Sometimes you just have to root for the monster. And the week before Halloween seems like a great time to cue up the cheering squad for five of the most traditional monsters of the season.
Let’s kick things off with good old Dr. Frankenstein’s creation.
When I first read Mary Shelley’s work in middle school, I already knew the basic story. I mean, what kid can make it through eleven Halloweens and not know about Frankenstein’s monster? Of course, at that point I thought the monster was named Frankenstein, so I was a little confused when I found that it was actually the doctor’s name. But I knew the monster would be scary. And he was. He killed people, framed others for murder, and was, all in all, a total terror. That being said, Doc Frankenstein was always far more repugnant to me.
He creates this being and then immediately rejects him because he’s scary looking. The good doctor was smart enough to reanimate bodies, but couldn’t figure out that the eight foot pile of parts he was sewing together wasn’t going to be handsome?
After this total fail of deductive reasoning, he scampers off, leaving the monster to figure things out for himself, which, shock of shocks, doesn’t end well. As the mayhem ensures, Doc Frankenstein laments his actions, saying how it’s all his fault. Woe is he, and all that. Which is all well and good. He did set this ball a-rollin’. But when it comes to taking care of the issue, does he take action? No, he whines and falls ill, gets nursed back to health, makes a few more poor decisions, and then starts the cycle all over again. And all this leaves me wanting one thing, for the poor beast to get his lady friend and be allowed to disappear into the wilderness.
So, in the grand battle between Team Frankenstein and Team Monster, I’m coming down on the side of Team Monster, despite our champion’s sometimes murderous tendencies.
What about you?
Favorite Film Adaptation:
Favorite Television Adaptation:
Today's breakfast recommendation: Frankenberry
Check back in tomorrow. We're going to tackle vampires. (And by tackle, I mean stand at a safe distance reeking of garlic and armed with Super Soakers of holy water, of course.)