Fear Factor

Monster

by Mark Cofta

Gregory Scott Campbell CREATURE COMFORT: Frankenstein's monster (John Lopes) gives Elizabeth (Melissa Lynch) a hug the only way he knows how. (CLICK IMAGE FOR LARGER VERSION)

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley's Frankenstein has been adapted for stage and film innumerable times. We all know it without knowing the original; many don't even recognize that the name Frankenstein refers not to the man-made monster, but to his creator. Shelley's groundbreaking work has survived parody (e.g., Mel Brooks' Young Frankenstein) and dismemberment (e.g., a particularly vile splicing of the Frankenstein and Dracula stories that, lucky for all of us, didn't survive its Buffalo, N.Y., première), and will surely outlast pop psychology — e.g., Neal Bell's Monster, now being staged by Luna Theater Co.

Shelley, of course, wrote pre-Freud (1818), and didn't dwell on the social and emotional factors that make precocious Victor Frankenstein (Dan Hodge) a demented Doctor Dolittle — a nascent serial killer (by today's assumptions) who chats up his pets before he dissects them. Bell revels in psychological arithmetic: Dad's atheism plus Mom's madness divided by Victor's penchant for vivisection equals Victor's query, "Papa, am I a god?" and Dad's enigmatic answer, "You could give it a try."

Change some names, add a few pretty profilers with guns and cell phones, and it's TV's Criminal Minds.

Bell's connect-the-dots analysis extends to The Creature, played with raw power by John Lopes. When he appears — birthed, full grown, in agony and terror, in Victor's lab — director Gregory Scott Campbell's production shakes off its awkward mishmash of period posing and modern emoting and becomes, ironically, a more human story. But Bell's Psych 101 agenda thwarts their efforts: The Creature becomes an erudite navel-gazer (perhaps reading a lot of self-help books while exiled to the woods?), debating Victor about godly creation. Unlike humans, he actually knows he was made by another, and can ask his creator why and expect an answer, which proves unsatisfying: "I wanted to save humankind from death," Victor lies, his motives clearly more selfish, "but all I did was give you life."

Lest the good ol' monster story get overwhelmed by, you know, themes and ideas and stuff, the Creature abandons philosophy to inspire giggles by asking, "Why did he give me a cock?" Oh, of course, it's all about sex (thanks, Sigmund), not all that boring God talk. Bell mines Shelley's story to speed to a busy conclusion: The Creature kills, Victor frets and we're left with events but no answers (just like TV!). If we learn anything, it's that the man (or Creature) without conscience is king.

Campbell and an impressive ensemble labor with material that barely scratches the surface of Shelley's ideas or the existential terror her novel inspires. Millie Hiibel's costumes help define the period but Dan Soule's scenic design features a ghoulish plank chair and little else; and Maria Shaplin's lighting lacks detail until the play's final moments. But it's Ryk Lewis' sound that really typifies the play's muddiness. Modern music may serve Bell's script, but when a character says he hears dogs and then they bark, it's a clue that cause and effect are ridiculously confused.

(m_cofta@citypaper.net)

Monster | Through Nov. 2, Luna Theater Co., Walnut Street Theatre, Independence Studio on 3, 825 Walnut St., 866-811-4111, lunatheater.org