It serves no artistic purpose whatsoever to misrepresent a groundbreaking, trend-setting work of literature by making a cheap shock-oriented horror movie out of it. But Hollywood has always been up to its botoxed eyebrows in ego, so literary integrity has been stifled to death by producers who dare to think they can improve on a classic by making it a monster movie.

I refer not to any one specific movie in this particular case, but to a full 100 years of obstinate hack-jobs of Mary Shelley’s “Frankenstein.”

Written by an eighteen year old girl named Mary Godwin (who married poet Percy Shelley during the course of its writing), “Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus” is considered the most famous of gothic horror novels. But if you haven’t actually read the book, you don’t have a clue what it’s really about.

This is not a common case of condensing material to fit within two hours, or not being technologically savvy enough to depict the story’s events. The many film productions of “Frankenstein” all commit the sin of omitting any intellectual content that may “challenge” the audience. In short, they think we’re too stupid to get it.

Or maybe they’re too stupid to get it.

The story addresses the obligation of parents and society to nurture their young, and is heavy on philosophy, metaphysics, religion, politics, literature, et cetera. In the novel, there is NO “Doctor” Frankenstein, NO lurching monster called Frankenstein, NO lab assistant named Ygor, NO assembly of stolen corpses, and NO lightning storm to bring the creature to life. Every murder has a clear motive, including a powerful abortion scene.

Written with grace in a rich poetic style, the structure of the story is quite unique by any standard. It uses flashbacks within flashbacks, and a full third of the book is narrated in first person by The Creature.

Yes, narrated. The Creature, eight feet tall, as graceful as it is powerful, speaks several languages and travels throughout Europe. The author gave it no name in order to make a point. It tells its story with passion and pathos, and it is clear throughout that the real monster is Victor Frankenstein, the ultimate deadbeat dad.

These lazy producers (who hire the writers, directors, actors, etc.) will claim that they are “translating” the literature to another art form, but what they’re really doing is taking the easy road to cheap thrills and a quick box office buck. This form of censorship is tantamount to book-burning, a Hollywood gang mentality that conspires to remove the original work from public awareness. Their productions constantly strip away the moral complexities of “Frankenstein” to expose the scary skeleton of the story – the lie that remains after the facts are destroyed.

Six-Eye Jackson

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