Mary Shelley’s novella Frankenstein has been a near-endless wellspring of inspiration for artists and thinkers for just over 200 years. National Theatre’s smash hit production, directed by Danny Boyle, was recorded in 2011 then screened in cinemas, and is now available to watch at home online via YouTube. It’s a fundraiser, designed to support artists who have been screwed over by the effects of Covid-19, but it’s also just a drop in the great swell of arts and creativity that has washed into our homes while we sit in isolation, reminding us of the essential nature of the arts. 

Nick Dear’s high fidelity adaptation finds its heart not in Frankenstein’s blasphemous, Promethean attempt to usurp the role of God, but in the relationship between the creator and his creation. This dynamic is emphasised in the production’s key conceit: that A-list actors Jonny Lee Miller and Benedict Cumberbatch alternate the roles of Frankenstein and the Creature in repertory. Both versions are available online.

I first watch Cumberbatch as the Creature, then scan through the show with Miller’s performance. It’s fascinating see each rendition draw different aspects out of the characters and their dynamics, to the extent that I’d certainly advocate watching both. This teases out the show’s full potential, while asking some rich questions about the relationships between actors and their characters, let alone the play’s broader themes. 

Unlike the source text, which starts (after a frame narrative) with Frankenstein’s first-person, monomaniacal narration, here we begin with creature, who is born, alone, from the grotesque membrane in a deserted lab. The immense, stunning galaxy of lamps and Edison bulbs suspended above the stage and audience flares, sending the terrified creature into spasms. It figures out how to breathe, move, and eventually hold himself upright, all without comfort or aid. It’s a powerfully intense scene, nearly ten minutes long, and excruciating in its flailing physicality.

Frankenstein finally arrives, is shocked by his creation’s vitality, shouts “You do as I say!” with futility, then runs off in fear. The template is set. The creature is cast out, left to fend for itself and to experience the world as new. Some characters, played with conviction and joy by the large cast, later debate whether we are born pure, or tainted by original sin. Here we see that the creature is a blank slate, ready to respond to, and learn from, whatever it encounters.  

Although it is exposed to some kindness by the people it meets, and is capable of learning ‘civility’ – how to speak, reason, and read the classics – it quickly learns its place in the world. Cruelty begets cruelty. We are asked, throughout the action, what obligations does a creator have towards their creation, given that no one asks to be born? To what extent is a creation a reflection of their creator, and vice versa?

This is a gorgeous and powerful production, beautifully designed throughout, from the set pieces, lighting and period costumes, to the Creature’s grotesque make up. It is easy to see why it has achieved such success and such cult status. The large circular stage, surrounded by highly raked seats, recalls the performative operating theatres of previous centuries; we are students watching an experiment.

The sparse, spacious set marks the isolation and exclusion of the creature. It has an impeccable sense of environment, shifting between urban spaces, homes, fields, laboratories, and – in my favourite transition – the mountains where the pair confront one another, and where the creature demands a mate.

I also love that the play embraces some of the droll humour of the original. The clean, white domestic spaces of the Frankenstein home are unsettlingly set at a canted angle. One of the great ironies is that Frankenstein, despite his obsession with creating life, is completely disinterested in, even repulsed by, his fiancée Elizabeth and her wish to have children the ‘proper’ way.

The production is bound together by a soundscape from electronic music group Underworld, which I admit I had listened to long before seeing the show. It snakes between joyous vocal work, the crunching industrial noise of Frankenstein’s organic experiments, and evocative, unsettling environmental portraiture. Its growing sense of foreboding comes to a climax in the production’s stunning final images, as we’re left to think about the relationship between creation and destruction.

Live recorded theatre is a funny thing, and I don’t deny that the National Theatre is really very good at translating their live shows to the screen. (Incidentally, there are also loads of other resources on YouTube and the theatre’s webpage, if you want to go on a full blown theatre nerd deep dive). Watching recorded theatre during lockdown has left me thinking about what film and theatre are good at, and the points at which they diverge or intersect.

One of the cameras offers a God’s eye view of the stage, and this is a net gain. It opens up some terrific imagery, especially as the creature is born, and later, when it stares up into the sky, feeling rain on its face. Moments of intensity, that focus on individual performances, especially in isolation, translate wonderfully to cinematic language. The camera’s capacity for intimacy reveals some things – the details of the creature’s sutures, the food he tries, or the grass he stuffs into his mouth – but moments of theatrical spectacle feel more distant, less immersive.

I am left wanting to have seen the original, which isn’t a bad thing, and I am thankful for such recordings and their reach, but I also crave a time when we can sit in a room together again. 

See Cumberbatch as Dr Frankenstein and Miller as the Creature here.
See Cumberbatch as the Creature and Miller as Dr Frankenstein here.

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