We revisit Kenneth Branagh’s operatic adaptation of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, a film due critical reappraisal…
So beginsMary Shelleys Frankenstein, Kenneth Branaghs bold, brash, semi-operatic love letter to Gothic horror.
It is due a great critical reconsideration.
With the Shelley quote above, Branagh here makes a valiant attempt to be different by being similar.
After all, Shelleys literary masterpiece is not short of cinematic adaptations.
One issue of note is Branagh himself.
Yet to people who have followed him more closely he was previously destined for much greater recognition.
One reason is his love of genre cinema, which has had mixed results for him.
The film could easily have suited those needs, and put the focus squarely on him.
Like the hinges on Pandoras Box, it is the structure for the chaos let out from the projector.
This is one of the many redemptive features of this delightful mess of a movie.
It achieves this in an almost knowing way.
It is, overall, the most penetratingly loud score I can remember.
If the film matched its ideals it would be a modern day masterpiece.
It attempts to balance all these ultimately conflicting ideals.
The dialogue thus comes across as shaky.
Not to mention its pounding score.
However, those who prized narrative in a way such as Tarantino or Darabont were a rarity.
Branagh creates visually arresting sequences, and episodic moments of great drama.
On the one hand it is an incoherent cluster of ideas.
I feel inclined to forgive a film for attempting so much in such a constrained running time.
Every concept is hit and miss in its execution.
Though with each criticism I make, I am reminded of its atoning features.
The last and most important to name is the performance of the stellar cast that accompanies it.
Often big casts with such an array of notable names tend to have the ability to underwhelm.
They are casting choices that complement the film.
John Cleese, in particular, stands out as the harbinger of human mortality and our very own limitations.
Frankensteins tutor has seldom been so gruff, yet so three-dimensional, and so memorable.
Robert De Niro works well to breathe real humanity but also fearsome vengeance and bitterness into the Frankenstein creature.
All rests, however, on Branagh, and his robust thespian performance which is solid.
Not spectacular, but his moments of regret or sorrow offer the only quiet relief in the film.
This film is all over the place but is all the more enjoyable for it.
