Gods.
Monsters.
Men.
Take your pick?
After all, depending on your point of view, they can all be interchangable anyway. And, when the one being depicted is based [more or less loosely] on the life of an actual flesh and blood human being, we have certain “facts” by which we can assess the judgments being made.
Of course for some any and all sexual “perverts” are by definition monsters. Especially “back then”. James Whale dies in 1957. Years before the advent of the “sexual revolution”. Or before Stonewall. Let alone before transgender bathrooms.
So some will judge him almost entirely through the shadows of their own particular prejudices. They won’t see the man or his life. They’ll see the fag.
On top of that, he was smack dab in the middle of the Hollywood crowd. There decadence more or less goes with the territory. Just, in turn, more or less in the closet.
And then the part about “movie monsters”. And the part where our reactions to them come to overlap our reactions to one or another facet of actual human interaction. They come to stand in for our own large and small assumptions about what it all means.
And then the part – gay or straight – about getting old. That constant drip…drip…drip as the human body begins to fall apart. Taking you with it.
And [always] the way in which the past and the present are intertwined along a particular trajectory; one that you may or may not be able to communicate to others.
IMDb
[b]Ian McKellen said that he felt very comfortable playing the role of James Whale. For, like Whale, McKellan is a homosexual British actor who spent his early career in the theater and ultimately started a career in Hollywood.
The title comes from a line appeared in Bride of Frankenstein. In it, Dr. Pretorius (Ernest Thesiger) say to Dr. Frankenstein (Colin Clive): “To a new world of gods and monsters.”
In real life, James Whale wrote a suicide note before jumping into his pool, reassuring his loved ones that he was not depressed, but only wanted to end his constant physical suffering. [/b]
at wiki: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gods_and_Monsters_(film
trailer: youtu.be/Nn2G6YrvibM
GODS AND MONSTERS [1998]
Directed by Bill Condon
[b]James: Who is this new yardman?
Hannah: Mr. Bugen… something B… I don’t know. He came cheap.
…
James [singing as he walks]: Bells of hell go ting-a-ling-a-ling, for you but not for me. O death, where is thy sting-a-ling-a-ling? Grave, where is thy victory?
…
James: Am I right in assuming, Mr. Kay, that it’s not me that you’re interested in, but only my horror pictures?
Edmund: No, but it’s the horror movies you’ll be remembered for.
James [indignantly]: I’m not dead yet, Mr. Kay.
…
James: Let’s make the interview more interesting for me. I will answer truthfully any question that you put to me, and in return, for each answer you will remove an article of clothing.
Edmund: I think…That’s funny, Mr. Whale.
James: Yes, it is, isn’t it? My life as a game of strip poker. Shall we play?
Edmund: So the rumors are true then.
James: Oh? What rumors would those be?
Edmund: That you were forced to retire because of, um, a sex scandal.
James: A homosexual scandal, you mean. For me to answer a question of that magnitude, you’ll have to remove both your shoes and socks.
[he takes off his shoes and socks]
James: It is kind of you to indulge your elders in their vices. Just as I indulge the young in theirs.
…
James: You must understand how Hollywood was years ago. If you were a star nobody cared a tinker’s cuss who you slept with, so long as you kept it out of the papers. As for us directors, well, outside Hollywood who even knows who George Cukor is, much less what he gets up to with those boys from the malt shops?
Edmund: George Cukor? Who made [i]A Star is Born]/i]?
James: Take off your shirt, and I’ll tell you all about it.
…
Edmund: Frankenstein is one of the great images of the the 20th century, more important than the Mona Lisa.
James: Oh, don’t be daft. It’s just makeup and padding and a big actor. It’s hardly the Mona Lisa.
…
Clayton: Well, um, w-what were some of your movies?
James: Oh, this and that. The only ones that you may have heard of are the Frankenstein movies.
Clayton: Frankenstein? And, um, uh, Bride of Frankenstein? And the Son of? And the other ones too?
James: Uh, no, I-I just directed the first two. The others were done by hacks.
…
James: [while sketching Boone]: Oh, that shirt, Mr. Boone.
Clayton: Hmm?
James: Yes, I-I am sorry. It’s just too white. It’s too distracting. Would it be asking you too much to take it off?
Clayton [nervously]: Well, I’m not wearing an undershirt today.
James: Oh, pish posh, I’m not your Aunt Tillie.
…
James: Oh, God, it’s ironic.
Claton: What is?
James: I’ve spent much of my life outrunning the past, and now it floods all over me.
…
James [to Clayton]: Our family had no doubt about who they were, but I was an aberration in that household, a freak of nature. I had imagination, cleverness, joy. Now, where did I get that? Certainly not from them. They took me out of school when I was 14 and put me in a factory. They meant no harm. They were like a family of farmers who’ve been given a giraffe and don’t know what to do with the creature except to harness him to the plow. Hatred was the only thing that kept my soul alive in that soul-killing place. And amongst the men I hated was my dear old dumb father, who put me in that hell in the first place.
…
Betty: I bet he’s some fruit just pretending to be famous so that he can get in the big guy’s pants.
Clayton: What makes you say that?
Betty: Just thinking out loud.
Clayton: Well, why don’t you just keep your dirty thoughts to yourself?
Betty: Alright then, he’s interested in you for your conversation. We all know what a great talker you are.
Clayton: Fuck you.
Betty: Not anymore you don’t.
…
Betty: Do you realize you’re more interested in this old goober than you ever were in me?
Clayton: That’s different…he’s a man. Besides, you got no business callin’ him a homo.
Betty: It never crossed your mind?
Claytton: He’s an artist. But he’s too old to be thinkin’ about sex.
Betty: All the old men I know think about nothing but sex.
…
Hannah: Poor Mr. Jimmy. There is much good in him, but he will suffer the fires of hell.
Clayton: Oh yeah…you sure of that?
Hannah: That is what the priests tell me. His sins of the flesh will keep him from heaven.
Clayton: Hell, everybody’s got those.
Hannah: No. His is the worst. The “unspeakable”. The deed no man can name without shame. What is the good English? All I know is bugger, he’s a bugger, men who bugger each other…
Clayton: A homo?
Hannah: Yes! You know. That is why he must go to hell. I do not think it’s fair, but God’s laws is not for us to judge.
Clayton: So, what you’re telling me is, Mr. Whale is a homo.
Hannah: You did not know?!
…
Clayton: I, uh, I watched your movie the other night with some friends.
James: Did you, now? Did anyone laugh?
Clayton [lying]: No.
James: Pity. People are so earnest these days.
Clayton: Why? Was it supposed to be funny?
James: Yes, of course. A picture about death, I had to make it interesting for myself, you see. So, a comedy about death…The trick is not to spoil it for anyone who’s not in on the joke. But the monster never receives any of my jibes. He’s noble. Noble and misunderstood.
…
Clayton: You’re a homosexual.
James: Mmm! If one must use the clinical name.
Clayton: I’m not, you know.
James: I never thought you were.
Clayton: You don’t think of me that way, do you?
James: And what way would that be?
Clayton: Well, the way that I look at women.
James: Oh, don’t be ridiculous. I know a real man like you would break my neck if I so much as laid a finger on you. Besides, you’re not my type. So we understand each other. Clayton: Hey. Live and let live.
…
James: You might not think it to look at me now, but there was a time when I was at the very pinnacle of my profession. The horror movies were behind me. I’d made Showboat. Major success. Big box office. So now I was to do something important. The picture was called The Road Back. It was an indictment of the Great War and what it did to Germany. It was going to be my masterpiece.
Clayton: What happened?
James: The fucking studio butchered it. They took the guts out of my picture. They brought in another director to add some slapstick and the movie laid an egg. A great, expensive bomb for which I was blamed. And after that I was out of fashion. I could no longer command the best projects, so I walked away. Why should I spend my time working in this dreadful business?
…
James: …when the fetters are loosened, a certain hedonism creeps in, don’t you think? Oh, there was a time when this house was full of young men. Some of them even posed for me, right where you’re sitting now. Of course, they weren’t nearly so bashful. Oh, no, this studio was full of bare buttocks and pricks…Mmm. Hard, arrogant pricks.
Clayton [exploding out of the blue]: Okay, just cut it out! Okay? Isn’t it bad enough that you’ve told me you’re a fuckin’ fairy? Now you’re gonna rub my face in it?!
James [startled]: I assure you, I didn’t mean…
Clayton: Fuck this! I can’t do this anymore! From now on, I’m just the guy that cuts your lawn. Got it?
…
James: And the fear that you displayed at our last session…how did you overcome that? Clayton: More like disgust.
Jamers: Oh, same difference, Mr. Boone. Disgust, fear of the unknown…all part of the great gulf that stands between us two. Am I right in assuming that you have little experience with men of my persuasion? No teammates in football?
Clayton: No.
James: No comrades in Korea?
Clayton: You must think that the whole world is queer. Well, you know what? It’s not. And war certainly isn’t.
James: Oh, there may be no atheists in the foxholes, but there are, occasionally, lovers.
…
James [greeting Princess Margaret]: This is my gardener Clayton Boone. He’s never met a princess before, only queens.
…
Clayton [referring to conversation between Whale and Cuckor]: What was that all about?
James: Oh, don’t worry. Nothing of any importance. Just two old men slapping each other with lilies.
…
Clayton: That must’ve been funny for you, seeing your “monsters” again.
James [tapping himself on the forehead]: Monsters? The only monsters are in here.
…
James: Barnett. Barnett on the wire.
Clayton: Your friend.
Yes. He caught his one night coming back from reconnaissance. I wouldn’t take him, but McGill did, “just to give the laddie a taste.” They were nearly home when a Maxim gun opened fire. Barnet’s body landed on this wire that was as thick as briers. It was hanging there the next morning. It was only a hundred yards from the line, but too far for anyone to fetch it. So we saw him every morning stand-to and every evening stand-to. “Good morning, Barnett,” we used to say to him. “How’s Barnett looking today?” “He seemed a little peaked. Looks a little plumper.” And he hung there…well, at least until we were relieved. We introduced him to the new unit before marching out, speaking highly of his companionship. God, we were a witty lot. Laughing at our dead, feeling that it was our death too. But I tell you, for each man who died I thought, “Better you than me, poor sod.” You know, a whole generation was wiped out by that war.
…
James: Look. Your portrait, Clayton. It’s all gone for me now. All gone. They’re nothing but the scribblings of an infant. There’s nothing…
…
James: Wait till I tell my friends about this. Won’t they be surprised.
Clayton: I haven’t done anything with you.
James: You undressed for me. I’ve been kissing you. I even touched your prick! How will you ever be able to live with yourself?
Clayton: What do you want from me?
James: I want you to kill me. Break my neck. Come on, strangle me. It’ll be so easy to choke the life out of me. Oh, God. We’ve come this far. I’m losing my mind. Every day a new piece of it goes, and soon there’ll be none of it left. But if you kill me, death will be bearable. You could be my second monster. Come on. Please, do it now. Make me invisible. [/b]