He's somewhat confused by the grandiose distress and realizes he must avoid the village, hiding out in the surrounding forest where he longs for inclusivity.
Life's life and who's to challenge what lives if it co-exists with equanimity, securing an active balanced role within Earth's multidimensional nexus.
Frankenstein understands this and strives to harmoniously make friends, but fear and aesthetic prejudice lead to inhospitable conflict.
Meanwhile, another scientist takes wholesome pity on the troubled lad (Ernest Thesiger as Dr. Pretorius), and theorizes that traditional heteronormative constructs may lead to acculturation.
He enlists the reluctant aid of Frankenstein's industrious forefather (Colin Clive as Henry Frankenstein), and sets about creating a mate to appease tumultuous chaotic bearings.
Frankenstein seems somewhat relieved by the altruistic acclamation, having only known disarray since having been shockingly brought to life.
But there's no telling what will happen if the experiment's a success.
Conjugal communal courtly cohesion.
But what if she rejects him?
Few sequels disproportionately proceed with such ineffable progressive momentum, enticingly accelerating with riveting resonance immaculately distilled otherworldly genesis.
Few horror films possess such paramount cultural inoculations, as instinctual bellicose folly is disemboweled with airtight empathy.
The classic scenes where Frankenstein meets the visually impaired violinist living alone in the woods, modest heartfelt honest exemplars of innocent curious tame compassion.
The inspired unchecked ebullience emphatically exclaimed through experimentation, as both doctors philosophically articulate bold corporeal determinations.
Will a future filled with androids be relatively harmless as Picard hopes, or will The Terminator's prophetic bedlam come to calamitously pass?
Does the answer lie within this daring tragic Bride of Frankenstein?
Can animate life for mercy's sake . . .
Also apply to friendly robots?
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