Mary Shelley's Frankenstein

In the interest of full disclosure, I should say that I've never seen the entire movie. I lasted about on hour or so (maybe a little longer) before the limit of my tolerance was reached.

What was wrong with this movie? Kenneth Branagh, ham though he may be, was decent enough in this movie. The exact same goes for Robert DeNiro, who got to ham it up a lot while wearing lots of monster makeup. John Cleese was surprisingly good as a medical professor. Helena Bonham Carter is always easy on the eyes. The sets, the costumes, the cinematography, the story, all good.

What really wrecked this movie was its ham-fisted direction. Branagh the Director is infatuated with Branagh the Actor, and seems to work only to highlight to best effect the object of his admiration. This only serves to make Branagh the Actor look particularly hammy and over the top. I could feel my face flush with embarrassment as I watch this disgusting display of narcissism.

Kenny boy, if you're reading this, may I make a suggestion? Next time you want to make another adaptation of a Shakespeare play, or a Gothic novel, please consider handing over the directorial reins to someone else who can approach the overarching talent of Branagh the Actor with a little more, uh.... detachment.

Think about it, won't you? Thank you.