Frankenstein Reimagined: The Curious Case of Lisa and Her Perfectly Imperfect Creature

Ah, Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. It’s a classic, isn't it? A foundational text for horror, a philosophical deep dive into creation and responsibility, something that has echoed through literature and film for, well, centuries now. And honestly, every so often, Hollywood just can’t resist taking another stab at it. But what happens when that 'stab' isn't quite a direct hit, but more of a whimsical, neon-tinged dance? That’s where Lisa Frankenstein comes in, and oh, it’s a curious beast indeed.

Directed by Zelda Williams, this new film isn’t, let’s be clear, your grandfather’s monster movie. Or even your great-grandmother's, for that matter. It's set in the vibrant, somewhat gaudy, 1980s, casting Kathryn Newton as Lisa Swallows—a lonely, misunderstood teenager—and Cole Sprouse as her reanimated, wordless beau, the Creature. The premise itself hints at a departure: a high school goth girl, a tanning bed, a lightning strike, and a patchwork suitor. You could say it’s less about man playing God, and more about a girl finding connection in the most unconventional of places, or perhaps, crafting it herself.

So, the big question, the one everyone seems to be asking: just how close is Lisa Frankenstein to the book? In truth, it’s not really close at all, if we’re talking about a faithful adaptation. And yet, that's precisely the point, isn't it? This isn’t an adaptation; it's a bold, perhaps even audacious, reimagining. Think less academic dissection and more playful, gothic-romantic fan fiction brought to the big screen. Shelley’s novel is a chilling meditation on ambition, isolation, and the terrifying consequences of scientific hubris. Lisa Frankenstein, by contrast, leans hard into dark comedy, a certain whimsical romance, and the quirky charm of its 80s aesthetic.

The differences, as you might expect, are pretty stark. For one, the creator in Shelley’s novel is a man, Victor Frankenstein, consumed by intellect and ultimately, despair. Here, it’s Lisa, a young woman grappling with grief and a feeling of being an outcast. Her 'creation' isn't a horrific scientific experiment meant to push the boundaries of life, but rather, a rather charming, if decaying, young man from the Victorian era whom she inadvertently resurrects and then, shall we say, 'upgrades' with various body parts. The creature himself, Shelley’s eloquent, tormented being, is here a mostly silent, sympathetic figure, yearning for, well, parts to become whole, and crucially, to be loved by Lisa.

But amidst all this neon and 80s synth, is there any echo of the original’s heart? Surprisingly, yes, there are thematic tendrils that stretch back to Shelley’s profound narrative. Both stories, in their own unique ways, grapple with loneliness, the desperate human need for connection, and the pain of being an outsider. Shelley’s Creature is shunned by society for his appearance; Lisa, too, feels profoundly alone in her suburban world. They both find solace, of a sort, in each other, even if one bond is philosophical and tragic, and the other, a delightfully macabre romance. The film understands the spirit of the outcast, the desire to belong, and the lengths one might go to find someone who sees them, imperfections and all.

Ultimately, Lisa Frankenstein stands as its own quirky entity, a gothic rom-com that borrows the idea of a reanimated monster but crafts an entirely new story around it. It's less a faithful retelling and more a loving, if slightly askew, homage. You won't find the same existential dread or moral quandaries that kept Shelley's Victor awake at night. Instead, you'll discover a film that, for once, isn't afraid to have a little fun with its horror, offering a fresh, and rather sweet, take on what it means to create, to connect, and perhaps, to find love in the most unusual of circumstances. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the best way to honor a classic is to bravely make something new.