“I, Frankenstein. At Least It’s Not Van Helsing.”
That’s pretty weak praise, then again I, Frankenstein isn’t the strongest of movies.
No one through virtually the entire running time is at all certain if the Monster (Aaron Eckhart) has a soul–spoiler alert: He does–though I wish the same could be said for the movie itself, because underneath the often snazzy special effects, it’s pretty soulless.
I, Frankenstein is based on a graphic novel written by Kevin Grevioux–who also had a hand in writing Underworld as well, and if you swapped out the werewolves with gargoyles, and the demons with vampires, that’s the movie you’d end up with.
Still, it’s not terrible more than just uninspired. The movie revolves around Frankenstein’s Monster, who calls himself Adam–making his way in the world. He’s discovered by some gargoyles(?) that are empowered by angels though they’re somewhat morally ambiguous–at least toward Frankenstein–unlike their opponents, the demons, who happen to be hatching a scheme to use the knowledge that enabled Frankenstein to become animate (Knowledge that’s available in Dr. Frankenstein’s diary, which Adam conveniently carries with him everywhere. The movie never says that he couldn’t read, which I mention because he’s lived for over two hundred years, by which time he could have memorized the entire book without even trying) to enable the dead to become receptacles for fallen demons, a plot device eerily reminiscent of the process Dracula was using in Van Helsing bring his children to life (Huh? Since when can vampires reproduce? Kind of defeats the whole “biting on the neck thing,” doesn’t it? I know, I know. Focus).
Speaking of which, I, Frankenstein is better than that movie, though not by a lot. Luckily, it moves briskly and Eckhart does his job in an efficient, workman-like fashion, so at least there aren’t too many regrets.
I, Frankenstein is currently on Netflix.