If Sydney’s stages are anything to go by, gothic literature is all the rage. Just as we’ve closed the book on the final chapter of Kip Williams’ thematic cine-theatre trilogy with STC, the national tour of Shake & Stir Theatre Co’s new adaptation of Frankenstein has arrived at the Theatre Royal.
This new take on Mary Shelley’s none-more-seminal 1818 novel continues to divide critics, and for this writer, it brings to mind a couple of other notable literary adaptations, specifically two key moments. One is from Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings where, upon being offered the One Ring by Frodo, Cate Blanchett’s Galadriel muses that she would become “…beautiful and terrible”. You could say that this version of Frankenstein is both of those things. The other is from David Cronenberg’s A History of Violence, based on the graphic novel by John Wagner and Vince Locke – after his goons fail to kill Viggo Mortensen’s regular fella murder machine, mob boss William Hurt muses, “How do you f**k that up?” So far, an answer has not been forthcoming.
It all starts so promisingly, too, as the prow of a ship looms towards the audience through a dense fog, and we’re dropped into the novel’s Arctic-set framing device – an element rarely explored in most adaptations outside of Kenneth Branagh’s muddled and histrionic 1994 film (this production owes many debts to Branagh’s). There, explorer Captain Robert Walton (Nick James) finds anguished scientist Victor Frankenstein (Darcy Brown), near death and harried by the creature he created.
Good stuff! Designer Josh McIntosh’s work is impressive, especially when combined with the lighting design by Trent Suidgeest and video projections designed by Craig Wilkinson, who together manage to use a few rising flats (not to mention the odd burst of pyrotechnics) to take us from the Arctic Circle to the Frankenstein family home in Naples, Germany’s University of Ingolstadt (where our driven antihero learns his anatomy), and then to England, Scotland, and so on. Guy Webster’s rich sound design and composition adds to an impressive sense of place.
particular credit goes to the impressively physical, dynamic work by Jeremiah Wray as the Creature, who looms and lurches across the stage...
Gradually, the story unfolds, but just as the Captain is being told the tale by Frankenstein, the audience is having it relayed by the small ensemble, who all take on numerous roles but all-too-often act as a kind of Greek chorus – except, that theatrical conceit is usually employed to comment on the dramatic action unfolding. Here, they’re just telling us what happens. It’s a bit of a slog.
And it needn’t be! As a story, Frankenstein is deeply embedded in our culture, and you need not have read the original novel to have a handle on the narrative, at least in the broad strokes: brilliant, driven young scientist makes man out of assorted body parts, sees man as monster, rejects him, murder and madness ensue. The book, though slim, is dense and discursive, and that’s a boon to adapters – you can pretty much assemble your own beast out of the parts. Director James Whale did this in his iconic 1931 film starring Boris Karloff, and again in 1935’s sequel, Bride of Frankenstein (still the best derivative work). The trick is selecting what parts to use, and deciding what they mean.
Here, playwright Nelle Lee’s choices are not easily discernible, and this Frankenstein feels like a synopsis rather than a true adaptation, a smaller summary of the original whole – perhaps we might call it a homunculus. The plot is intact, but the deeper meaning is lost. Interesting thematic elements are lightly touched on, but never deeply explored.
Parallels could be drawn between the Creature’s desire for a mate to join him in his miserable existence and Frankenstein’s seeming sense of entitlement to his love/adopted sister, Elizabeth (Chloé Zuel, who you may recognise as Eliza from Australia’s debut of Hamilton), who admits that she too might be miserable in a marriage to him, but the notion is dropped. Tony Cogin plays both Frankenstein’s father and the blind old man in the woods who treats the Creature with kindness, only for his own children to drive the wretched revenant away, horrified by his appearance. Is this a comment on the fragility of familial bonds, the debt owed to children by parents, and vice versa? It’s hard to say – and the play doesn’t offer us any answers. Meanwhile, the obvious themes of the dangers and temptations of science and progress are barely paid lip service.
For all that, there are things to enjoy here – chiefly the performances, and in particular credit goes to the impressively physical, dynamic work by Jeremiah Wray as the Creature, who looms and lurches across the stage, and occasionally tosses another character around like they were crafted from papier-mâché. Steven Boyle’s make-up artistry for the Creature is also impressive (and again nods to Branagh’s version). But he seems to be the only performer not frequently hampered by Nick Skubij’s static, lifeless direction. All too often, the performers are simply standing around reciting their lines, and you can feel them trying to imbue the dialogue with some semblance of life.
Look, the puns come easily, and again that speaks to Frankenstein’s grip on our collective unconscious. It’s a classic for a reason, and the sheer spectacle of this production will satisfy a lot of people – but hardcore fans may wish this version was relegated to the spare parts bin.
Frankenstein is playing at the Theatre Royal Sydney until October 13. Tickets range from $49.90-$169.90 and you can find them over here.
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