The Aesthetic Theory of Virtue (ATV) asserts that virtue is connected with beauty of the soul, while vice is connected with the ugliness of the soul. A virtuous character excites and heightens our sense of beauty. A deprived or evil soul is expressed in unsightly and horrific terms. While this beauty and ugliness is not physical, we can see the connection made by ATV between beauty and goodness as well as between ugliness and evil. McGinn points out that in our stories a virtuous person, a person of good character, reflects attractive qualities and an exemplary character. In contrast, an unattractive person, like Frankenstein’s monster, is usually depicted in negative terms, lacking moral goodness (pp. 92–122).
But we should not forget that discussions of beauty are related to questions of personal, subjective taste. Our judgment of beauty is then projected into determinations of right and wrong. This is very worrisome! But, before we elaborate this concern, I need to make a distinction between aesthetic value and aesthetic judgment. Aesthetic value relates to our ability to discriminate values of beauty at a sensory level. These appraisals or “valuations” are dependent on sensations that give rise to feelings of pleasure or disgust. Aesthetic judgments, though, usually go beyond purely sensory discrimination. These judgments involve factors that may be culturally conditioned (desirability) or psychologically conditioned (subconscious behavior). We know that many of our aesthetic judgments include social judgments. Food, for example, that appears enticing and attractive to people of one culture is often described as “disgusting” by people of another culture. (Consider our reactions to the idea of eating bugs.) Our disgusts often have no rational foundation!
Our Monstrous Fascination with Monsters
Our story begins during a storm at the North Pole, when Captain Walton (Aidan Quinn) on an Arctic expedition, encounters a fatigued and emotional Dr. Victor Frankenstein (Kenneth Branagh). Dr. Frankenstein recounts a tragic and horrifying account which serves as a cautionary tale against unbridled scientific enthusiasm while at the same time toying with conventions of beauty. Dr. Frankenstein has been pursuing a monstrous creature of his own making. The monster has killed everyone he loved and destroyed everything he worked for. This is significant since the monster is presented as the embodiment of evil. Yet McGinn reminds us that:
The monster has always been with us. Misshapen, deformed, hideous, terrifying—the monster prowls and lurks, bent on doing us unprecedented damage. He is strong, agile, determined . . . He belongs where we fear to tread . . . He needs us . . . We dread him . . . He is always with us . . . (p. 144)
Even though monsters are considered evil and moral imperfection personified, they are also a projection of our weakness and innermost fears. We’re not merely the victims of their rampage and destruction, the monster is a representation of our capacity for virtuous deeds and exceptional evil. Human beings can be exceptionally responsible moral agents and exceptionally detestable moral degenerates. In other words, we can be lovely heroic exemplars of virtue or ugly monstrous exemplars of vice at any given moment.
According to McGinn, science shows us that under the skin we are all like the creature: “Just as the creature is composed of other people’s bodies, so we are probably partly composed of matter that was once part of each other’s bodies” (p. 151). McGinn’s true fact of biology may appear repulsive to many. We’re also uncomfortable in our skin. We suffer from body issues, we see ourselves as physically imperfect, and may even see ourselves as deformed “freaks.” Finally, we have problems adapting to our familial roles. As children we struggle with the fear of abandonment, and in many cases, (like the creature) we must find our way alone in this cruel and harsh world. This tarrying realization leads us to the conclusion that our closest relations, those that gave us life, can also be the perpetrators of monstrously evil acts.
If we fear monsters, this leads to an obvious question: Why are we so fascinated by them? Mary Shelley’s novel Frankenstein establishes that the Creature strikes a deep interest and concern in us because it represents the alien or the other. This distinction between us and it can be understood in terms of our fear of the stranger or outsider. The fear of uncertainty, including death, at the hands of the foreigner is quite common for humans. The fear of the other becomes perverse when the creature represents unfortunate marginalized people due to their physical divergence from a culturally accepted norm. The Frankenstein’s monster, stitched together from the body parts of criminals, outcasts, and victims of a cholera pandemic is the ultimate projection of the fear of the monstrous other. If the creature is us, be it the result of our moral depravity or diseased deformity, we see ourselves in him because in him we see our own nature (p. 149).
The Good and Virtuous Frankenstein Family
A series of flashbacks take us to Victor’s formative years in Branagh’s movie version of Frankenstein. We’re treated to a serene initial scene of a doting mother and a loving son. This mother-son relationship is cut short by her death while giving birth. Three years later at her gravesite, Victor pledges himself to defeat death. This series of flashbacks offer interesting insights into dynamic of the Frankenstein family. One can only conclude that this attractive and virtuous family harbors deep, ugly, and depraved secrets. This conclusion seems to have been intentional by the filmmaker.
Branagh’s version of the Frankenstein story is probably closer to the source than other adaptations. But, what distinguishes this movie version from others is the fact that Branagh set out to examine the complexity of human relationships. As Branagh put it, this is more than a monster story; this is a movie that touches upon sensitive topics of human interaction.3 At the heart of this film we find the tortured interactions between father and son, mother and son, husband and wife, father and child. By creating an intricate web of relationships, the film precariously skirts taboos of incest, the Oedipus Complex, paternal neglect, and emotional abuse. These underlying themes challenge the convention that the handsome and attractive Frankenstein family is an example of virtue or moral goodness.
We cannot deny that Caroline Frankenstein was a loving mother, but something about her does not feel right. We’re treated to a scene where a young adult Victor is hard at work studying. His mother however attempts to seduce him from his work. We cannot help but feel discomfort over this playful exchange between mother and son. The scene gives a strange feeling that begs for a closer examination of this relationship. Victor’s hysteria at the moment of his mother’s death, and his pledge to defeat death, led me to the conclusion that unresolved issues between Caroline and Victor exist.
Even though an incestuous relationship between Victor and his mother is implied, the incestuous relationship between Victor and his “sister” Elizabeth is explicitly embraced by the movie. Elizabeth was orphaned and adopted by the Frankenstein family when Victor was young. Over time Elizabeth and Victor fell in love and pledged to marry each other. Victor in fact refers to her as his “lover/sister/wife.” At their wedding night, as they are about to consummate the marriage, Victor declares: “brother, sister no more; husband and wife.”
These early scenes of young Victor center on the relationship to his mother and the absence of his father. It appears that young Victor’s interest in making a name for himself stems from a need to distinguish himself from his father and gain his admiration. The apparent tension between father and son is made worse by the death of Victor’s mother. We’re treated to the horrific sight of her lifeless, blood stained corpse entangled in the obstetrics table stirrups. It seems as if the incestuous mother-son relationship is castigated by the father in an attempt to circumvent the completion of Victor’s oedipal designs to replace him and take control of the family legacy. Branagh’s Frankenstein seems to hint at an untoward relationship between the Baron and his servant Ms. Moritz. There are a couple of exchanged glances between the two that seem to intimate familiarity.
Finally, there seems to be a mother-daughter conflict between Ms. Moritz and her daughter Justine. In the novel, Mary Shelley
insinuates an untoward relationship between Justine and the Baron after the death of Ms. Moritz. Shelley seems to create an inverted version of Victor in the person of Justine. While the Baron ignores and is neglectful of his son, he showers her with attention and affection.
The pattern of paternal neglect continued with Victor’s paternal neglect of the Creature, and the emotional abuse Victor burdens it/him with. Immediately after Frankenstein creates the Creature he concludes that the creature is flawed: “evil stitched to evil, stitched to evil.” After the revulsion of realizing what he had created, Victor wrestles with the creature and restrains it. We’re not sure whether the creature was the aggressor, but Frankenstein is convinced of the creature’s evil and assumes it has been killed.
The creature awakens, frees itself, and flees. Frankenstein is nursed back to health by his classmate Henry Clerval (Tom Hulce) and discovers that the cholera epidemic has killed a significant number of people, possibly even the Creature. Frankenstein seems to relish the thought that his creation has died of exposure to the elements. Frankenstein seems to take pleasure in the abandonment and neglect of his creation.
We’re surprised to learn that the first two words spoken by the creature are friend and father. This is significant since the Creature is seeking a surrogate affectionate relationship outside of Victor. When the Creature has the opportunity to confront his neglectful father, he asks: “You gave me these emotions and didn’t teach me to use them.” Throughout the narrative, as the Creature exacts his revenge on Frankenstein, we see continual attempts at reconciliation. This infantile attempt to reconcile with the negligent father, not unlike Victor’s attempts with the Baron, culminates in two heart-wrenching scenes at the end of the movie.
Dr. Frankenstein expires in Captain Walton’s cabin after recounting his trials and tribulations. After a fruitless attempt at capturing the Creature, the captain and crew are surprised to find him weeping over the dead body of his father. “Why do you weep?” asked the captain. The creature responded in an expression of outward anguish: “He was my father.” The movie concludes with the creature choosing to accompany the funeral pyre of his dead father, as it melts into the cold waters of the North Pole.
Monstrous Pursuits
Victor Frankenstein goes on to pursue medical studies at Ingolstadt, where he is mentored by the disgraced Professor Waldman (John Cleese). Frankenstein continues Waldman’s work and creates a being out of the body parts of deceased corpses. Frankenstein believes that “we can design a life that is better than us.” The creature’s birthing scene mirrors the scene of his mother’s death and younger brother’s birth quite neatly.
Branagh’s laboratory goes beyond Mary Shelley’s description of a “workshop of filthy creation.” In the words of Branagh, the attempt was to “make as many explicitly sexual birth images as possible.” Although, Shelley leaves it to the reader’s imagination, Branagh presents a laboratory where a “huge phallic tube shoots eels at an enormous womblike sarcophagus.” Disillusioned and embittered at the treatment suffered at the hands of society, the Creature follows his creator with the intention of seeking revenge.
The Creature confronts Frankenstein by asking: “What kind of people is it in which I am comprised? Good people? Bad people?” Frankenstein replies carelessly that they are materials and nothing more. At this point the Creature seems to have a simple twofold agenda: to question Frankenstein regarding his motives and to ask for a companion. The Creature insightfully asked: “Do I have a soul?” This is more than a philosophical question. The creature wants to get to the heart of what it means to be human. The question also has profound ethical significance since it intends to establish moral status of the creature.
CREATURE: Did you ever consider the consequences of your actions? You gave me life but then you left me to die. Who am I?
FRANKENSTEIN: I don’t know.
CREATURE: And you think I am evil?
FRANKENSTEIN: What can I do?
This line of questioning seems to confirm that based on his ugly physical appearance and the lack of a soul, the Creature is morally deficient. In fact it is the opposite. The Creature is innocent and the victim of the conventional moral understanding. The Creature is in essence turning convention upside down by establishing that morality is not based on superficial categories of aesthetics. It is at this point that Frankenstein’s actions, place in doubt the aesthetic theory of virtue attributing moral beauty to the good doctor. We are drawn to the conclusion that the created being is more human than the en-souled creator. In addition the Creature is clearly asserting his humanity, dignity and moral worth.
The Creature continues to assert his humanity by requesting a companion. He informs the doctor that a creature like himself will not hate him. “For the sympathy of one living being, I will make peace with all.” The Creature further humanizes himself most eloquently by reflecting on his ability to love and hate. “I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine, the rage the likes of which you will not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other.” The morality of the Creature is innate and implicit and not dependent on his ugliness. The immorality of the Creature is in effect the product of outside forces that shape his moral worldview. Finally, the Creature’s request for a mate is an attempt to create an alternate moral community not based on the superficialities of beauty.
Will the Real Monster Please Stand Up?
Feeling the sting of his father’s rejection, and the pain of his father’s unwarranted abuse, the Creature seeks refuge in the city only to be victimized by the villagers. Not deterred, the Creature sets out to find human kindness and community with an almost childlike innocence. The Creature comes across a poor peasant family that is struggling to secure provisions for the winter. The Creature emotionally bonds with the family and through an act of compassion harvests the produce that has been impacted in the hardened soil. The family, puzzled by their benefactor and good fortune, attribute the act to a “Good Spirit of the Woods.” Here the filmmakers are challenging the aesthetic theory of virtue by attributing moral goodness to the ugly creature as well as a “Spirit.”
In an interesting twist of fate, the Creature comes to the defense of the family daughter and blind old grandfather at the hands of an abusive landlord. Grateful, the old man brings him into the cottage, acknowledges his humanity and courteously asks him why he is hidden in the shadows, and why does he not have friends? The Creature answers that he hides from the fear of people and makes an interesting contrast between himself (who is ugly) and his father (who is beautiful). The conclusion, in the mind of the Creature seems to be that Frankenstein has abandoned him because he is ugly.
When the head of the Creature’s surrogate family discovers him in the hut, he beats him, chases him outside and the family moves away. Heartbroken, the Creature returns to the empty hut and burns it to the ground. This is the final betrayal. The Creature, who only sought to be loved, has found nothing but pain and rejection. From this point on he has lost hope in the goodness of human beings. His final determination is to have Frankenstein create for him a companion and to seek out an existence in seclusion from human beings.
Kenneth Branagh’s retelling of the Frankenstein story makes it clear, that monsters are made and not born. The Creature’s first encounter with a human being results in his rejection by his father. His first encounter with society is met with hostility and violence. Even though he is gentle and kind, he is unjustly treated. Even though he is morally responsible and seeks to help and protect those in need, he is rejected and abused. Even though his first word is friend, he is treated as the other, a stranger to be feared. The Creature, a moral virtuoso, is led to bitterness, anger, rage, revenge and murder. The Creature turns the aesthetic theory of virtue upside down: the attractive Doctor Frankenstein is the moral degenerate, while the ugly Creature with-no-given-name is the moral virtuoso.
The Creature Within
The horrifying conclusion we are forced
to is that the Creature fascinates us because we see so much of ourselves in him in disguised form (p. 168). The Creature has forced this truth into our consciousness through brutally physical means. Truth be told, we’re all closer to Frankenstein’s Creature than we are to Frankenstein’s idealized family. On another level we are one step removed from the good doctor. As human beings we are capable of great moral depravity regardless of our physical attractiveness or physical unattractiveness. We fear the monster because the monster is us. We don’t fear the doctor because he is what we idealize. In the final analysis we are the creator and the creature.
The greatest strength of the movie lies in its portrayal of good and evil. Branagh’s Frankenstein is attractive yet shallow, maybe even morally deficient, while De Niro’s creature is innocent and kind in spite of his repulsive outward appearance. It’s here that we uncover the monster that lies within each and every one of us. In both forms the monster confronts us. It is also at this point that our conventional portrayals of good and evil fall short. Ultimately it’s easier to accept that evil is unattractive and out there, than to accept that evil may be attractive and lurking inside of us.
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1Republic, III, line 402d.
2Colin McGinn, Ethics, Evil and Fiction (Oxford University Press, 2007), pp. 61–64.
3Interview Magazine
The Mad Creators
ELENA CASETTA is a Research Fellow at the Center for Philosophy of Science of the University of Lisbon and a member of LabOnt (University of Turin). Although scientists agree that nothing like Frankenstein’s creature can actually exist, she believes that there’s room for hope.
Frankenstein and Philosophy Page 30