They say Mary Shelley (nee Godwin) conceived the idea for her most famous novel, Frankenstein: or, The Modern Prometheus (published in 1818), during a summer holiday with her partner, the radical poet-philosopher Percey Shelley, and the poet, Lord Byron in 1816.

Good thing, she did. For one, her story about a scientist called Frankenstein — who assembles a living being from dead body parts only to find that the creature he has created has a mind and intelligence that exceeds the creator’s expectations — has been staple cinema fodder for the past seven decades starting with the excellent James Whale film, released in 1931.

For another, the phrase “created a Frankenstein” has entered the lexicon. For those with a reading habit, it implies the creation of a situation which is sure to turn on its head and, quite literally, bite the hand that feeds it. In the often ludicrous world of Pakistani journalism in the English language, the eventual misinterpretation of the context of Shelley’s novel can lead to unintentionally amusing analogies.

But for a deliberately humorous look into the intense storyline of Shelley’s book, we should need to look no further than Mel Brooks’ Young Frankenstein (1974). They say Brooks used the same location and sets used for Whale’s 1931 film in which the legendary Boris Karloff starred in the defining role of his career as The Monster, created by Frankenstein.

But that’s where the similarity ends. The gifted Gene Wilder plays Frankenstein in Brooks’ spoof of the ‘horror film’ genre in general; and Frankenstein, in particular. This is comedy taken to a new level of hilarity. And it could so easily be taken as a metaphor for the often startlingly funny world of Pakistani politics where, considering what all lies at stake, the goof-ups are ridiculous.

But cinematic, or television, versions of Frankenstein aren’t always as brilliantly made as Brooks’ film, or Whale’s version.

A television series, starring Donald Sutherland and William Hurt (with neither as Frankenstein, mind you), was released in 2004 and sank immediately into the oblivion it was destined for.

Of course, the intentions were honourable — a la Pakistani politics: the measure was undertaken to keep the continuity going; to tell the story again for a new generation perceived to be drifting away from the reading habit and drawn toward screens of every conceivable variety: cinema, television, computer, mobile phone.

But it was superfluous, given that exactly ten years before, British auteur Kenneth Branagh had directed what is considered the definitive cinematic retelling of the story of Frankenstein’s creation. Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein (1994) starred Branagh as the scientist and Robert De Niro as The Creature — with the beautiful Helena Bonham-Carter, Aidan Quinn and John Cleese in supporting roles.

But then, the remake is a Hollywood obsession — just as the return of the ubiquitous party leader from safe havens abroad, or from the confines of a jail, to positions of power and grandeur is a given in Pakistani politics.

In 1985, Sting, front-man for the 1970s-80s powerhouse band, The Police and occasional actor, was cast as Frankenstein in The Bride, with the gorgeous Jennifer Beals in the title role. The film was a remake — of sorts — of Bride of Frankenstein (1935) which was James Whale’s sequel to his earlier film from four years hence. As the title suggests, Whale’s much lauded follow-up saw The Monster (played by Karloff, again) be blessed with a mate, also created by Frankenstein.

Fifty years later, the version starring Sting took the same tack but added a few twists for contemporary audiences. Beals, still riding the crest of the heady success of her breakthrough role in 1983’s Flashdance, and Sting were, therefore, considered to be box-office draws but their performances paled in comparison to the backdrop created by stunning locales, brilliant cinematography and superb period recreation.

But then, whenever the backdrop is either too beautiful or too starkly painful — such as a country riven by political strife, rising poverty, striking lawyers, religious intolerance and suicide bomb attacks — the performances of key players are always going to pale in significance. Especially, if they lack substance. As Sting and Beals did.

The best part, though, about life is that it always finds a way to overcome the kinks and creases caused by evolutionary excesses. In the case of cinematic versions of Frankenstein, the doom and gloom of the 1931 original was replaced by quintessential humour in Abbott and Costello meet Frankenstein (1948) and, as a natural by-product of the “Blaxploitation” fad in the 1970s, by a film called Blackenstein (1972) in which The Monster sports a square afro!

The down side to life, however, is that before the kinks are overcome, there is a tough gestation period that has to be endured. Sometimes, there are complications along the way, such as a country’s democratic process waylaid by the unscrupulous and the unjust. Or, simply, the naiveté of a well-meaning populace intent on creating their own monster who will, in all likelihood, turn on them in no time.