Summary
Lord Byron, Dr. Polidori, Percy Shelley, his future wife Mary, and her half-sister Claire drink some laudanum, make the obligatory bet about writing a horror story, which, as we all know, led to the creation of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, then launch enthusiastically into a seance for the express purpose of calling into being their deepest fears. I cannot begin to imagine why anyone would want to do such a thing and the results are, predictably, unpleasant. They spend the rest of the movie confronting their most personal demons and attempting to return the monster they have created to the darkness from whence it came. This never really coalesces into what we in the biz like to call a "plot" but there are certainly some disturbing, creepy, and occasionally even titillating moments, interspersed amongst the moments of boredom, confusion, and pomposity.
Warning! Spoilers ahead!
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Barbara's Rant
I'm sorry, but I wanted a good, clear shot of the monster. I'm not saying that I don't understand that the monster was a very personal creation for each character, that its horror comes from the things it does and shows to its creators, not from its physical appearance and not from any physical harm that it inflicts. I enjoy a good tale of psychological torment as much as I enjoy a good tale about an oozing, mutant swamp monster, but if there is, in fact, some sort of physical monster (as there clearly was in this movie), I expect to at least get one good look at it before the end. You wouldn't be content with the Phantom of the Opera if you didn't get a glimpse behind the phantom's mask, would you? No, neither would I. Show me the monster!
There's also something a VH1 Behind the Music feel to this movie - rich, famous people struggle with drug addiction and whine about how tough it is to be rich and famous. Boo-hoo. I hate VH1 Behind the Music. Why must creativity so often be linked to a hazy, disillusioned, discontent?
Also, did anyone else find the tour group at the beginning and end of the movie extremely unnecessary and out of place?
To end this rant on a positive note (I wouldn't anyone to accuse me of whining. [I know there's no way anyone could accuse me of being rich, famous, or addicted to anything except horror movies, crossword puzzles, and canned mandarin orange slices. (I'm recovering from my Tetris addiction quite nicely, thank you.)]) I did enjoy the abrupt and ambiguous ending, which is a difficult thing for a movie to pull off convincingly. How much of what we saw really happened? Maybe all; maybe none. Does the monster really exist, or was he merely a laudanum-guilt-and-fear-induced hallucination? In the daylight, can we ever really be sure of the things we saw (or said or thought or did) in the dark hours of the night? Would we really want to be?
BARBARA JO
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