Having never read the original text of Frankenstein nor seen a film adaptation (a truly humiliating confession considering Wikipedia informs me there have been no less than six to date), I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect of the first volume of the celebrated novel. Popular culture has for decades parodied the mad-scientist-and-his-monster relationship, with arguably an entire sub-genre of science fiction spring boarding off it, and I’ve been raised identifying Frankenstein’s lumbering experiment as little more than an uninspired Halloween decoration with heavy handed “science vs. nature” warnings plastered all over it. Most likely due to the “Weird Al Effect” (that is, people beginning to associate more with a parody/exaggeration of something to the point where the original is obscured or lost) I began reading under assumptions vastly different than the presented material.
The most jarring difference between the novel and the clichés born from it is, at least so far, the characterization of the scientist. Anyone raised off Animaniacs as I was (or any old school cartoon, really) can rattle off a description of Dr. Frankenstein without blinking twice. Lab coats have never been more in style, lighting has never been more properly timed, and since the exclamation “IT’S ALIVE!!” has never held any dramatic merit whatsoever. Surprisingly though, or perhaps unsurprising to those who don’t relate actual professions with their animated equivalents, the character we meet in the narrative has little to no connection to his crazed stereotypical mirror. The Frankenstein of the story is incredibly weighed down by regret, and as he delves deeper into his past with Walton we’re introduced to a not only passionate but relatable human being.
Horrified at what he’s accomplished, Frankenstein not only seeks to try and repair his mistake but is depressingly aware at the dark fate before him. Sure, the wild madman with the spark in his eye for SCIENCE! can be glimpsed in his youth, but the man Walton and the readers over his shoulder meet is reserved and nostalgic for a happier, innocent time. Who among us hasn’t at one point or another gotten lost in memory when things get tough? Frankenstein realizes his faults and takes it upon himself to do what he assumes can only lead to his ultimate demise. It’s a very identifiable trait amongst pretty much any sound minded person and the fact that came from a character of the same cackling archetype that concocted Pinky and Brain was quite a shock
