Ask any esteemed film critic what the best classic horror movie is and I’ll bet you a thousand corpses they’ll say Bride of Frankenstein (1935).  I’ve never understood the appeal of this film; it’s not bad, really, it’s just not as great as the cinema snobs would like us to believe.

Of course, my harsh opinion of Bride of Frankenstein is mainly directed at its most notorious character: no, not the Bride, but the excruciatingly annoying Minnie the maidservant, a godawful character who’s just as irritating as she is unfunny.  James Whale was often remembered for his queer sense of humor (queer as in queer, not ‘queer’, although he was that, too), and he thought having a screeching old twit appear in nearly every scene, shrieking like a tortured parrot, would be “a hoot”.