Considering that the Universal monster series was petering out and that "Son of Frankenstein" is the third installment (but not the last) in which the monster appears, this isn't too bad.
At least it has a zippy pace and Basil Rathbone's performance is pretty good. The special effects are, well, pronounced. Electrical junk abounds and Van De Graaff generators, with their high voltage and low current, send crackling bolts of lightning all over the place.
The purpose of all this display is to bring back to life the monster created by Basil Rathbone's father. The monster is played for the last time by Boris Karloff.
Rathbone is Wolf Frankenstein, a research physician, who moves with his family into the castle on the edge of Village Frankenstein. The villagers are not happy campers. They recall only too well Rathbone's father and the creature he unleashed on them.
Rathbone has no intention of continuing his father's work but when Ygor, the broken-necked servant, shows him around his father's laboratory, Rathebone finds that the creature is still alive, although apparently disabled, and sets about trying to restore him (or "it") to health.
Ha ha, thinks Ygor. The fact is that when Rathbone is sleeping or otherwise occupied, the humped-over gnome has been sending the monster out on missions of revenge for previous insults.
This may be one of the later entries in the series -- other, much worse, were to follow -- but it's not that bad. It may be the only time that Basil Rathbone has been discomfited on screen, when the Inspector (Lionel Atwill), the one with the stiff posture and wooden arm, tells Rathbone that his father's creature ripped out the arm by its roots. "Well -- I --", says Rathbone, in a manner both apologetic and gentlemanly. This isn't Rathbone's default state. I saw him on Broadway in a production of Archibald MacLeach's "J.B." He was one of Job's "comforters" and he STILL was authoritative, commanding, and a little mean. Small comfort.
The sets are well constructed. The Rathbone breakfast nook is the size of the Astrodome and has no furniture except a tiny table in the middle of a great empty space. It takes the butler forty-five seconds to enter through the door and scurry over to pour the morning coffee. I counted.
The fact is that if this picture had appeared sui generis -- if it hadn't been preceded and then followed by related members of the Universal monster genre, it probably would have become a classic of its kind.
At least it has a zippy pace and Basil Rathbone's performance is pretty good. The special effects are, well, pronounced. Electrical junk abounds and Van De Graaff generators, with their high voltage and low current, send crackling bolts of lightning all over the place.
The purpose of all this display is to bring back to life the monster created by Basil Rathbone's father. The monster is played for the last time by Boris Karloff.
Rathbone is Wolf Frankenstein, a research physician, who moves with his family into the castle on the edge of Village Frankenstein. The villagers are not happy campers. They recall only too well Rathbone's father and the creature he unleashed on them.
Rathbone has no intention of continuing his father's work but when Ygor, the broken-necked servant, shows him around his father's laboratory, Rathebone finds that the creature is still alive, although apparently disabled, and sets about trying to restore him (or "it") to health.
Ha ha, thinks Ygor. The fact is that when Rathbone is sleeping or otherwise occupied, the humped-over gnome has been sending the monster out on missions of revenge for previous insults.
This may be one of the later entries in the series -- other, much worse, were to follow -- but it's not that bad. It may be the only time that Basil Rathbone has been discomfited on screen, when the Inspector (Lionel Atwill), the one with the stiff posture and wooden arm, tells Rathbone that his father's creature ripped out the arm by its roots. "Well -- I --", says Rathbone, in a manner both apologetic and gentlemanly. This isn't Rathbone's default state. I saw him on Broadway in a production of Archibald MacLeach's "J.B." He was one of Job's "comforters" and he STILL was authoritative, commanding, and a little mean. Small comfort.
The sets are well constructed. The Rathbone breakfast nook is the size of the Astrodome and has no furniture except a tiny table in the middle of a great empty space. It takes the butler forty-five seconds to enter through the door and scurry over to pour the morning coffee. I counted.
The fact is that if this picture had appeared sui generis -- if it hadn't been preceded and then followed by related members of the Universal monster genre, it probably would have become a classic of its kind.