Leave it to Peter Lorre to make me realize just how creepy the Pygmalion–Galatea myth is. He gives a delicious twist on the mad scientist trope and the worst seduction line of all time: “I, a poor peasant, have conquered science. Why can’t I conquer love. Don’t you understand? You must be mine!” (Also hat tip to whoever decided to name Lorre’s Dr Gogol after my favorite Russian author.)
Colin Clive, who’d been used to doing the chopping and sewing as Dr Frankenstein, gets the tables turned on him as pianist who receives a transplant of murderous hands from Lorre (though I’m not sure who botched Frances Drake’s eyebrow transplants from a much larger head.)
Karl Freund’s hybrid DNA of German Expressionism (Metropolis) and Universal Horror (Dracula, The Mummy) plus Gregg Toland’s cinematography results in a delightfully stylized gothic aesthetic and atmosphere.