Frankenstein's creature finds himself caught in an all-out, centuries old war between two immortal clans.
Back to the drawing board for the mad scientists who cobbled this together. Five parts bad to one part camp nonsense.
Eckhart goes for broke as the tortured soul, but only Bill Nighy, as a demonic tycoon, has any real fun.
I, Frankenstein is very much of the Resident Evil/Underworld school of filmmaking, which assumes that if you throw enough action at the screen the audience will forget you didn't actually include a plot.
Passable effects, but the storytelling's botched from the title onwards: shouldn't it be I, Frankenstein's Monster?
This version of the classic tale – adapted from a graphic novel – resembles a bad video game.
Despite Eckhart’s buffness, the creature remains a compendium of corpse parts. The same goes for Stuart Beattie’s derivative flick.
General release. Check local listings for show times.