I feel much of McElvaine's
writing in “Fear Itself” lends itself to the film Frankenstein.
Having been released in 1931, Frankenstein in many ways foreshadows
the American mindsets McElvaine lays out. As an early depression
film, I believe Frankenstein touches on unemployment. We have a main
character who, so immersed and believing in his work, refuses to
accept that he should be doing anything but. Even given the direct
dissent of his mentor, Frankenstein refuses to let go. On page 173 of
“Fear Itself,” McElvaine writes,
Modern industrial society does
not provide a place or position for a person;
rather, it requires him to make
his own place – and to strive to better it.
This is taken to be the measure
of one's individual worth. Americans had been
brought up on the belief that
meaningful work is the basis of life. Without such
work, people felt they had no
reason for being. “Drives a man crazy,” said a
seventy-five-year-old former
knifemaker, “or drives him to drink, hangin'
around.”
This
short paragraph describes much of the first half of the film.
Frankenstein feels compelled to prove his peers wrong and make his
own name in the world. In some ways, McElvaine's third sentence
applies to Frankenstein almost literally. Meaningful work for
Frankenstein is to create
life. After the monster kills Fritz, Frankenstein is compelled to
leave the watchtower and let Dr. Waldman end the monster. Yet again,
we see an almost literal application in the knifemaker's words;
Frankenstein lounges about his father's estate, drinking and
lamenting on having nothing to do.
In
my opinion, Frankenstein's monster represents unemployment in the
Depression era. It ran rampant through the country side leading only
to ill. It was created by both man – a rich one at that – and
nature. In this sense that the monster touches on both the ideas of
nature and nurture, so did The Great Depression. Issues with interest
rates and other problems stemming from bankers mixed with the natural
threat of drought and overcropped fields leading to both a natural
and nurtured collapse.
Perhaps
more compellingly than unemployment, McElvaine's discussion of
familial gender roles is reflected in the film. Elizabeth, from the
very start, takes on the traditional role of women in the family. She
expresses throughout the film that she both believes in and trusts
Frankenstein and his work, but she wonders what it is doing to him.
When he is lounging at his father's estate, she is by his side
comforting him. The only thing she is interested in is making her
role a permanent one as Frankenstein's wife.
Frankenstein
is overtly protective and possessive of Elizabeth. Multiple times he
locks her inside a room or building under the guise of her own
safety. And, as far as he sees it, she is safe because of it; safe in
his possession, that is. As McElvaine writes at the bottom of page
181, “People did their best to maintain traditional roles... The
principal effect of the Depression on internal family relationships,
in fact, was to exaggerate the qualities and tendencies already
present. The additional strain was often too much for weak families
to withstand...” Frankenstein, like many men of the Depression,
grasped at the position he held in the family. He wishes to maintain
the position that, technically, he doesn't even hold.
Finally,
a point McElvaine makes is that of the Depression's effect on
children. He details how many families wished to do better by their
children. Frankenstein yet again touches on this fear for children.
Plainly, the scenes where the monster drowns the little girl, and
later when her father carries her through town reflect society’s
fears. Taking the personification of unemployment I laid out in the
monster, the little girl is killed, albeit naively, by unemployment
itself. In this case, it is perhaps better to say that the monster
killed her naively, but unemployment killed indirectly. Either way,
neither source sought to kill children, they just did so as a
consequence of their upbringings and actions. Further exacerbated in
the festival scene is society's obvious distaste for the suffering of
children. Everyone in the town, upon noticing the father's burden,
forgets the festivities and follows him. We are left with an entire
town, perhaps finally, awakened to the menace due to the death of an
innocent. In much the same way, The Great Depression awakened the seemingly age-old-cry, “Think of the children!”
I'm really glad you've dealt with McElvaine, Nolan. I think that chapter of his is not only an important piece of historical writing but also a poetic elegy to the beleaguered lives of the American '30s, and I selected it (among other reasons...some of which you touch upon here) because it has an interest in the voices of downtrodden people--the sound, you know, of their struggle. Ultimately, I decided to focus on Rachel Adams in class--there's only so much time. But you're right: McElvaine's record of cultural anxiety, of a "fear" difficult to represent as a single thing, is absolutely pertinent to the mute, uncertain, accidental catastrophe that is the monster in Whale's Frankenstein. That begging motion of the monster's hands: "Just help, and I'll move along." --MH
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