In the annals of horror comedy, Mel Brooks’ Young Frankenstein occupies a unique space for both its plot-driven narrative and its subtle inclusivity. Combining satire, parody and slapstick, the film is effective primarily due to its reinterpretation of genre tropes and its commitment to illustrating how inequitable cultural systems are predicated upon illogical thinking so absurd as to be laughable. And, on the whole, it is a largely effective undertaking. Whether it is Igor’s machinations which work to dismantle ideas about the limitations of disability or Inspector Kemp’s ineptitude which calls into question our blind trust in systems of justice, there is a laudable amount of political subtext permeating the film which is why the rape scene that occurs a mere nine minutes before its conclusion is especially jarring. It would be easier if Young Frankenstein was a film that hates women but it’s not. Instead, the rape scene serves as a spectacular example of the failure of allyship.
Though Young Frankenstein traffics in primarily 1930s horror film satirization, its female depictions deconstruct a larger swath of cinematic performances. Whether it’s the sexually transgressive Frau Blucher echoing the icy, diabolical aloofness of a Mrs. Danvers in Rebecca (1940) or the beautiful Inga sending up vapid characters like Lucy in Dracula (1931), these roles don’t so much reflect but undermine the sexist perceptions upon which they are based. Blucher is provided a backstory that explains her bizarre behavior while Inga demonstrates that she isn’t unintelligent so much as she is literal. Young Frankenstein‘s script is careful to dissect the inherent misogyny of these character tropes and should be commended for its ability to refrain from implicit bias presentation. For example, the audience sees Dr. Frankenstein’s class filled with men and women and there is never a cat fight between Elizabeth and Inga for Frederik’s affections. All of which suggests that it’s quite likely Brooks and his co-writer, Gene Wilder, expected the rape scene to be read quite differently by the audience and, in fact, not to be read as a rape scene at all but a play on 1930s seduction scenes. The post-coital scene of The Monster and Elizabeth enjoying a cigarette implies that not only are both satisfied with the experience, but that the encounter allows Elizabeth to cast off her puritanical thinking on sex and enjoy her sexuality. It’s a moment meant to transgress conservative politics that ultimately falls flat because instead of undermining systems of oppression against a marginalized group, it reflects it.
Mrs. Danvers and Frau Blücher
The contextualization of the rape scene in Young Frankenstein is important in understanding the evolution of how it is read by those with an understanding of sexual assault and trauma and by those without. Elizabeth, played as a repressed socialite by the supremely talented Madeline Kahn, is abducted from her bedroom and brought to the forest where she finds The Monster leering over her prone body. It is clear from the dialogue that Elizabeth is aware that The Monster intends to rape her. She vacillates between threats and bribes as a means of staving off the assault to no avail. However, her pleas soon give way to expressions of pleasure and it is implied that she has found sexual fulfillment thanks in part to The Monster’s large penis. The two then end the film in a state of questionable domestic bliss with Elizabeth shown to be the sexual aggressor in the relationship and The Monster the henpecked husband.
Horror films are designed to trespass against socially constructed perceptions of normalcy in order to illustrate inequity, while comedy films encourage laughing at those inequities in order to de-stigmatize their impact and force reconsideration of the ideas that perpetuate those beliefs. I’ve heard the relationship between horror and comedy explained as different sides of the same coin and I think that’s an apt description. By its nature, horror comedy must juggle both of those objectives to be effective and in a sense, Young Frankenstein does get this right. 1930s and 40s horror, especially, is chock full of dubious sexual politics and the scene is clearly riffing on the idea of a woman playing hard to get because that’s what society has taught her is proper. Ultimately, the scene fails, however, because it is predicated on the idea that there is a relationship between rape and seduction. To be fair, this correlation is not an uncommon one in popular culture. Rhett rapes Scarlett in Gone with the Wind (1939), Bond rapes Pussy Galore in Goldfinger (1964), and Luke rapes Laura on General Hospital (1979). In each of these scenarios, as with Young Frankenstein, the victim winds up falling for her rapist and there is no indication it is seen as problematic. But only in the latter are we asked to laugh at the assault and that elicited physiological response moves the scene away from one the viewer is watching to one the viewer is participating in willingly.
If Young Frankenstein‘s script really wanted to challenge the thinking inherent in traditional seduction scenes, Elizabeth’s response would not have been linked to the domestic sphere. Instead, what we get is a reiteration of traditional male/female dynamics in which the audience’s sympathy is left to reside with The Monster for having to live with a forceful and sexually demanding wife. This is especially borne out in how the characterization of The Monster colors the rape scene. Unlike its source material, this creature looks and acts largely human. Its lack of discernible otherness in the rape scene, coupled with our understanding thanks to the song and dance sequence that it can process and respond to commands, forces the moment to read as explicitly human. Though it only responds in grunts, it’s clear that The Monster understands that this is not something Elizabeth wants but still decides to continue with the assault. And here’s where I think it’s important to consider the cultural environment in which this scene was written. In the early 1970s, the marital exemption in rape laws was increasingly under attack. While it wasn’t until 1975 that the rape of a spouse became illegal in the United States (though not until 1993 in all states), the discussion was a public one, especially in politically liberal circles; circles frequented by Brooks and Wilder. The decision then not only to play a rape for laughs but also to frame it as explicitly domestic illustrates an extreme disconnect for two men who often addressed gender inequality through humor in their work.
It might be tempting to write off a critique of this scene as modern values being foisted upon a dated film but such a view doesn’t leave space for appreciating the uniqueness of Young Frankenstein as a hybrid film. Acknowledging the moment for the sexual assault that it is enables a more complex understanding of the connective tissue that binds horror and comedy. Beyond their construal by many film critics as lesser cinematic fare, both genres rely upon building narrative tension the aim of which is to inspire a physiological reaction in the viewer; laughter from comedy and fear from horror. But here the intended viewer reaction gets upended so that what was intended to be comedic in 1974 reads as horrific in 2018.
Unlike the parodic and screwball comedy elements that comprise the majority of Young Frankenstein, this scene is based almost entirely on situational humor. The audience is supposed to laugh at the assault itself, permission we are granted by Elizabeth herself when she exclaims, “Woof” at seeing The Monster’s penis, and at how the attack fundamentally changes Elizabeth’s character. Leading up to the rape, great care is taken to underscore Elizabeth’s frigidity, a point emphasized by her repeated requests to Frederick to “watch the hair” when he tries to be physical. Yet, after the assault, Elizabeth embraces her sexuality to the point that she now sports a decidedly non-coiffed hairdo. The implication is that the rape has liberated Elizabeth from cultural expectation and all it took was a well-endowed penis.
Modern viewing shifts those comedic elements squarely back into the realm of horror. We know that sexual assault triggers trauma and that promiscuity is a not an uncommon reaction to being violated. With this knowledge, a joke initially crafted to bring about laughter morphs into something wholly sinister for both what it suggests as well as for its utter nonchalance. Elizabeth no longer reads as liberated but as traumatized and it begs the question as to how two men active in the women’s liberation movement didn’t recognize the difference.
When I first watched Young Frankenstein years ago, I was young enough that the rape scene went over my head. But my viewing this time came just days after Dr. Ford testified of her sexual assault during the Kavanaugh confirmation hearings. The part that still stands out to me is that when asked what she most clearly remembered, Dr. Ford answered, “the laughter.” While fictional sexual assault is obviously not even remotely similar to that sustained in real life, popular culture does contribute to codifying certain behaviors. If we are encouraged to laugh at an act, it becomes that much easier to dismiss it. And while that commitment to laughing at cultural systems of oppression works in Young Frankenstein in order to dismantle notions of racism and gender, it doesn’t work with rape because violation simply isn’t funny. It never was.
You can find Young Frankenstein streaming and on DVD:
