Review: ‘I, Frankenstein’ staggers forth barely bolted together
Conspiracy theorists might posit that January is when the movie industry deliberately sours audiences so that summer’s merest uptick in popcorn entertainment value feels like a drought vanquished. Exhibit A in this argument could be the gray, dumb, bolt in the neck called “I, Frankenstein.”
There’s certainly no moviegoing reanimation in director Stuart Beattie’s adaptation of Kevin Grevioux’s graphic novel. Of the several ways to continue the story of Victor Frankenstein’s tragic, soul-challenged creation after the late 19th century events of Mary Shelley’s classic novel, a clanging cemetery fight with demons and gargoyles doesn’t inspire a ton of narrative confidence. Neither does the aggressively silly, breakneck-paced expository dialogue that gives the creature (Aaron Eckhart) — dubbed Adam by the Gargoyle Queen (Miranda Otto) — a crash course in what he’s stepped into: an eternal (and how so) battle between demons and gargoyles for the fate of humanity.
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Scanning Eckhart’s chiseled, self-serious mug for a little “I averted villagers with pickaxes for this?” humor proves futile. Cut to present day, and his updated action attire — hoodie, jeans, sensible haircut — reads angry soccer dad more than monster warrior. The pretty electrophysiologist (Yvonne Strahovski) stitches up wounds on his ripped physique, and … nothing happens. When even the sinister shtick of Bill Nighy (as demon overlord Naberius) fails to amuse, all truly feels lost.
What’s left are shots swooping in and swooping out, and digitized figures in pre-programmed combat, with Mary Shelley thanked in the credits — for not rising from the dead to protest, one presumes.
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