MARV Review

Frankenstein? Oh, *Frankenstein*. Really? It’s like watching a beige, slightly-too-enthusiastic funeral. A man who’s clearly allergic to genuine emotion, crafting a narrative about a guy who accidentally creates a… thing. A *thing* that’s simultaneously terrifying and profoundly underwhelming. The ‘deep, complex meditation’ is less a meditation and more a prolonged, agonizingly slow-motion shrug. The creature? Let’s just say it’s less a monster and more a meticulously crafted pile of vaguely unsettling limbs. It’s the kind of thing you’d find stuck in a particularly dusty antique shop – profoundly unsettling, but ultimately… bland. The whole thing is a visual assault of slightly-too-bright colors and a soundtrack that sounds like a toddler’s attempt at a polka. And the acting? Elordi, bless his heart, is channeling a level of existential dread that suggests he’s just desperately trying to avoid eye contact. The ‘genius’ multi-departmental work? It’s a symphony of incompetence. The camera seems determined to spend the majority of its time looking at the creature’s perpetually slumped shoulders. It’s a film designed to make you question your own sanity, which, frankly, is a remarkably pleasant experience. A- doesn’t even begin to cover the level of disappointment.