The Bride now belongs among the immortals in horror history, and deservedly so. In place of the starkness of its equally good original, we have a camped-up style which would be excessive and indulgent in another context, but works a treat here. Art direction and cinematography are glowing and spectacular (especially the trick photography with the miniature people at the beginning), and Waxman's score is justly famous, but it is in the performances that the greatest treasures lie.
Ernest Thesiger should be canonised, if only for his appearances here and in The Old Dark House. His eccentric portrayal barely conceals how much he's enjoying himself. Karloff builds on the sensitivity he brought across in the first film, and Lanchester's brief appearances are vivid and memorable. A shame we have to tolerate the woodenness of Clive and Hobson, and suffer Hurlbut's rather worthy script - but these are factors of their time, and easily forgiveable.
Where the film scores most highly is in its self-parody, its occasional radicalism, and its off-beat humour ("Praetorius? There's no such name!"). Early Monty Python, one might say, yet somehow superior and more timeless. This is the zenith of comic horror - and, if it's never actually frightening, who cares?
Ernest Thesiger should be canonised, if only for his appearances here and in The Old Dark House. His eccentric portrayal barely conceals how much he's enjoying himself. Karloff builds on the sensitivity he brought across in the first film, and Lanchester's brief appearances are vivid and memorable. A shame we have to tolerate the woodenness of Clive and Hobson, and suffer Hurlbut's rather worthy script - but these are factors of their time, and easily forgiveable.
Where the film scores most highly is in its self-parody, its occasional radicalism, and its off-beat humour ("Praetorius? There's no such name!"). Early Monty Python, one might say, yet somehow superior and more timeless. This is the zenith of comic horror - and, if it's never actually frightening, who cares?