Soon the Kenneth Strickfadden electrical phantasmagorical high amperage show of pyrogeysers is crackling and arcing away, and before Wolf can say "why aren't the sulfur fumes knocking me out?" the monster is back on his eighteen-pound asphalter boots, kicking up some mayhem at Ygor's bidding. After trying to make friends — and woo a lab-ordered bride — Karloff's monster no longer looks for understanding; he's simply fed up with people screaming at the sight of him, or shooting at him, or chasing after him with flaming torches. Passing in front of a mirror he pauses to despise his visage. He hates what he is and not even Dr. Phil can help. Misunderstood and feared, after being treated as a monster for so long, he now is one and acts accordingly. Karloff must have realized, at this point, anyone could play the monster, and so the role was taken over by Lon Chaney Jr. in Ghost of Frankenstein, and Glenn Strange (the iconic 1960s image of the monster) in House of Frankenstein.

The relegation of Frankenstein's creation to stock monster status is not the only thing carried over to subsequent movies. Any dichotomy of nature versus nurture, dialectic regarding responsibility and determinism, and display of pathos is left behind in favor of a quick fix gimmick that begins here and continues through Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man and the later stories -- since the monster's brain is bad, he's bad; replace his brain with a good one and he becomes good. Splendid! Now why didn't Wolf's father think of that and save the villagers all this trouble?

The hunt for a new brain begins with little Shirley Temple-cute Peter Frankenstein (Donnie Dunagan), Wolf's son. The monster takes a liking to him and eventually figures out that if he had Peter's brain, maybe he'd be as sweet and innocent and fun to be with; still creepy and awfully big, but fun to be with. Of course, Donnie Dunagan's odd southern drawl — given his dad has a noticeable British accent and his mom (Emma Dunn) has perfect diction — should have given the monster pause for concern.

Inspector Krogh begins to suspect foul things are afoot when town council members start turning up dead, and Ygor brazenly struts around playing his blasted horn, agitating the villagers while Wolf is increasingly high-strung, bordering on snippy, every time Krogh pays him a visit. Both Rathbone and Atwill, classically trained British actors who could intentionally overact, play off each other, with Atwill slowly simmering and Rathbone rapidly boiling. As the villagers once again get ready to storm the castle, Krogh's impatience with Wolf's supercilious attitude reaches the breaking point. In answer to Wolf's defiant question to name one person whom the monster has killed or hurt, Krogh recalls his own horrific experience.

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