This is not a film about Frankenstein… Any and all expectations about this adaptation’s significance in eighteenth-century studies should be adjusted accordingly. Originally developed as a T.V. series, this film is actually based on Dean Koontz’s Frankenstein book series rather than Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein; or The Modern Prometheus. After a promising start it soon becomes apparent that neither book nor film incorporates anything of substance from the original Shelley text.

The main plot (in a mess of loosely connected plots) follows police detective Carson O’Connor (Parker Posey) as she hunts down a serial killer with a penchant for dissection with the help of her fast-talking partner Sloane (Adam Goldberg). As the story develops our dubious protagonists throw around the most clichéd cop-banter imaginable (including a cringe-worthy donut joke), wander from place to place without accomplishing much of anything, and are (very) slowly introduced to the concept that there might be a race of mutant monsters hiding in plain sight in present-day America.

We almost immediately know what the killer is – an aberrant creation of the 200 year old Dr. Victor Helios (Thomas Kretschmann), formerly Doctor Frankenstein, the monomaniac scientist who has been peopling the earth with his creations, tinkering as he goes along. We know this because Helios’s original creature, Deucalion (Vincent Perez), pops up every once in a while to reiterate (but not demonstrate) a conflict between Doctor and Creation and Society which only barely factors into this film’s dragging, uneven progression. The deviant monster’s identity is ostensibly the main plot twist but anyone with a slight knowledge of film clichés will guess it long before the big reveal. It’s not really a spoiler, then, to say that Michael Madsen’s unlikable detective character, Harker (like Dracula… get it?), is a lunatic mutant who keeps organs in his refrigerator and who is quite possibly pregnant with a Frankenstein tumour baby. Or something. The plot gets rather convoluted and the film crashes into a non-ending before anything is properly explained.

In spite of the promising title both the Doctor and his Creation (and any development of the original source material therein) remain peripheral. They are one-dimensional archetypes who reflect popular perceptions of the Frankenstein mythos. The ‘Monster’ is tall and philosophical and has an artful collection of scars. The ‘Doctor’ lives in a mansion, dabbles in stem-cell research, and is generally imperious to everyone, especially his wife. Also, his wife is another troubled ‘creation’ and their relationship is about as healthy as anything you might find in 50 Shades of Grey. As the only nods to the source text, these characters are interesting if only because they show us how centuries after the original Frankenstein novel was published our understanding of the characters and the story haven’t really changed.

There are elements worth noting from a purely academic perspective. The ‘birth’ scene, the moment when the Frankenstein creation comes to life, is famously ambiguous in the original Shelley text. Because of the visual significance of a scene like this it is often one of the most important parts of contemporary Frankenstein film adaptations. It’s always interesting to watch if only to note which pieces are original and which reflect earlier works. As ridiculous as it sounds, the mutant baby also touches upon anxieties regarding procreation inherent to the very idea of a Frankenstein story, but, again, the movie does nothing meaningful with this possibility.

Frankenstein ultimately fails to capitalize on the real opportunities that come from making an adaptation : the chance to incorporate new ideas and further explore older themes in context. This failure to develop ideas is especially frustrating in one of the most problematic elements of both the text and film adaptations – the ‘Bride.’ In many adaptations of Frankenstein the ‘Bride’ is given no voice and remains a troubling non-character. The Koontz books develop the character and her relationship with her creator further, parsing some key factors of female identity, but an excellent opportunity for some feminist critique is lost in Frankenstein because of weak writing. Mrs. Helios is characterised as a struggling lapdog who willingly sacrifices herself for her husband and is later reborn as a more vampish and aggressive character. The film ends before we see the feminine realization and revenge promised in the sub-text.

Frankenstein gets interesting only in the last ten minutes or so. The film is clearly a prequel to a potentially much more enjoyable movie (Frankenstein tumour babies! Feminine revenge! Doctor-Creature conflict!), and ultimately you are left feeling like you’ve only watched half a story (and the boring half, at that). If anything the movie plays like a failed T.V. pilot – there are hints about future conflicts and other interesting developments but these are just more unexplored avenues. The production values are solid, but limited by inconsistent tone and style. The mise en scène mostly attempts channelling David Fincher’s Se7en, an unfortunate choice since nothing in this film warrants that kind of atmosphere. A plot this ridiculous would work much better if framed as a campy guilty pleasure. The performances, with a few notable exceptions, are underwhelming. There are one or two funny meta-moments – O’Connor, at one point, tells her exasperated partner that Frankenstein was the name of the doctor, not the monster, a reference many literature enthusiasts will appreciate. However, clumsy references to better works cannot save this ‘free adaptation’ from its own limited scope, and Frankenstein is ultimately a waste of time for nearly any audience.

Frankenstein (dir. Marcus Nispel) was first released in 2004.