Clearly relishing and savouring every moment he inhabits the irascible character of James Whale, Ian McKellen brings terrific dignity, humanity and ultimately pathos to a role that could so easily have become mawkish. With the stock elements of an old luvvie queen, old age, war trauma, disease and period costume all in place, "Gods and Monsters" could so easily have become another example of worthy-but-dull cinema. Thankfully however, it steers well clear of any notion of the sentimental chocolate-box nostalgia that marrs so many British 'heritage' movies.
McKellen is greatly helped by the sharp, intelligent and surprisingly bawdy script he is given. (His expletive-ridden outburst at an aristocratic party lingers long in the mind.) He seems to relish too playing the dirty old man. The film takes great delight in numerous homo-erotic set pieces, most notably when Whale agrees to an interview with an enthusiastic Frankenstein fan on the sole condition that his interrogator remove an item of clothing upon each reply.
Lynn Redgrave proves a wonderful comic foil as Whale's housekeeper, tut-tutting his love of boys and grumbling over her insurmountable duties, yet clearly keeping a soft spot for her demanding employer.
This is no frivolous piece however. A real heart resonates throughout the script, and in the wonderful, generous interplay between McKellen and Brendan Fraser as his ex-marine gardener-come-model. Fraser's role is possibly the most difficult, and many a lesser pretty-boy actor would have been tempted to overplay the initial homophobia and strident masculinity as a direct counterpoint to McKellen's gentle persuasion. He gets the balance right throughout, showing a perfect mixture of confusion, intrigue and discovery throughout the scenes they share.
Then there are the extra touches. The half-remembered war flashbacks that never outstay their welcome and never over-explain themselves. The magical moments when Whale's house is transformed in his eyes into the blissful summer haunt of his youth, filled with beautiful young male bodies. And finally, what shall be elliptically referred to here as the "gas mask" scene, one of the strangest and most puzzlingly disturbing sequences in recent British cinema.
Given Whale's fame in the horror genre, comparisons with Tim Burton's loving tribute to sci-fi failure Ed Wood are inevitable. While never scaling Burton's film's dizzying heights (a feat Burton himself will probably never manage again either), "Gods and Monsters"' aim is somewhat simpler. Aside from the obvious Fraser/Frankenstein correlation (perhaps a bit too obviously signposted in places), and the authentically reconstructed black and white sequences, the film is less about film than about a man quite at odds with the world, yet somehow finding his own happiness, however jaded by experience. Like Fraser's character, the audience has spent some time under someone else's skin, never quite getting the whole way in, but staying just long enough to have their world-view shaken a little. Which is no bad thing. Judging from this film, Whale would probably have approved.