.1 ) as Victor Frankenstein. 1
Eighteen years later an LP recording of the tale was issued in the Super 8 Monsters series with Jackson Beck as the Narrator and Peter Fernandez as Victor. Most recently, Quicksilver Radio Theater created a one-hour adaptation that premiered on American public radio in 2007 and was twice rebroadcast on Frederick Greenhalgh’s valuable Radio Drama Revival podcast in 2009. There are several other English radio adaptations of Frankenstein , originally broadcast on both sides of the Atlantic, readily available, but
This article examines the post-millennial popularity of the found footage movie, in particular its engagement with the representational codes of non-fiction media. Whilst the majority of critical writings on found footage identify the 11 September attacks on the World Trade Centre as a key visual referent, they too often dwell on the literal re-enactment of the event. This article instead suggests that these films evoke fear by mimicking the aesthetic and formal properties of both mainstream news coverage and amateur recording. As such they create both ontological and epistemological confusion as to the reality of the events depicted. Rather than merely replicating the imagery of terror/ism, these films achieve their terrifying effects by mimicking the audiences media spectatorship of such crisis.
Interviewing can be a vampiric act especially when it involves leeching from its subject
the fluidic exchange which exists between life and art. The vampire novelist Anne Rice had
agreed to let me interview her at Waterstones Bookshop in Bristol, England, on 26 January
1993 about the fourth book in her Vampire Chronicles, The Tale of the Body
Thief (1992). In the interview she describes the novel as dealing with the
differences between art and life and mortality and immortality. Specifically, the story
examines the paradox of choosing to be Undead for the sake of life, and the way in which
art opens up a locus for a redemption that is outside of life. In my view, the text is as
much about the process of interviewing as about authorship. A more obvious example is
Rice‘s well-known novel Interview with the Vampire (1976) in which the
hapless interviewer eventually enters into the very narrative he is recording by becoming
another Ricean revenant.
Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein is one of the most popular novels in western literature. It has been adapted and re-assembled in countless forms, from Hammer Horror films to young-adult books and bandes dessinées. Beginning with the idea of the ‘Frankenstein Complex’, this edited collection provides a series of creative readings that explore the elaborate intertextual networks that make up the novel’s remarkable afterlife. It broadens the scope of research on Frankenstein while deepening our understanding of a text that, 200 years after its original publication, continues to intrigue and terrify us in new and unexpected ways.
Liveness, performance, and adaptation
In his book, Liveness and Recording in the Media , Andrew Crisell seeks to account for the value that is placed on the quality of liveness in television and radio broadcasting. He explains that ‘the crucial element of liveness is temporal: co-presence in time ’ (original emphasis), and that ‘[c]o-presence in space without temporal co-presence is almost meaningless because if two people are not temporally co-present they cannot be spatially co-present’ (14). He continues
Adaptive symbiosis and Peake’s Presumption, or the fate of Frankenstein
Frankenstein and the Creature as doppelgangers. Bloom centres that reading in critical Frankenstein studies: ‘A critical discussion of Frankenstein needs to begin from an insight first recorded by Richard Church and Muriel Spark: the monster and his creator are the antithetical halves of a single being’ ( Shelley’s Frankenstein 2). Here we see yet another facet of adaptation: critical interpretations or readings as adaptations (Stam 62–3). Significantly, Bloom’s ‘first’ recordings of the doppelganger reading appear decades apart, Church’s in 1928 ( Mary Shelley ) and
signals a violent attack on his body. It also stands in contrast to the earlier Universal films which built slowly and dramatically to transformation, through the musical underscore as well as signifiers of foreboding, such as Glendon's cat hissing and lashing out at him before he begins to change. Here the poignant quality of ‘Blue Moon’ deliberately contrasts with the violence of David's reaction, immediately ripping off his clothes, as the transformation begins. The sounds of David screaming and the recording of ‘Blue Moon’ continue throughout the scene, blurring
Frankenstein, neo-Victorian fiction, and the palimpsestuous literary past
1 Glut differs from Morton and Florescu (166) in recording the title of this drama as Frank-in-Steam (145).
2 Widdowson borrows Adrienne Rich’s notion of ‘re-visioning’ to describe texts (including neo-Victorian ones) that reimagine the literary past (496).
3 Jameson argues that such historiographic metafictions often convey ‘the feel of the real past better than any of the “facts” themselves’ (368) – at least as much as any ‘real’ past can ever be reconstructed. Their historical
Sara B. Elfgren and Mats Strandberg’s teenage witch trilogy
Maria Holmgren Troy
paranormal), Olu Jenzen suggests, ‘provides the latter with a possibility to retain strong mimetic qualities, yet interrogate realism's ideological gesture’.
She explains that the ‘genre of social realism, or realism in its critical form, has at its heart the idea of recording life on the social margins, foregrounding authenticity as a politicised mode’; it developed in the Scandinavian countries in the early twentieth century ‘in tandem with the tradition of working-class literature’ and was related to ‘the development