I, FRANKENSTEIN

Following the death of his creator, the Frankenstein Monster decides to transport the corpse from the polar ice to Northern Europe to give him a proper burial. But just as he is trying to dig a grave for his "father," the Monster is intercepted by a group of demons who want to take possession of Victor Frankenstein's diary. A time jump of nearly two centuries and we find the Monster, now renamed Adam, fighting demons, led by Naberius, alongside the Gargoyles who want to prevent the forces of evil from ruling the Earth. Naberius, in fact, has a plan: to create an army of the undead. And to succeed in his endeavor, he needs Frankenstein's diary to uncover the secret of resurrection. It was 1818 when "The Modern Prometheus," or "Frankenstein," as it later became known, the debut novel of a nineteen-year-old Mary Shelley, was published for the first time. It was born almost as a game during a stormy weekend, as effectively narrated in Ken Russell's film "Gothic." It was instead 1931 when James Whale directed with great inspiration the Universal masterpiece "Frankenstein" with a stunning Boris Karloff in the role of the Monster, forever conditioning the iconic graphic representation of the Creature. The story of Frankenstein, therefore, is an immortal tale that lies at the foundation of the Gothic/horror narrative, reused and reworked in all forms, from the comedy of "The Brain of Frankenstein" and "Frankenstein Junior," to the weird/science fiction of "Frankenstein Conquers the World." But today, a new and further variation on the theme arrives in grand style, titled "I, Frankenstein" and signed by Australian Stuart Beattie, already the author of the flop "Tomorrow, When the War Began." Forget everything you know about the Creature of Frankenstein and all the good that has been done over the years to make this character an icon of the horror imagination. Tabula rasa, please. Because with "I, Frankenstein" we are asked with a bit of arrogance to accept a character and a story that clash in a far too aggressive manner with what is part of our cultural baggage. The Monster of Frankenstein, precisely because it is a "monster," is a repulsive and grotesque creature, a reanimated cadaver synthesis of various parts of other dead bodies sewn together? Well, rather badly. Here, the "monster" of Frankenstein is a hunk with the likeness of Aaron Eckhart, muscular and buff, not shying away from showing his abs at every opportunity, and to justify his status as a "monster," they have given him a pair of scars on his face and body that make him even more macho. Something already smells burnt, right? Having dismissed the connection to the story we all know in a prologue that nevertheless doesn't promise anything bad, the fantasyless delusions begin, telling the usual internal war between Good and Evil that takes place on Earth and of which humans are unaware. Evil is represented by demons who have human features, industrialists and businessmen in suits and ties, and when they reveal themselves, they have ridiculous Halloween masks that remind one of the low-budget demons that have filled and continue to fill television screens in fantasy/horror series like "Buffy," "Charmed," or "Supernatural." Among the ranks of the good, there are instead the Gargoyles, the stone monsters that adorn European Gothic constructions, which here are a sort of paradisiacal guardians of archangelic matrix that also have human and, when necessary, monstrous features, and are gathered in a monarchical hierarchy led by the Queen of the Gargoyles Miranda Otto. In short, we understand each other, right? "I, Frankenstein" is a film born of the generation of modern superhero films, mixed with those ultra-dark atmospheres of products like "Underworld" (and indeed, the producers and one of the screenwriters are the same as Len Wiseman's film) and stuffed with an ultra-pop and faux-classic aesthetic like "Van Helsing." But the problem is that "I, Frankenstein" manages to capture the worst from all the products it is influenced by, showing itself as a film devoid of any narrative-aesthetic originality, eager to overdo it with mediocre special effects and boring in its lack of a story capable of engaging the viewer. Free from any artistic personality, "I, Frankenstein" is the classic use-and-throw-away film that is easily forgotten right after watching it, and the cast, particularly mismatched, does not contribute to the memory either. We can gloss over Arron Eckhart, as he is out of place and frankly ridiculous at the thought that he is called Frankenstein (or rather Adam Frankenstein, which is more macho and youthful), Bill Nighy plays the villain Naberius with autopilot, who is nothing more than the same identical character he played in "Underworld," Mirando Otto is the one who tries the most and probably had "The Lord of the Rings" in mind when preparing for this role, then there's also Jai Courtney, who, if you take away the role of the thug he had as McClane Jr. in "Die Hard – A Good Day to Die Hard," shows only his caginess. Oh, and there's a curious fact to consider. "I, Frankenstein" is the adaptation of a namesake graphic novel by Kevin Grevioux. The author of the comic is the screenwriter, producer, and actor of the film as well (he is the black guy who here plays the bodyguard of Naberius and played the Lycan in "Underworld"), but with a move that is not easy to interpret, this film has absolutely nothing to do with the paper work. The comic featured a Frankenstein Monster (who was a real monster and had Karloff-like features) turned private detective in a 1940s-style metropolis dealing with murder cases centered on vampiric bloodletting. And there are other classic monsters, from the Hunchback of Notre-Dame to the Invisible Man, passing dutifully through Dracula. It could have been fun...