Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein

I was cleaning out my grandparents’ home because a friend and his husband were moving out—and going on a long car trip to boot (though not, strictly speaking, in the boot of the car, as the Brits would say).

Both of my grandparents have been dead for over five years—most of my relatives are dead now—so I was surprised to see them. Casually, I walked up to Grandma’s old piano to tickle the ivories and was pleasantly surprised to find that, upon opening it, it was stuffed with obscure old Goodwill cast-off books. Heaps of them. I can’t, for the life of me, remember a single goddamn title. (I suspect one may have been Exodus by Leon Uris, because no matter what lounge, waiting room, or thrift store book bin you dig through, there’s always a copy of Exodus lurking—like the wrath of an inscrutable and vengeful omnipotent God, just biding its time.)

Anyway. I picked up one that looked like a crumbling old Bible. On the cover was printed: Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein. Which I’d never taken for sacred scripture before. I saw it as a kid and loved it. I saw it as a man and, well, uh…

Lou Costello was said to be, according to someone quoted in Rudolph Grey’s Nightmare of Ecstasy: The Life and Art of Edward D. Wood Jr. (might’ve been Alex Gordon, might’ve been someone else—it’s been years since I read it), a thoroughgoing SOB and a sadistic little shit to boot. That’s someone’s subjective opinion, sure, but there’s something undeniably phony about the late, great Loulou. Something cold and calculating behind those googly eyes. By contrast, Bud Abbott always looked like my ex–father-in-law—and that’s enough to bring on suspicion, anxiety, and a general sense of uncleanliness right there.

So, in the movie, they’re working customs or UPS or FedEx or some such enterprise when a crate of coffins shows up—one containing Dracula (Bela, naturally, reprising his most famous role for the only time in his long, tragic career), the other housing Frankenstein’s Monster. The coffins are destined for a wax museum run by one McDougal (Frank Ferguson), a jackdaw sumbitch with a boner for Drac and Frankie, alive or dead. Chick (Abbott) and Wilbur (Costello) unpack the coffins, and wouldn’t you know it—Count Bela Lugosi Dracula (reverse the scare quotes; Lugosi is Dracula and always will be, until this planet finally corkscrews into the void) and Frankenstein’s Monster (Glenn Strange) come roaring back to life.

Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein (1948) - Opening Credits [720p]

Enter Lon “Larry” Chaney Jr. as the ever-earnest Larry Talbot, a man whose idea of a vacation is showing up as fur and fangs during the full moon. He mostly runs around in the background of this picture for reasons I still can’t fully figure out. He’s there, he’s wolfy, and he’s trying to stop Dracula. You know. The usual.

Then, suddenly, we’re at a castle. I think in Transylvania, but how the hell we got there is anyone’s guess. We were just in Florida. Geography be damned—we’re on Universal time now.

Dr. Sandra Mornay (Lenore Aubert) is doing experiments on Frankie, for reasons that aren’t exactly clear, with the help of Charles Bradstreet (as the utterly useless Dr. Stevens), whose main contribution to the plot is setting a pier on fire. Frankenstein’s Monster, in an inspired bit of character regression, walks into the flames, despite spending several films previously reacting to fire like it was his personal Vietnam. Bradstreet’s hair, meanwhile, looks like a B-grade pompadour baked onto a mannequin head and left out in the sun.

Jane Randolph ("Joan Raymond") shows up as an insurance investigator, though what she’s investigating, who she’s insuring, or why she’s even in this movie, God only knows. Talbot runs around in a Halloween-store wolf mask with paws that look like shag carpet swatches sewn onto rubber gloves. It’s meant to be scary, I guess. ’Tis to laugh. Or, really, not so much at age forty-eight.

The plot’s fine print barely matters, anyway. Both women inexplicably want a piece of Lou Costello’s ass—which is baffling, seeing as how Bud Abbott probably had a bigger dick. But then again, Abbott gives off big-time cough syrup and dirty socks energy—and again, he looks like my ex–father-in-law, which is a deal breaker right there.

The sets are kitsch and underlit. The cinematography is flat. The costumes look rented and returned with stains. Dracula turns into a cartoon bat via animation so primitive it might as well have been drawn on a napkin. Bela looks and sounds like he’s one soft, wet whisper away from a morphine-and-Demerol nosedive. Lon Chaney Jr., to his credit, puts on his best Serious Actor Face—the same one that got him accolades as Lennie in Of Mice and Men (which, full disclosure, I’ve never seen, but I read the book back in high school, so that counts, right? “We gonna see the rabbits, George?”)

Not nearly as amusing, as I noted, forty-plus years on. Worth a chuckle, maybe two. I really can’t stand Lou Costello. And Bud Abbott? Don’t get me started. I’ll take Keaton, Chaplin, Larry, Moe, Curly, or Laurel and fucking Hardy any day. And the Marx Bros., man. The fucking Marx Brothers. Ya dig me?

Okay, yeah—those motherfuckers never went up against Dracula. So what? You got something to say about it?

One final note. Vincent Price pops up in the last scene, cackling like a cartoon ghost while puffing on a self-smoking cigarette. It’s the best moment in the whole film—and probably the only real smile, visible or otherwise, this picture manages to squeeze out of me these days.

Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein Official Trailer #1 - (1948) HD

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