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Danse MacabreIt is developed the way a bright but naive debate student might develop his line of argument. Unlike the films based upon it, there are few scenes of violence, and unlike the inarticulate monster of the Universal days ("the Karloff films," as Forry Ackerman so charmingly calls them), Shelley's creature speaks with the orotund, balanced phrases of peer in the House of Lords or William F. Buckley disputing politely with Dick Cavett on a TV talk show. He is a cerebral creature, the direct opposite of Karloff's physically overbearing monster with the shovel forel,ead and the sunken, stupidly crafty eyes; and in all the book's pages there is nothing as chilling as Karloff's line in The Bride of Frankenstein, spoken in that dull, dead, and dragging tenor: "Yes . . . dead . . . I love . . . dead.БЂ«Ms. Shelley's novel is subtitled "The Modern Prometheus," and the Prometheus in question is Victor Frankenstein. He leaves hearth and home to go to university in Ingolstadt (and already we can hear the whirr of the author's grindstone as she prepares to sharpen one of the horror genre's most famous axes: There Are Some Things Mankind Was Not Meant To Know) , where he gets a lot of crazy-and dangerous-ideas put into his head about galvanism and alchemy ...» | Код для вставки книги в блог HTML
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