Acclaimed Sequels

The Bride of Frankenstein

Before Sunset

As a natural follow up to the randomness of last week’s dose of 1960s surrealism, I felt like it made sense to stick with the random, and view a seemingly disparate pairing of films: each beloved in their own ways, unprecedented in their successes, and always heralded as some of the best sequels of all time. My original plan was to watch George A. Romero’s 1978 classic Dawn of the Dead and Francis Ford Coppola’s highly admired The Godfather Part II, because I wanted to see for myself if these sequels actually were better than the originals. Dawn of the Dead, as it would turn out, is not available on any streaming services. (I later found a copy on Youtube but I’ve yet to investigate it.) And as it would turn out, The Godfather Part II is an abominable 3 hours and 22 minutes. If you know me, you know that three of my favorite contributions to pop culture revolve around Italian-Americans (The Sopranos, Jersey Shore, The Real Housewives of New Jersey, obviously), but I just cannot do over 3 hours, especially if I’m planning on watching two films. If it were only over 2 hours and had Teresa Guidice in it, I might reconsider, but The Godfather Part II made me an offer that I did indeed refuse. And I have no regrets, because I really really enjoyed tonight’s films. The 1935 film Bride of Frankenstein, one of the first film sequels and thus franchises ever created, and Richard Linklater’s sweet slice of life sequel Before Sunset. These films also occupy space in what is perhaps my favorite genre of romance: fleeting love affairs. What would’ve happened if Frankenstein’s monster got to run off with his Bride, and what if Julia Delpy had shown up to meet with Ethan Hawke 6 months after their serendipitous meeting, as they had planned? The simultaneous beauty, and tragedy of these films is that their brief encounters are too good, too unexpected, too kismet to be true. The excitement of their love affairs might just be lost if they were to actually, fully pursue them. James Whale’s 1935 classic The Bride of Frankenstein was a brief but bewitching experience, made all the more haunting by Boris Karloff, who’s icon status was at that point already so established that he’s credited without his first name. The Bride of Frankenstein essentially picks up where the original left off, an angry mob dispersing from the site where they killed the beast, or so they think. Frankenstein was a story about a man trying to play god, and the way that dilutes him and puts himself in dangerous positions. The Bride of Frankenstein is about a man and a fellow mad scientist, and their desire to create a life together, no homo. In what is perhaps the funniest and most heartbreaking film I’ve seen in awhile, The Bride of Frankenstein solidified its icon status and then some. The special effects were blowing my mind, the jokes were making me laugh, and I truly couldn’t ever wrap my mind around the fact that this was 1935. From the very start of the film, it feels ahead of its time. We begin with Mary Shelley Wollstonecraft, the author of Frankenstein, who agrees to the wishes of her friend Lord Byron to tell him and her husband what happens after her book ends. She begins with a much-apppreciated “previously on”—a recap that greatly came in handy for this viewer, who hasn’t technically seen the Frankenstein film that came before it. Listen, I’ve seen Young Frankenstein and Alvin and the Chipmunks Meet Frankenstein upwards of 10 times so I think I’ve got the gist. I was always afraid that it would be sad, and my feelings were ultimately validated by watching its sequel, which was comprised of more suffering than science. There were some exquisite shots, particularly when Frankenstein’s monster is in the forrest, but mostly of the Bride herself, and the scene where she is brought to life. There were sparks and stunts and death drops of more than one variety, and then the mummy bandages are removed and Miss Bride was serving. Her face and wig and body was snatched and she is an icon, she’s a legend, and she is the moment, and yet home girl hardly gets any screen time! I was very pleasantly surprised by this film, and how much story it told in an hour and 15 minutes, but I was disappointed that we hardly got to know the titular bride!! There were some incredibly dedicated performances, both dramatically and comedically, and an overall sense of empathy for this monster, which was just as appreciated as it was gut-wrenching. The empathy carried right over to the rare indie sequel that is Before Sunset. I’d heard the hype around this series for awhile, but wasn’t sold until I watched Before Sunrise, and was reminded that Linklater’s not in the business of making bad movies. I mean, what can I say, my two favorite films are Heathers and Call Me By Your Name so I definitely have a thing for ill-fated romances—especially when they feel so genuine. The optimism and charm of Before Sunrise is still present in Before Sunset, but from a perspective that is now older and wiser. Before Sunset takes place 9 years after Celine and Jesse spent a fateful evening together, each grappling with their own newfound issues and paranoia and “what ifs”. Whether we’re talking about Dazed and Confused or School of Rock, Richard Linklater knows how to write realistic dialogue and compelling characters. Watching these Before films feels like you’ve sat down near a couple on a date having the most interesting and intimate conversations, and you almost feel bad for listening in but the confidence in the way they speak seems like silent permission. These films have a way of making you want to romanticize every exciting, mysterious, transitory encounter you’ve ever had, no matter how sudden or swift. It makes you think of that one Whole Foods employee with whom you’ve chatted only once but it felt so easy that you contemplate things as dramatic and delusional as: wait are we falling in love at this cash register right now? Before Sunrise, but Before Sunset especially highlighted the lovely but torturous reality of these love affairs, and how tempted we are to recreate or relive the past, no matter how painful or impossible that feels. It’s about the complicated nature of desire, life in its ever-flowing, ever-insisting to change. I wrote my senior thesis on essentially every ephemeral thing I’ve just mentioned, so at the risk of writing another I’ll shut up and just say that whether you’re a romantic or a cynic, a mad scientist or a monster, these films actually are worth the hype and you should watch them! And maybe one day I’ll watch The Godfather Part II but for now? Forgettaboutit.