare shoulders with his fingertips
VICTOR:
I remember the first time I ever saw you.
Crossing the floor of the grand ballroom with my
parents at. your side. So beautiful even then.
(CONTINUED)
103
ELIZABETH:
(a whisper)
I have been waiting for this ever since.
She leans up and gives him a kiss that would melt glass,
triggering the sexiest seduction imaginable ...
... kissing, caressing, Victor stripping off his wet shirt,
CAMERA DRIFTING around them in slow circles, candles
spinning like a fever that's been building for a lifetime
... and now onto the bed. Magnificent and canopied. Kneeling
together, bodies touching, hands seeking, mouths joining ...
Elizabeth lying back, beckoning for him to love her. Victor
sinking down, running his hands up her thighs, peeling up
the nightgown, making her shudder with desire...
... and a SHOT FIRES. Victor jerks up. He can hear SHOUTING.
He rolls off the bed, snatching up both pistols lying primed
and ready on the nightstand.
ELIZABETH:
Victor!
VICTOR:
open this door for no-one!
EXT - CHALET - NIGHT
Victor sails past the GUARD at the entrance, brandishing his
pistols. The men converge, shouting in the rain:
GUARD #2
I saw him in a flash of lightning! He vanished
toward the lake!
CLAUDE:
Get after him!
Several men race off in pursuit. TILT UP from Victor and
Claude ... as a FLASH OF LIGHTNING reveals the Creature
clinging in the branches above their heads with a malevolent
smile. He scurries silently up, further and further into
the tree ... closer and closer to the balcony.
Elizabeth. Tense and waiting. A shadow looms across the
balcony ... spilling through the French doors ... onto the
floor ... a bony hand reaches for the latch ...
The doors burst open on a crust of wind and rain, Elizabeth
spins as candles blow out all over the room. The Creature
(CONTINUED)
104
enters, massive and unseen, gliding in shadow. Softly:
CREATURE:
Don't bother to scream.
EXT - CHALET - NIGHT
The men come running back from the lake. They stop before
Victor and Claude.
GUARD #3
We lost him.
GUARD #4
Why are those open?
Victor spins, gazing up. Breath catching in his throat. The
French doors are swaying in the wind.
VICTOR:
Elizabeth.
Elizabeth watches, transfixed, as the huge shadow moves
inexorably toward her. Her eyes dart toward the door. She
makes a break for it. He catches her halfway across the
room, spinning her around by the arm. Her face is lit by
the light of the fireplace.
The Creature pauses, stunned at her beauty. A moment passes
between them. She senses the softening in his heart. She
peers at him, trying to understand. Realizing:
ELIZABETH:
You don't want to hurt me.
He averts his gaze, shamed by her beauty.
CREATURE:
You're more lovely than I could ever have
imagined.
FOOTSTEPS come pounding up the stairs. A HEAVY CRASH of men
throwing their shoulders at the door...
VICTOR:
ELIZABETH!
... and it changes back in an instant, The Creature snarls.
She tries to wrench away. He spins her around so he won't
have to look at her in the light, casting her face in
(CONTINUED)
105
shadow. He cooks his arm back and plunges his fist toward
her chest with pile-driver force ...
INT - LANDING (OUTSIDE ROOM) - NIGHT
... and her SCREAM is cut short.-The men give one last mighty
rush at the door ...
... and they burst in just in time to see Elizabeth cascade
back onto the bed, her chest a massive red stain. The
Creature whips toward them, fist glistening with blood ...
CREATURE:
I keep my promises.
... and he races across the room as the men OPEN FIRE,
shredding the walls to splinters with an explosive fusillade
of shots. But the Creature is too fast. He hits the leaded
window head-on with the force of an anvil ...
EXT - CHALET - NIGHT
... and goes sailing out into empty space in a hurricane of
shattering glass. He drops 40 feet to the grass below and
vanishes like the breeze, greatcoat whipping into darkness.
Victor rushes to the bad and lets loose the most PRIMAL
SCREAM OF ALL. He sweeps his limp, murdered bride into his
arms, cradling her to his breast, screams trailing off into
wracking moans and sobs of despair:
VICTOR:
(softly)
oh God ... he took her heart...he took her heart
from me ...
EXT - CHALET - NIGHT
The men make way as Victor carries his dead wife through the
downpour. He puts her in the coach. Dazed.
EXT - ROAD - NIGHT
The coach comes racing through the storm, the horses in a
frenzy, faster and faster.
EXT - MANSION - NIGHT
Victor whipping the coach veers to a wild stop. Victor jumps
down, gathers up the body, and mounts the steps. Henry
appears, rushing out into the rain. Victor goes right past
him ...
(CONTINUED)
106
MANSION - NIGHT
... and carries Elizabeth through the silent halls.
ATTIC - NIGHT
The door swings in. Victor stands dripping. Holding
Elizabeth. Gazing at the gleam of copper ...
MONTAGE:
And we launch into the final throbbing madness. Victor
hacking and chopping. Discarding pieces. Sewing the
creation, yanking the catgut tight. Ramming the needles
deep. Hoisting the body in the air. Slamming the
sarcophagus lid, tightening the bolts. Powering up the
galvanic circuit, throwing the switch.
Screaming at God as the LIGHTNING FLASHES and the body
convulses. Wind and rain sweeping through the lab, battering
a window open and shut, open and shut. Lowering the glass
tube, ramming phallus into womb. Releasing the eels, huge
black sperm squirming and writhing toward the spasming egg
The body. Convulsing. Lashing. Screaming in the copper womb.
Hair whipping in the fluid ...
Victor shuts down the machinery. He opens the tank and
reaches into the fluid with his thick rubber gloves. He
pulls out his creation, cradling the head and neck as one
would cradle a newborn infant's ...
... And wipes the muck away with his glove to reveal
Elizabeth's face, Massive suture marks bisect her neck and
collarbone where pieces were joined. A whisper:
VICTOR:
Live.
Her eyes flies open as consciousness hits, mouth gaping to
draw air but finding fluid in the lungs. She erupts,
thrashing in the vat. He clutches her tight, pounding her
back to start her breathing, calming the convulsing
Creaturess with soft murmured words of tenderness and love
as her lungs heave violently to dispel the fluid ...
(CONTINUED)
107
He lifts her gently out. Wipes off the muck as she shivers
and shakes, spasms easing off. Cleansing her face. Clasping
her hand in his. Comfort and strength ...
Helping her to her feet. Jerky and unsure. Lean on me.
Replacing the sheer nightgown on her scarred and naked body,
draping it ... and finally, exhaustingly, tilting her chin
up with his fingers to gaze into her eyes. A whisper:
VICTOR:
Say my name.
Blank. Dazed. Stunned. Not a flicker of recognition.
VICTOR:
Elizabeth. Say my name. Say you remember. Say my
name.
Nothing. He leans forward ... and kisses her dead lips.
Gentle as a sigh. A flicker in her eyes?
VICTOR:
You must. You must.
Maybe his imagination. Still whispering:
VICTOR:
Say my name. Say you remember
And slowly ... ever so slowly ... she raises her bony white
hand before her eyes ... staring at it ... trying to puzzle
it out ... its meaning ... perhaps the vaguest shred of
recognition ... and the hand continues to rise ... creeping
slowly toward his shoulder ... and coining to rest there. He
smiles, blinking back tears ...
VICTOR:
Yes. I'll help you remember,
... and he takes her other hand in his. At first it's
imperceptible...just the slightest motion, perhaps nothing,
perhaps just a shift of balance ... and then it grows into
the vaguest sway ... and tears are glistening in Victor's
eyes as she begins to move. Lurching. Faltering. Unsure.
You must lead, Victor. The lady will always look to you for
guidance, so your steps must be sure and strong.
Trace memories.
A waltz.
And here we are treated to the most sweepingly romantic and
hair-raisingly demented image of the film: Frankenstein
dances with his dead bride, showing her the way, begging
(CONTINUED)
108
her to remember, please remember, and now our WALTZ/LOVE
THEME really comes back to haunt us as the MUSIC SWELLS,
incredibly lush and deranged, dissonant and echoing through
Victor's head, music only he can hear ...
VICTOR:
... one-two-three, twirl-two-three.
... and the worst part? The very worst thing of all? There
on the shelf. A large formaldehyde jar. Justine's severed
head. Watching them through the glass with dead, sightless
eyes. Watching them dance. Still a wallflower? No. She's
finally finishing her dance with Victor ... most of her,
anyway. Under the circumstances, it'll have to do ...
... and the waltz goes on, madder and madder, sweeping in
glorious circles as a dazzling array of LIGHTNING bathes
them in its wild, jittering spotlight, shadows careening
across the walls, INSANE MUSIC swelling louder and louder,
climbing higher and higher, reaching toward its crescendo
... and it all screeches to a stop as the door bursts in.
Music echoes abruptly away into silence. Nothing now but
rain and distant thunder. In the doorway:
CREATURE:
She's beautiful.
VICTOR:
She's not for you.
CREATURE:
I'm sure the lady knows her own mind. Doesn't
she? Let her decide the proper suitor.
The Creature raises his hand. Beckoning. She takes a
faltering step. Drawn to him.
VICTOR:
Elizabeth, no!
(she turns, puzzled)
Say my name.
Her face reflects horror and shame, like a brain-damaged
child who's wet the bed. She knows she's supposed to
remember ... but can't remember what remembering means.
They both motion to her. Murmuring. Begging. She's caught
between them, pulled like a diaphanous rope in a tug of war.
Please ... come with me. Please ... remember. She finally
tilts toward the Creature. Gazing into his eyes. Studying
his face. Fingertips tracing his massively
(CONTINUED)
109
scarred flesh. A beat. A frown. A puzzlement. This isn't
right. People don't look like this. They're not stitched
together out of pieces of flesh like a patchwork.
She looks at her own hands. Dead and white. Not even hers.
One belongs to Justine. Another to a prostitute, suture
scars marring the wrist. She looks down at herself. The
dead, sagging breasts. The body that isn't hers either.
Realization creeping into her eyes. Realization and horror.
Turning to Victor. Why do I look like this? What's happened
to me? Oh God, what's happened to me?
ELIZABETH:
Vic ... tor?
CREATURE:
... no ...
... and she lets out a SHRIEK, a banshee wail from the
deepest pits of hell. Screaming at them both. Screaming at
herself. She goes berserk, trying to claw her flesh away,
try to find the real Elizabeth underneath the horror,
trying to peel it away, clawing at her face. trying to Claw
out her own eyes.
Victor lunges to restrain her, screaming himself, veering
toward final utter madness like strings snapping on a
violin. The Creature grabs him, hurls him aside.
CREATURE:
GET AWAY FROM HER! SHE'S MINEI
VICTOR:
SHE'LL NEVER BE YOURS! SHE SAID MY NAME! SHE
REMEMBERS!
Yes. She remembers. Not much, but enough. She breaks away
from them as they grapple, still SHRIEKING as she sails
across the room, tipping furniture, equipment flying ...
... over straight to the kerosene lamp, snatching it up
before they can stop her.
VICTOR:
NO!
She spins to face them, holding them breathlessly at bay
with the threat of the lamp, twitching from one to the
other. But it's not just the lamp, it's the look of sheer
loathing in her eyes. Loathing for them for what they've
done to her ... loathing for herself for what she's become.
It turns out the lady does know her own mind. She wants no
part of it ... or them. Decision made. She crushes the lamp
in her bare hands, drenching herself in a cascade of
(CONTINUED)
110
kerosene. WHOOOOSH! She goes up like a blazing matchstick
and darts past them, still SHRIEKING, still trying to claw
the dead flesh away, pulling off giant flaming pieces of
herself as she careens out the door and down the steps,
Victor and the Creature racing after her ...
... and she sails down the hallway, setting FIRE to
everything she passes, SCREAMING for the final torment to
end. she hurls herself over the railing, drapes catching
ablaze as she plummets to the floor far below. a pillar of
flame leaps up on impact.
VICTOR AND THE CREATURE face each other as flames sweep the
walls, combusting the upper hallway into a raging tunnel in
Hell.
VICTOR:
You killed her! You killed her!
He hurls himself at the Creature, who backhands him spinning
down the hallway, sprawling to the floor. The Creature gazes
down at his Maker one last time ...
CREATURE:
We killed her
And then vanishes through the smoke and flames.
EXT - FRANIKENSTEIN ESTATE - DAY
The once-magnificent estate lies in smoldering ruin beneath
a merciless gray sky. Charred beams and drifting smoke are
all that remain to mark the passing of a noble family.
Victor stands gazing at the house. A windswept, hollow man
Bundled in a rough coat. Flintlock rifle dangling at his
side. Henry moves into frame some distance behind. Softly:
HENRY:
Victor.
No reaction. For a long moment it seems Victor hasn't heard.
He rouses as if from a trance, turn and walks to his pack
horse. The animal stands saddled and ready.
He starts to mount up, but Henry intercepts him with a
restraining hand. Victor snaps a look as if seeing a
stranger ... and then his features soften.
VICTOR:
All that I once loved lies in a shallow grave. By
my hand.
(CONTINUED)
111
HENRY:
Let it go.
Victor pauses, emotions swirling. Wishing he could grab the
dangling thread of sanity Henry has offered ... but knowing
the thread is a bittersweet illusion. A bare whisper:
VICTOR:
You should have been my father's son. He would
have been so proud.
Victor abruptly heaves himself into the saddle and spurs his
horse. Henry runs after him, shouting:
HENRY:
VICTOR! COME BACK!
But Victor keeps riding without so much as a backward
glance. The past is dead. Henry watches Victor until he's
gone from sight, as Willie did so long ago ...
EXT - MONT BIAANC GLACIER - DAY
The solitary rider and his mount traverse the windswept
glacier ...
INT - THE CREATUREIIS CAVE - DAY
Victor slides down the entrance, rifle cradled. The cave is
now deserted, all possessions gone, a scorched black spot
where the campfire had been ...
EXT - GLACIER - DAY
A panorama of snow. Pristine...save for the long trail of
footprints stretching off before us.
Victor's face thrusts into frame, gazing at the craggy
horizon, breath punching the air with billows of vapor.
He slogs onward, following the tracks, leading his horse by
the reins. Dwindling across the frozen landscape.
ARCTIC VICTOR (V.O.)
I followed his trail north ... always north ...
and always one step behind ... never
stopping...driven by my fires of rage ... and
revenge ...
DISSOLVE TO:
INT - WALTON"S CABIN - TWILIGHT
Victor lies in Walton's bed, sallow as a corpse, barely able
to speak, drained now of everything.
(CONTINUED)
112
VICTOR:
A year now I've followed him. Perhaps more. Only
to arrive at this place. Tired. So very tired. I
never did find ... whatever it was...I was looking
for...and neither will you, my friend.
(off Walton's look)
Value life above ambition ... or those glittering
prizes you seek will crumble to dust in your
fingers... as they have in mine.
(reaches out feverishly)
See your loved ones again. I cannot.
Walton takes Victor's hand, lays it gently back to his
chest. Softly:
WALTON:
Rest now.
Victor is silent. His breathing shallow. Walton just sits
And waits...
A SLOW DISSOLVE marks the passage of Walton's long vigil ...
Victor's eyes flutter open as if staring at something
unseen. Perhaps, the faces of those he loved. The eyes
glaze. A peaceful death. Walton rises. Puts on his heavy
coat to ward off the chill. Exits the cabin.
EXT - NEVSKY - ON DECK - TWILIGHT
Grigori is leaning on the gunwale, staring off across the
ice. His coat is open. Walton joins him. Surprised at how
warm it is. He holds up his hand, testing the breeze.
WALTON:
A warming wind.
GRIGORI:
This ice will break yet.
(glances over)
How's our guest?
WALTON:
He died. Raving about phantoms. He was mad, poor
devil.
(beat)
Gather a detail. Have the body removed from my
cabin.
(CONTINUED)
113
GRIGORI:
Aye, Captain.
Grigori moves off to gather help. Walton turns and heads
back to his cabin.
Walton enters ... and freezes at the sound of SOFT WEEPING.
He can't see the bad from here. Could it be the dead man? He
glances down. Wet footprints lead across the floor.
He eases forward. The tiny bed chamber comes slowly into
view. A DARK FIGURE is hunched and weeping at bedside,
holding the corpse's hand. Walton is stunned.
WALTON:
Who are you?
The figure swivels its head, revealing its face to the dim
yellow light:
CREATURE:
He never gave me a name.
Walton hisses a terrified intake of breath. He lunges to the
desk, slaps his hand on the pistol lying there. A frozen
beat. Wondering if he should snatch it up. Eyes dancing with
fear and speculation. The Creature makes no move.
Unconcerned.
CREATURE:
You were with him at the end.
WALTON:
(finds his voice)
Yes.
CREATURE:
I was watching.
Walton glances to the porthole, ajar and creaking in the
breeze, chilled at the thought. The Creature returns his
gaze to Victor.
CREATURE:
I longed to be with him. But I wanted his final
moments to have peace. I could see you were a
friend to him.
WALTON:
What is that to you? Evil as you are.
(CONTINUED)
114
CREATURE:
(swivels his gaze)
I am as he made me. In his own image.
WALTON:
You drove him to his torment.
CREATURE:
And he drove me to mine.
WALTON:
Then why weep for him?
CREATURE:
Would you not? He was father. And mother. We fell
from grace together. He from his God. I from mine.
The Creature gently strokes Victor's cheek. He reaches up
with two fingers, closes the staring eyes. A whisper:
CREATURE:
Could we ever have forgiven?
The question goes unanswered. The Creature rises, gliding in
shadow to the door. Pauses.
CREATURE:
I've never been shown a kindness. Show me one
now.
WALTON:
What kindness?
CREATURE:
Build for him a pyre. Light up the sky with his
passing.
And then the Creature is gone, vanishing smoothly into the
night ...
EXT - ARCTIC - TWILIGHT
The crew of the Nevsky are on the ice, chopping up the
fallen mast, axes rising and falling in waves ...
EXT - ARCTIC - TWILIGHT
The body of Victor Frankenstein lies on an impressive bier
of wood, stacked and lashed. His body is wrapped in rough
canvas, his face as dead and white as the ice.
Walton and crew stand facing the bier. Walton silently reads
a passage from the Bible. Oily black smoke from a small
campfire drifts past.
(CONTINUED)
115
Walton closes the book. Amens are muttered. Walton glances
to Grigori and nods. Grigori moves forward with two other
men. They begin dousing the pyre with lamp oil, soaking it.
Walton moves to the campfire, picks up an unlit torch. He
dips it into the fire, igniting-the pitch, turns. The men
back away, preparing for the coming blaze...
... and a dog starts howling on deck, others joining in.
The men pause. Gazing across the ice. Dread seeping into
their bones. There's a figure out there. Huge and humanlike
in frame. Loping slowly over the ice. Approaching.
PILOT:
(softly)
Christ.
Grigori snatches up the rifle, shoulders it smoothly, c*cks
the flintlock. Walton glances over, pushes the muzzle
skyward, denying his aim.
WALTON:
It has a right to bear witness
Grigori hesitates, nods. If you say so. The men grow more
unsettled as the Creature draws nearer. Frightened
muttering. Men start backing toward the ship.
WALTON:
Stand fast. All of you.
The men stand fast. The Creature stops some thirty yards
out. A silent tableau on the ice. The men facing the
Creature. Walton holding the torch. The pyre waiting for the
kiss of flame. Walton moves forward ...
... and a THUNI)EROUS CRACK is heard, The men whip their
heads as a gigantic plate of ice goes spinning into the air
some fifty yards away and comes crashing back down again.
It's like tectonic plates building pressure toward an
earthquake:
once it goes, it goes with terrifying speed andforce:
CRACY! Another eruption. CRACK! And another. CRACK!Ice cascading skyward.
OLD SAILOR:
THE B*TCH IS BREAKIN' UP!
GRIGORI:
(whips toward Walton)
Walton rushes forward. CRACK! The ice erupts before him. The
torch goes flying. Walton sprawls flat on his back.
(CONTINUED)
116
WALTON:
The men don't have to be told twice. They're already in full
retreat, scrambling for their lives. Ice is detonating for
miles around as if pounded by artillery. Grigori helps
Walton to his feet. The torch lies burning not ten feet
away. A heartbeat of hesitation. Walton wondering if he
should go for it. Grigori pulling wildly on his sleeve ...
GRIGORI:
LEAVE IT!
... and then the matter is decided for them as a huge rift
opens at their feet, running an explosive zig-zag course
across the ice, separating them from the torch.
They fall back to join the retreat, stumbling after the
others, pursued by the ice dissolving at their heels.
THE CREATURE watches his last wish for Victor Frankenstein
snatched away by God's whim and breaking ice.
No
He starts forward. Behind him, a detonation of ice throws a
massive fist into the air, creating a magnificent halo of
cascading water and spinning fragments.
THE NEVSKY:
The first wave of fleeing men reach the ship, crowding to
the drop-net for salvation, scrambling up the side.
WALTON AND GRIGORI stumble along, closing distance to the
ship. Walton glances back, amazed to see:
THE CREATURE:
racing across the ice, making for the torch, teeth set in a
wide grimace of effort. Detonations threaten to swallow him
from all sides. Suddenly, things go from bad to worse.
THE NEVSKY:
breaks free with an enormous groan, heeling slowly over,
triggering massive eruptions in all directions. The crew
hang onto the drop-net for dear life. Several men plummet
into the icy water.
(CONTINUED)
117
THE CREATURE is propelled by a detonation as if held stepped
on a land mine, cartwheeling helplessly through the air to
plunge headfirst into the water, huge plates of spinning ice
crashing down after him. Gone.
WALTON AND GRIGORI are knocked flat as a fissure appears
between them. Grigori, dazed, is lifted into the air on a
teetering table of ice, desperately trying to scramble back
but sliding forward nonetheless, rising up and up, a gaping
maw of frigid water yawning wider and wider before him.
Walton grabs the back of Grigori's coat and tries to drag
him off ... but the coat is snatched from his fingers as the
ice see-saws forward in a complete flip and slams Grigori
thunderously into the drink.
WALTON:
GRIGORI!
THE NEVSKY finishes righting itself, swaying ponderously as
she finds honest ocean beneath her hull. Some men are
reaching the top of the net, hurling themselves over the
gunwale to the deck. Those lower on the drop-net are helping
their fellows from the water, hauling them to safety.
FRANKENSTEIN'S BIER is now corkscrewing in slow circles on
its own ice floe.
THE TORCH is drifting on a chunk of ice. Still burning.
Walton is on hands and knees, scrambling on shifting pieces
of ice, thrusting his arms into the water, screaming:
WALTON:
GRIGORI!
The first mate breaks surface in the foreground, gasping and
strangling for breath, face already turning blue, arms
thrashing wildly, dragged down by the now-impossible weight
of his own clothing.
Walton strains to reach him, nearly going into the water
himself. Grigori keeps thrashing and gasping. Dying. He's
dying right in front of Walton's eyes.
(CONTINUED)
118
WALTON:
Too late. Grigori goes down for the final time, vanishing
for good beneath the frigid water. Gone. Walton throws his
head back with a bellow of anguish ...
... and Grigori breaks the surface again, rising slowly And
impossibly from the water. arms and legs windmill against
the air, propelled from below with nearly aulic strength. He
gazes down in shock at the massive fist clutching his chest
... and the arm that grows and grows, rising, lifting him up
and up ... and the hideous face that breaks the surface
beneath him. The face of a nightmare.
The Creature lunges hugely, hurling Grigori through the air
right into Walton's arms. Both men go sprawling. Walton
scrambles to his knees, makes eye contact with the Creature.
The monster is exhausted. Near his limit. Walton thrusts out
his arm, fingers grasping to help.
WALTON:
Swim.
The Creature swivels his gaze. The burning torch is drifting
away. He looks grimly back to Walton. Walton beckoning to
him. Come. Grab my hand.
The Creature swims away, knifing through the water after the
torch. Walton turns, drags Grigori gasping to his feet,
helps him limp toward the Nevsky across the lurching ice.
CREATURE struggles through the water, crushed and battered
by ice floes on all sides. Going under.
WALTON AND GRIGORI slog grimly on across the disintegrated
ice, knee-deep and nearly walking on water. They sink,
finding nothing beneath their feet. Lines are thrown down
and caught.
Walton and Grigori are hauled from the frigid arctic water
and hoisted up the side of the ship. The last ones aboard.
BURNING TORCH is spinning slowly on its chunk of ice. Bony
fingers break the surface of the water. A straining hand.
The Creature's eyes rise from the murk. Bleary with
exhaustion and cold. He seizes the torch. Raises it high.
Swims grimly on.
(CONTINUED)
119
ABOARD THE NEVSKY
The crew bundle Walton and Grigori in blankets, both men
shivering with exposure. Walton lurches to the gunwale,
gazing off. The men crowd to his-side.
THE CREATURE swims on, head barely breaking the water, torch
held high to keep it burning. Relentlessly determined. This
is the most grueling effort we've ever seen. Gasping and
sinking beneath the surface ...
... and finally grasping with frozen fingers the ice floe
upon which lies Frankenstein's funeral pyre. He hauls
himself from the water. Moving now in a slow-motion litany
of exhaustion. Climbing the pyre. Scaling the wood. Seeking
The Creature joins his Maker atop the bier, straddling the
wood, holding the torch aloft as if lighting his master's
way to the Netherworld, Frankenstein's personal boatman
across the River Styx. Frankenstein himself lies serenely at
his creation's knees, content to be shown the way ...
The Creature turns his face to the sky, gulping air,
spreading his arms wide in sublime triumph. Feeling the wind
on his skin, the sleet on his face, the grim joy in his
heart. Cold. So very cold.
He glances at the torch burning low in his outstretched
hand, pitch almost gone, sputtering and trailing smoke. He
looks down. At Frankenstein. The oil-soaked canvas. The
saturated wood. There's that smell. Yes. He scoops Victor
up with his free arm and cradles him to his breast, as
tender as a mother comforting a baby.
WALTON AND THIE CREW gaze in horror. Realization dawning:
GRIGORI (softly)
Don't do it ...
(screaming)
FOR GOD'S SAKE! DON'T DO IT!
THE CREATURE:
turns his gaze one last time toward Heaven. Eyelids
fluttering in near-religious ecstasy. Finding in these last
moments the sympathy held so long sought. A whisper:
(CONTINUED)
120
CREATURE:
For God's sake ... I will.
And he rams the torch into the pyre beneath him. White-hot
ignition. Ultimate redemption. WHUMPI A massive BALL OF
FLAME engulfs the bier, pushing a huge fiery fist into the
sky. Blossoming. Roiling.
WALTON AND THE CREW gaze on in wonder and horror as:
THE CREATURE rides the burning pyre, a shrieking revenant
wrapped in a caul of fire, screaming in the flames. Hair
going up at a sizzling flashpoint. Cheeks billowing out,
peeling back in the blast-furnace heat. Flesh cleansing from
bone. Teeth charring and turning black. Still cradling
Victor. Still screaming. waiting for the final torment to
end. Perhaps it never will ...
FRANKENSTEIN'S PYRE drifts off into the arctic twilight
trailing a huge column of flame and smoke, inhuman screams
echoing endlessly. Lost in the darkness and distance.
WALTON stands at the gunwale, his crew at his side. The
borealis dances mysteriously on the horizon. Distant slivers
of lightning kiss the world. Softly:
WALTON:
Home
EXT - ARCTIC - TWILIGHT
HIGH AERIAL SHOT. An ocean of broken ice beneath us. The
Alexander Nevsky heels gingerly about, corkscrewing through
a slow turn toward the open sea as we FADE TO BLACK
THE END:
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