I, Frankenstein

Winnipeg Free Press - Section G - - ENTERTAINMENT -

Star­ring Aaron Eck­hart Kil­do­nan Place, McGil­livray, Polo Park Imax, St. Vi­tal, Towne PG 93 min­utes

out of five Adam is res­cued by the gar­goyle min­ions of Queen Leonore (Mi­randa Otto takes on the movie’s thank­less Basil Ex­po­si­tion du­ties), who ex­plains it is the duty of all good gar­goyles to keep the de­mons at bay. The unim­pressed Adam says thanks but no thanks to Leonore’s of­fer of shel­ter, but two cen­turies later, still ha­rassed by de­mon vis­its, Adam is com­pelled back to the mas­sive cathe­dral head­quar­ters of the gar­goyles to fi­nally get to the bot­tom of what the de­mons are plot­ting. He dis­cov­ers, in his ab­sence, Naberius has hired the pre­dictably lovely, skinny blonde sci­en­tist Terra (Yvonne Stra­hovski) to du­pli­cate Frankenstein’s orig­i­nal ex­per­i­ments. Adam, his woman-killing days ev­i­dently be­hind him, in­ter­cepts Terra to let her know the corpse-re­viv­ing ex­per­i­ments she is con­duct­ing on be­half of a mys­te­ri­ous mega­lo­ma­niac may be, um, in­ad­vis­able. Adam pro­fesses dis­in­ter­est in the af­fairs of hu­mans, but Terra soft­ens him with the ob­ser­va­tion: “You’re only a mon­ster if you be­have like one.” Right. And you’re only a crappy movie if you look like one. I, Frankenstein looks more like a mo­tion comic book than a mo­tion pic­ture, es­pe­cially with its light-show bat­tle scenes be­tween gar­goyles and de­mons. When killed, gar­goyles “as­cend” heav­en­ward in a blue beam of light while de­mons “de­scend” down­ward in red flames, so ba­si­cally, it’s like a vi­o­lent rave. All the film’s cre­ative in­ge­nu­ity is ex­pended in its pro­duc­tion de­sign, which is, at times, im­pres­sive. Re­gret­tably, the tone of the piece is sat­u­rated with phoney-baloney grav­i­tas, and zero hu­mour, which tends to leach the fun out of it. The up­shot: Adam is not the only thing about this movie lack­ing a soul. To put it another way: It’s not alive! It’s not alive!

LION­S­GATE

Can’t... reach... TV re­mote!: Eck­hart looks more like a male model who’s been the re­cip­i­ent of a botched facelift than the crudely dis­pro­por­tional beast of Mary Shel­ley’s fic­tion.

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