In my book Variety Photoplays has a lot
of poems about the movies.
And I deal with the movies as I remember them, not the way
they were necessarily, but as they affected me.
I'll read you my "Frankenstein" poem,
which is a part of a trilogy Frankenstein
the bride of Frankenstein and the return of Frankenstein.
[LAUGHTER]
"Frankenstein."
"The monster has escaped from the dungeon where
he was kept by the Baron, who made it with knobs sticking out
from each side of his neck where the head was attached
to the body and stitching all over where parts of cadavers
were sewed together.
He is pursued by the ignorant villagers, who
think he is evil and dangerous because he is ugly
and makes ugly noises.
They wave firebrands at him and cudgels and rakes,
but he escapes and comes to the thatched cottage of an old
blind man playing on the violin Mendelssohn's 'Spring Song.'
Hearing him approach, the blind man welcomes him.
'Come in my friend,' and takes him by the arm.
'You must be weary,' and sits him down inside the house.
For the Blind man has long dreamed
of having a friend to share his lonely life.
The monster has never known kindness, the Baron was cruel,
but somehow he is able to accept it now.
And he really has no instincts to harm the old man,
for in spite of his awful looks he has a tender heart.
Who knows what cadaver that part of him came from?
[LAUGHTER]
The old man seats him a table, offers him bread, and says,
'Eat, my friend.'
The monster rears back roaring and terror.
'No, my friend, it is good.
Eat-- good.'
And the old man shows him how to eat and reassured the monster
eats and says, 'eat--
good,' trying out the words and finding them good too.
The old man offers him a glass of wine, 'drink, my friend.
Drink-- good.'
The monster drinks slurping horribly and says, 'drink--
good,' in his deep nutty voice and smiles maybe for the first
time in his life.
Then the blind man puts a cigar in the monster's mouth
and lights a large wooden match that flares up in his face.
The monster, remembering the torches of the villagers,
recoils, grunting in terror.
'No, my friend, smoke--
good,' and the old man demonstrates with his own
cigar.
The monster takes a tentative puff and smiles hugely saying,
'smoke--
good,' and sits back like a banker, grunting and puffing.
Now the old man plays Mendelssohn's 'Spring Song'
on the violin while tears come into our dear monster's eyes
as he thinks of the stones of the mob, the pleasures
of mealtime, the magic new words he has learned,
and above all of the friend he has found.
It is just as well that he is unaware--
being simple enough to believe only in the present--
that the mob will find him and pursue him
for the rest of his short unnatural life,
until trapped at the whirlpool's edge he plunges to his death."
I didn't see the monster is not at all the villain.
In the monster movie there's a great ambivalence
about who is the villain.
And of course really it's the mad scientist
who is the villain which was an accurate
forecast of things to come.
[LAUGHTER]