 Gods and Monsters (1998) When Ian McKellan first appears as James Whale, director of Frankenstein, The Bride of Frankenstein, The Invisible Man, and Show Boat, it's easy to assume that his isolated life in a pleasant but vaguely lonely Beverly Hills home in the 1950s will merely serve as bookend to the story of how Frankenstein got made. But the thing is, his isolated life in a vaguely lonely Beverly Hills home in the 1950s actuallyis the story. About twenty minutes in, I suddenly realized there were going to be no long flashbacks to the filming of Frankenstein or Bride, at which point I stopped resisting and began to enjoy myself (which could also describe my first sexual encounter). Basically, Gods and Monsters is a love story, neither traditional nor overtly homosexual, although Whale's forthright gayness is far more important here than the fact that he was ever a famous film director. The love story in question is between Whale (who spends his days pretty much waiting for people to call on him, or visiting the doctor regarding his recent stroke) and his gardener Clayton Boone (Brendan Fraser). At first glance, Boone is just a good-looking, probably dumb young man for Whale, who is an ardent admirer of the male form. But once Whale has convinced Boone to pose for a drawing, they begin to talk. And once they begin to talk, a relationship develops based on the tenuous trust of two people who agree implicitly that they "get something" from each other: Whale gets to draw and pontificate and bask in the presence of physical beauty, Boone gets some cash and an ego boost. But these complex and fascinating characters don't just go to the mall and the lake to discover the joys of friendship. They are forced to confront their own worst fears, which are surprisingly similar: the fear of being alone and unwanted and irrelevant. Matters are further complicated by the fact that Whale clearly wants to have a "private party" with Boone (but knows it will never happen), while Boone is extremely uncomfortable with being in the presence of someone who wants him "like that." Meanwhile, Whale knows his body is degenerating exponentially faster than his mind, so fast that although he can remember every detail of his horrible sojourn as a British soldier in WWI, he needs help sometimes buttoning his shirts. Yet in the end the two men gain a full-blown respect for each other, and a platonic, impossible-to-categorize love. Granted, all this vague and overt homoeroticism would, if presented in high school English class, provoke waves of nervous laughter, but the film is not at all exploitative and somehow manages to gleefully play off the straight audience's potential discomfort by making Boone our sometimes reluctant eyes and ears. All while the characters continue to find the joy, horror, and black humor of their circumstances. This is a gross simplification of an emotionally complex film that really deserves to be seen and widely acknowledged as great. Brief elements of the Frankenstein films appear as nightmares or flashbacks that are relevant to the events in the "present." There are also flashbacks/nightmares of WWI. And parallels drawn between the cinematic creation of Frankenstein's monster and Whale's increasingly bizarre, desperate desire to fashion Boone into something of service to Whale. Boone flexes his heterosexuality after a particularly vulnerable moment with Whale by screwing the first attractive woman he encounters. The strange and chilling climax presents a culmination of the sadness, longing, desperation, fear, and love that marks these characters. Gods and Monsters is based on a novel in which the character of Boone is entirely made up. Yet this is probably one of the best and most interesting protagonists of any drama in a long time, ditto for Whale, and double ditto for their incredible and haunting relationship. Ian McKellan gives a sublime performance, with some cool metacontext in him being an openly gay actor—certainly his own acceptance by the public says something about how times have changed. In the 1950s, there were NO openly gay Wizards, now there is ONE! But my feeling is Brendan Fraser, and don't laugh, gives the best performance of the film. Since we already know McKellan is a "great" actor, and since Fraser is branded as Encino Man and George of the Jungle, he has by far the tougher job. Fraser is truly amazing, conveying everything you think Boone should be feeling, and slipping in at least two or three additional emotions you didn't expect. He carries the film with a conflicted weariness that oddly enough grows into a kind of innocence as the film develops. He shows us how Boone changes in subtle and convincing ways, is utterly brilliant in his final, bittersweet scene. I cannot forget the contribution of Lynn Redgrave as Whale's housekeeper Hannah, a devout Catholic who loves, despises, and fears her employer, who thinks of him as her de facto husband, and who tries to protect him from himself even after decades of failure. I am already surprised, looking back at this review, at how strongly I feel about this film after most similar films would seem to disappear into my foggy memory … how this movie has grown on me, and how much I'd like to see it again. It's a film that kind of sneaks up on you until you find yourself thinking about it very late into the early morning hours, fantasizing about Brendan Fraser with fevered and explicit visualizations. Hm, now that probably more accurately describes my first sexual encounter.
Review by Crimedog |