Sometimes, when I watch a movie that’s either exceptionally good or terribly bad, I find myself at a loss for words due to the sheer volume of thoughts swirling in my mind. This is precisely the dilemma I faced when contemplating how to commence my critique of Zelda Williams’ “Lisa Frankenstein.” Right from the outset, this film misses the mark entirely, making it one of the most uninspiring cinematic experiences I’ve endured. The lackluster conception is evident from the beginning, and the absence of vitality throughout is truly astounding. One would expect that working on a full-length feature would naturally evoke a sense of enthusiasm that translates onto the screen. However, “Frankenstein” defies this assumption so convincingly that one might believe the task was akin to enduring a lifetime in a Russian gulag.
The misguided and lackadaisical nature of the film is so pronounced that I am inclined to suggest notifying the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences about this debacle and contemplating the retraction of the Oscar once awarded to writer Diablo Cody. The fact that “Frankenstein” emanates from the same mind behind “Juno,” “Jennifer’s Body,” and “Young Adult” is as mismatched as seeing Larry the Cable Guy at the MET Gala. Drawing elements from Cody’s previous works, Tim Burton’s creations, a hint of the Universal Horror genre, and a touch of Mary Shelley, the foundation appears solid. However, what is erected upon it is feeble, disjointed, and uninteresting.
Lisa (portrayed by Kathryn Newton), having witnessed her mother’s tragic demise at the hands of an axe murderer, is grappling with her trauma. Her withdrawal is understandable, but her affinity for loitering in an old, deserted cemetery is perplexing. She becomes captivated by the grave of a young man named “Frankenstein,” adorning it with decorations and offerings. One stormy evening, the grave is struck by lightning, reanimating the corpse (played by Cole Sprouse) within. The Creature encounters Lisa, who recognizes a kindred spirit in him and shelters him in her closet.
The comedic potential of concealing this putrid being from her oblivious father (Joe Chrest), indifferent stepmother (Carla Guigno), and well-intentioned stepsister (Liza Soberano) is immense but, like many aspects of the movie, it falls short. The film exudes a sense of listlessness; the performers seem to merely be going through the motions. The blame does not lie with the actors but rather with Williams. The visuals lack depth, and the overall tone and pace are tedious. A world abundant in gothic imagery is depicted with minimal imagination, resembling a nightmare viewed through the lens of Norman Rockwell.
Equally concerning is Williams’ inability to establish a darkly comedic ambiance. A series of murders and mutilations unfold as Lisa devises a plan to replace her reanimated companion’s vital organs one by one. While it’s challenging to portray such acts humorously, it can be achieved. However, in this instance, the deaths come across as heartless and, at times, unsettling—hardly the desired tone for a parody of 1980s teen romantic comedies.
Undoubtedly, Newton endeavors to breathe life into this lifeless feature, but even her efforts cannot salvage this confused jumble. Ultimately, the borrowed elements from various sources remain lifeless and unengaging.