I, Frankenstein

Turning in a scathing review of I, Frankenstein would be like kicking a puppy. A lost, confused puppy sewn together from the stolen body parts of other, similar puppies and given life for a purpose that's not immediately apparent, sure, but a puppy nonetheless.

Frankenstein's monster (Aaron Eckhart, seriously) is our brooding, reluctant hero who gets dragged into a centuries-old war between the the forces of evil (demons) and the forces of good (gargoyles that can turn into people and then back into gargoyles). The baddies want to capture him because he's the key to their plans. The goodies want to capture him because this film is a confused mess. Just go with it.

Our modern Brometheus spends most of the film sprinting from one CGI-overlaid battle to the next, manfully keeping a straight face while those around him struggle to deliver lines like “I am Queen of the Gargoyle Order” without cracking up. The dialogue is truly abysmal, and only Demon Prince Bill Nighy seems to have any fun with it, hitting the proper camp notes with just the right amount of restraint. Most of the supporting cast looks faintly embarrassed to be involved, and it's hard to blame them.

At its best, I, Frankenstein recalls elements of Night Watch: some good work has gone into the sets and visual styling. At its worst it's Van Helsing meets Blade, stumbling around in one of Underworld's old cast-off trenchcoats. It may have left a steaming mess on the rug, but just look at those big eyes, that adorable cleft chin. You wouldn't kick a puppy, would you?