He made some good movies ("Frankenstein" placed 87th on the American Film Institute's list of great American films, although "The Bride of Frankenstein" is by far the better of the two pictures). He began as an actor, lost his first love in World War I and joined the exodus to Hollywood, where he made a lot of money and never quite realized his potential. He must have seemed an attractive challenge to Ian McKellen, the gifted British Shakespearean who in this film and "Apt Pupil" is belatedly flourishing in the movies after much distinction on the stage.
McKellen playing Whale makes sense, but is it ideal casting to use Brendan Fraser ("George Of The Jungle") as Clayton Boone, the young man who comes to cut the grass? Fraser is subtle and attuned to the role, but doesn't project strong sexuality; shouldn't the yard man be not simply attractive but potentially exciting to the old man? We never ever believe there's a possibility that anything physical will occur between them--and we should, I think.
Of course, Whale's ambitions in that direction are mostly daydreams, and finally he's more interested in simply regarding the young man. He asks Clayton to be his artist's model, a request which essentially translates as, "Will you take off your clothes and stand there while I look at you?"
Clayton is slow to understand that Whale is gay. Well, in 1957, a lot of people might not have understood. When he figures it out, he isn't angered and there's no painful and predictable scene of violence. Instead, the film proceeds on a bittersweet course in which a young and not terribly bright man grows to like an old and very intelligent man, and to pity him a little. The film is a biopic leading toward a graceful elegy.
Similar material was dealt with earlier this year in "Love and Death on Long Island," starring John Hurt as an aging British writer who develops a crush on an American teen heartthrob (Jason Priestley). That was a funnier movie, and also more elusive, since the Hurt character is not an active homosexual (indeed, hardly seems sexual at all) and hardly understands the nature of his own obsession. Levels of irony were possible. In "Gods and Monsters," on the other hand, both the director and the yard man are pretty much kept at the service of the film's sentimental vision.
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