Netflix’s new special Frankenstein’s Monster’s Monster, Frankenstein is a miniature masterpiece of auteur absurdism that dares to ask one of life’s most important questions: What if Orson Welles was Ed Wood? The special utilizes the mockumentary style popularized by Christopher Guest, and later perfected by the series Documentary Now!
It tells the fictional story of David Harbour III as he unravels the mysterious past of his father, legendary actor David Harbour Jr. This quest for information and closure is inter-cut with David Harbour Jr.’s passion project, a made-for-TV play entitled Frankenstein’s Monster’s Monster, Frankenstein.
The Play
Audiences have always had a morbid fascination with failed vanity projects, especially with films that are “so bad that they’re good.” Ed Wood’s Plan 9 from Outer Space is a cultural touchstone, and just two years ago, The Disaster Artist debuted to critical acclaim. Frankenstein’s Monster’s Monster, Frankenstein however, isn’t The Room or Birdemic. It’s something deeper, more substantial.
I grew up watching the 1960 made-for-TV stage play, Peter Pan, starring Mary Martin. It was ridiculous; cheap, overindulgent, meandering, and melodramatic. Some of these failings can be attributed to the strange genre. A television show requires a certain amount of subtlety to suspend disbelief, but in the theater, actors must exaggerate their speech and movement to be seen and heard. Theater productions don’t truly come alive until they are performed in front of an audience, but the television screen separates the audience from the actors.
For example, The Producers was a huge hit on Broadway, but received lukewarm reviews when adapted into film, despite both projects being functionally identical. The actors’ performances and the excessive set design were perfect for a larger than life musical, but these elements failed when translated into the language of film. Without the energy of a full house, the drawn-out musical set pieces became interminably dull. Lacking laughter from fellow audience members, the jokes fell tragically flat.
A made-for-TV play brings out the worst in both of its mediums, making the stage production feel cheap, and the television production feel overblown. Yet, in the 1950’s and 1960’s, due to the limitations of their respective mediums at the time, made-for TV stage plays were all the rage.
Frankenstein’s Monster’s Monster, Frankenstein dives deep into the absurd truth of nostalgia. These specials aren’t classics because they’re good. They’re classics because we watched them.
Quality isn’t the only attribute that defines a “classic.” More often than not, the films and television shows that stand the test of time are not the greatest of their generation. They are merely the pieces that survived, and we retroactively assign them importance based on their durability.
The Laughs
The comedy in this special is largely derived from the cheapness of the production of Frankenstein’s Monster’s Monster, Frankenstein. The set is lushly designed, but flimsy. Especially the front door, which never latches properly. (Every theater kid has a memory of battling an unruly prop door.)
The staging is atrocious, with actors appearing from the wrong stage entrances and walking tedious circles around each other to hit their marks. The acting is intentionally bad all around, but my favorite moments are from Heather Lawless, who turns in a remarkably wooden performance as the Doctor. Of course, there’s Chekhov’s Gun. The special reminds you over and over and over again, “You’re gonna fire it.”
The Greatest Auteur
David Harbour is clearly channeling Orson Welles for his performance of Dr. Frankenstein, and why shouldn’t he? Orson Welles is a fascinating character study, an auteur only in hindsight. When we talk about Orson Welles, we do so with the benefit of decades of cinematic wisdom under our belts.
We all know that Orson Welles is one of the greatest actors and directors of all time. After all, Citizen Kane sits comfortably at the number 1 spot on AFI’s 100 Greatest American Films of All Time. Despite this, Orson Welles was largely considered an outsider in his day; an upstart, a financial failure, and by his own admission, a liar.
In F for Fake, Orson Welles outlines how he lied to get his first acting jobs. He claimed to be a famous trained stage actor, even though he was nothing of the sort. David Harbour Jr. claims he went to Julliard, but did he? Orson Welles appeared in commercials for champagne, commercials which were later discovered to have been heavily edited around his inebriation. Meanwhile, David Harbour Jr. slurs his words as he endorses steak during the commercial breaks for Frankenstein’s Monster’s Monster, Frankenstein.
This characterization of David Harbour Jr. reflects the public’s dual understanding of Orson Welles. We talk about him as if he was the god of cinema, but we also use his name as a punchline. “Wow, Orson Welles as Charles Foster Kane was a revelation. Isn’t it funny how sloppy and desperate he was at the end of his career?“
Final Thoughts
Frankenstein’s Monster’s Monster, Frankenstein is a dense work of tragic comedy. It’s a love letter to all things cheap and inauthentic. David Harbour III regularly tells the camera that he is searching for the truth, but he isn’t. Not really.
He’s searching for meaning, which is a different quest entirely. Sometimes the greatest meaning can be derived from the most fabricated of sources. And so, David Harbour Jr.’s imaginary legacy lives on. If you have a taste for the absurd and 30 minutes to spare, I highly recommend this affectionate parody.
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