75: Dancing Frankenstein

This past week, my husband and I went to the Joffrey Ballet for their production of Frankenstein. I genuinely can't remember the last time I went to the ballet, but it must have been nearly two decades ago, and most likely to see The Nutcracker. Frankenstein (the novel) is one of my favorites, and my appreciation for it has deepened with every adaptation I've seen. I went to the ballet hoping to catch a new angle on a story I love.

I'm not an expert on dance, so I can't speak to the ballet itself, but to my inexpert eye, the work was beautiful. This adaptation grounds itself in Frankenstein's familial relationships–his love for his parents, his romantic attraction to Elizabeth, an orphan whom his family had taken in and raised as their own, his grief at the death of his mother in childbirth. The music, and the dance along with it, swoons and soars in a register that feels capital-R Romantic, appropriate for the ballet's setting in the late 18th century. Both set and costume design reflect this choice as well: Frankenstein the man is marked by his black clothing and a red journal, which he guards with his life, and which evokes a human heart whenever it's held by a character on stage.

The ballet's singular focus on Frankenstein's desires–to study, to be with Elizabeth, and eventually to defeat the Creature he's made–unfortunately overshadows the role of the Creature. Unlike the novel, which gives voice to the Creature's will and desires, this version of the story favors Frankenstein's anguish, relegating the Creature to the shadows. We're made to pity the monster, but we're never invited to understand him in the same way that we do Frankenstein. This feels partially due to the structure of the ballet, which places the creation of the Creature very nearly at the centerpoint of the plot; once created, we don't get to see him dance until after Frankenstein has returned home from his studies. Both parts were danced beautifully; I can't fault the story in its execution. What little I did see of the Creature left me tantalized and wanting more.

What I wrote:

Over at Seeing & Believing, Kevin covered John Carney's Flora and Son, while I contributed a capsule review of Foe. (We'll be trading off newsletter-writing duties; stay tuned for next week's issue, where Kevin will be covering Scorsese's Killers of the Flower Moon.)

What I'm listening to:

The new Dessa record, Bury the Lede. I've been in a bit of a music funk lately, and not the good kind. I like Dessa's energy, and her wordplay; it's good smart pump-up music, the kind that makes me feel good to listen to, even when I'm stuck in traffic.