I, Frankenstein: A Dreadful Concoction of an EasyMac Movie

As the credits to Stuart Beatle’s I, Frankenstein rolled off the screen and the lights came on and the theater usher with a broom in his hand glared in equal amounts of hatred and astonishment at the amount of popcorn debris strewn all about me, I sat in my chair completely dumbfounded.

I mean, how am I supposed to tell people in an interesting way that a movie everyone thought would suck, did indeed suck?

It wasn’t until my stomach began to growl with hunger later in that day, and I went to the kitchen in search for food. My fridge was a frozen tundra of a barren wasteland, nothing in there but a week old bag of kale. I turned to the pantry, hoping there may be some tasty sweets left inside from the holidays. Worst case scenario maybe some plain peanut butter. But, alas, when I opened the door to see what leftover treasure may await me, there was only one item staring me back in my face.

The answer: Kraft EasyMac.

Macaroni and cheese will always be one of life’s simple pleasures. It has cheese, and everyone loves cheese. And it has noodles, which while they aren’t the most tasty item for consumption on their own, they are filling, cheap, and excellent at absorbing things that are tasty, like tomato sauces or, for our metaphor, cheese sauces.

I, Frankenstein has the noodles in its star Aaron Eckhart (and his new set of abs). There are a whole range of movies, Thank You for Smoking, No Reservations, and Erin Brokovich to name a few, that prove Aaron can soak in the cheese-y goodness. And the flick’s got a good cheese topping too, in its new take on the old Frankenstein which finally puts that super human strength to good use. It even has a little extra hot sauce thrown on top in Aryan Goddess Queen, Yvonne Strahovski.

But if mac and cheese is one of life’s simple pleasures, then Kraft EasyMac is one of poor people’s simple pleasures. And so is I, Frankenstein.

The story is made with no care or consistency, like Kraft’s powdered cheese. The director adds too much water, diluting the flavor and making it too liquid-y for the noodles to absorb. The noodles themselves aren’t cooked long enough.  Its almost as if Eckhart strolled onto the set, met the director, was given a bag of cash, and then shooting started. His performance crunches when you bite in to it, and taste almost plastic-y, like it’s a fake noodle. And if Yvonne is the hot sauce I usually add to my Easy Mac, then she’s Tabasco sauce, which tastes just like a can of gas drank a can of nuclear waste and got diarrhea.

I, EasyFrank opens where the other Frankenstein storylines conclude, with Dr. Frankenstein’s death. And it is precisely this moment when the movie takes a turn for the worse. Enter demons, whose CGI transitions from normal looking Twilight Characters to zombie vampires to lizard people remind me of a half decent Power Rangers special effect, that want to capture Frank so they can copy Dr. Frankenstein’s recipe of creating life and make some Frankencheese of their own. Now enter FREAKING GARGOYLES, and no I’m not making this up, who are just posted up in some random village minding their own bees when they accidentally witness this demon attack on Frankenabs and come to his rescue. What ensues is just one big mess of a microwavable fake cheese casserole designed for one purpose: As a platform to have a tough antihero character brooding into a camera, while saying and doing tough guy things, regardless of whether the things he says or does actually make sense within the scope of the movie.

It’s like the writer, also Stuart Beattie, wanted some EasyMac one night dumped the contents into a bowl, threw the instructions out, and boiled the cheese and noodles in vinegar. Not only does this story have a hard time following Frankenstein canon, it also has a hard time following its own created canon, and the character’s decisions make so little sense throughout the story that you almost wonder if there was a completely different writer for every scene. Coherent plot and character development matter not as long as each scene ends with Frankenstein saying or doing something cool, and usually both.

The whole ordeal reminds me of college when my roommates and I would stumble home drunk and try to make a meal. We’d all decide on something to make and throw it all together. There was little to no communication. The meals we would create would have been considered abominations to even Chef Boy R D. And I’m sure Chef Boy R D would hate I, Frankencheese.