Friendship is making someone else suffer through the exact same shit you have to just-be-fucking-cause and that’s exactly why Hawk Ripjaw and I are bringing you the first-ever Felix-Ripjaw Debate Presents: I, Frankenstein. Because if I’m gonna get blackout drunk and make some bad decisions (like getting lifetime banned from a Jamba Juice for “dry humping the cash register while scream-singing Hakuna Matata” ALLEGEDLY… There’s no one else I’d call to bail me out of jail than Hawk) then I’m doing it with the only other person stupid enough to do it, too. So pop open that Zima we both know you’re shame-hiding behind leftover pizza in the fridge and let’s get cracking on this Lindsay Lohan, I mean Miley Cyrus, I mean trainwreck, I mean epic shitastrophy of a film.
I, Frankenstein follows the conception, birth, and not-so-life of Frankenstein’s monster, Adam (possibly the only person with more daddy issues than me), as he gets caught up in a war between heaven and hell for the ultimate fate of humanizzzz- What? Sorry. My selective narcolepsy kicks in whenever I’m about to be bored to death. But I digress. Adam waffles between broody bouts of defiance, and even broodier bouts of surly anti-hero-with-a-heart acts of altruism, as he struggles to find his purpose in this crazy world of crazyness after centuries of solid Castaway isolation. Will he ever be redeemed by the luuurve of a good woman? Will Adam ever find a change of clothes, seriously, has no one heard of The Gap in this movie? Will we ever settle the Ninjas vs Zombies debate?
She Said: Nobody stabbed me before, during, or after watching this so, you know, the movie had that going for it.
He Said: SOMEBODY CALL A FUCKING AMBULANCE, PLEASE HELP ME I’M BLEEDING.
She Said: Also, there was, through what I can only imagine was a severe case of the Taco Bell Shits, Aaron Eckhart valiantly trying to bring to *puts on sunglasses* life the undead bastard baby of Keanu Reeves and Nicholas Cage. I haven’t seen this much angst and pathos flying around since Underworld, or any Twilight movie ever made, or my sister’s wedding when I “accidentally” tripped and landed face-first on all the groomsmen.
He Said: The difference between “groomsmen” and “groomsman” is the difference between an orgy joke and a giant dick joke.
She Said: If my sister’s reading this: It’s not my fault… Vodka made me do it. She gone? *self-five* Nice save!
She Said: There was, to I, Frankenstein’s credit, a moment of actual, genuine, humor that snuck in amongst the dead-pan drama and stilted dialogue and it involved one of the greatest uses of “Oh, shit.” I’ve ever seen.
He Said: My favorite joke was when they gave Special Thanks to Mary Shelley in the credits.
She Said: Not to mention Aaron Eckhart’s rock-hard abs, so chiseled you could cut diamonds and the finest cocaine on those bad boys. It was hands-down (my pants) the best thirty seconds of the film.
He Said: Yeah, I got a pretty noteworthy erection during that part.
She Said: Much like letting Courtney Love perform brain surgery, I, Frankenstein never had a snowball’s chance in Ann Coulter’s vagina of being anything other than a colossal fuck-up. But hey, congrats on putting on underwear today, everyone.
He Said: I also have to applaud the movie for not making the characters get it on after the obligatory “dress his wounds and have the monster talk.” You know the one: She’s like “you’re only a monster if you behave like one,” and he’s like “… IN BED!” And then they laugh, and then they bang.
She Said: Oh, I, Frankenstein, how do I loathe thee? Let me count the ways. After watching this, I can only assume that the filmmakers conceived this hell spawn whilst listening to Rebecca Black’s “Friday”, lighting kittens on fire and junk-punching old people all the while taking a massive, giant, insanely large dump on Mary Shelley’s grave.
He Said: To be fair, there aren’t a great deal of cognitive reserves available when you’re doing all of those things at the same time.
She Said: There’s no way anyone (with higher-functioning brain cells) that looked at I, Frankenstein’s script, and hadn’t sold their soul to the devil, would be on board with this shitshow.
He Said: I can just picture the board meeting now: “Frankenstein’s monster, in an urban setting and he knows kung fu! SHUT UP AND TAKE MY MONEY!”
She Said: I, Frankenstein was a patently uninspired, shallow, soulless, 3D CGI fuckfest of banality and trite bullshit. If there was any originality anywhere in this waste of consciousness (next time I’m going to just pay someone to lock me in a room and play Carly Rae Jepsen on repeat) then it was roofied at the Wolf of Wall Street party and dragged into I, Frankenstein by mistake.
She Said: Imagine a world in which retarded monkeys, strapped to typewriters, having grand-mal seizures as Ye Olde Victorian English is pumped into a room full of feces, vomit stale, stilted, dialogue all over your face.
He Said: Okay… Done.
She Said: Curled into the fetal position yet? No?
He Said: All that’s missing is “ex-girlfriend all over my face.”
She Said: Stick with me then. The only way the dialogue in I, Frankenstein could have been worse is if they let Paris Hilton ghostwrite it, and I’d say that they let her except I’m not sure she knows words that big.
She Said: Here are few of the gems that I’m 95% certain were copy and pasted from the How To Make A Motherfucker Give Up On Life In Ninety Minutes Or Less handbook:
He Said: (Written by Bordan Jelfort, the Bizarro world version of you-know-who) .
“I care not for the world of man.” –Adam
“I go my own way.” –Adam
“I know of no other way, I am not human, nor gargoyle, nor demon… I am like none other.” -Adam
Give up on life yet? Keep reading.
“I’m a monster.” –Adam
“You’re only a monster if you behave like one.” -Terra
Take a break from crying and read this last one.
“God will surely damn you.” –Gideon
“He already has.” -Adam
He Said: I’d also like to point out that that last exchange was hosted by Jai Courtney (A Good Day to Die Hard, Jack Reacher), who has never spoken a not-stupid line of dialogue in his entire career. Rumor has it he was almost in an Adam Sandler movie, but Sandler “has his limits” according to sources.
She Said: Now imagine every one of those lines delivered straight from the Partial Facial Paralysis Keanu Reeves/Nicholas Cage School Of Acting and you’ll be halfway to the kind of asshattery Hawk and I had to sit through, Boozers.
She Said: 3D is the herpes of cinema. Everybody’s having a grand old time at the gangbang and then you wake up three weeks later chained to a radiator in some dude’s basement with oozy bits and regrets no amount of penicillin can fix. Allegedly. Writing for a friend.
He Said: Thanks for the cover there, buddy.
She Said: Most of the time it’s the Taylor Swift of film (read: irrelevant) and benign, not adding to, or taking away from, the movie. Rarely, like Avatar, it’s a stunning use of technology that brings to life a breathtaking vision, and then (also rarely) there’s the Texas Chainsaw Massacre 3D phenomenon, where, and it’s possible, it makes the already shitastic explosion of fecal fuckwittery even worse.
He Said: Indeed, the fact that there was only one fucking 2D showing so late at night it would be like waking up EARLIER IN THE FUCKING DAY THAN YOU WENT TO SLEEP I’M SORRY THE 3D SCRAMBLED MY BRAIN.
She Said: I, Frankenstein falls into the irrelevant pool and drowns in the money you could’ve spent on laser hair removal (yeah, I’m looking at you Mustachioed Lunch Lady) and instead threw at this sad excuse for entertainment. Save your cash, Boozers, and splurge on that sassy leather onesie you’ve been eyeballing on QVC.
He Said: Having never heard of QVC, Googling that was definitely my Risky Internet Action of the Day.
She Said: There was nothing redeemable about the use of this medium in I, Frankenstein (and it smacks of raging, empty consumerism) so, you know, GO AMURRICA.
She Said: Unless you’re Morgan Freeman narrating penguin shit or Samuel L. Jackson narrating my vagina, get the hell up out this bitch you voiceover enthusiast assholes from hell.
He Said: But he said the title of the movie at one point! SO NOIR.
She Said: If 3D is the herpes of cinema, narration is the crutch. Yeah, there are legitimate uses for this tool, but the only tool being used in I, Frankenstein was Bill Nighy’s douchey Naberius tossing British constipation face all over the place.
He Said: Bill Nighy was the prince of something in this movie, and it wasn’t demons (hint: it was the prince of giving a performance worse than what I give when I pretend I’m interested in a story being told to me).
She Said: This sad, masturbating clown of a film was stitched together (much like it’s lead character) using overly dramatic, pathos-laden exposition… So, basically anything that’s ever come out of a Kardashian’s mouth.
He Said: There’s a “spit or swallow” joke in there somewhere.
She Said: In addition to that, the pacing in I, Frankenstein was a little slower than convincing a hooker to go bareback and slightly faster than convincing her to do it for free; so it hit right in that sweet spot of JUST FUCKING GET ON WITH IT.
He Said: Sounds like what I tell my dick every night.
She Said: Considering the running time was a brisk 93 minutes, this was quite the epic accomplishment in what-the-fuck-itude. Not to mention the stellar waste of legitimate talent on wooden characters and blatant Underworld overtones. Paying a hobo who looks like my dad to hug me and tell me he loves me for an hour and a half would’ve been more rewarding than shitting, I mean sitting, I mean shitting through this blumpkin of bland.
She Said: I, Frankenstein was an over-stylized hot mess caught in a chokehold of stilted dialogue and wasted potential. No, not even the good kind of wasted. Two reanimated nipples way, way down.
He Said: Agreed. This movie was worse than the time I met a musician whose stage name was literally “Ar7 of War,” and he made a concentrated effort to emphasize the importance of the 7. They’re totally the same thing.
Take a Drink: anytime shit goes full-on Dragon Ball Z when demons get “descended” and/or gargoyles “ascend”.
Take a Drink: each time you hear a demon voice/see a demon or gargoyle transition. Bring an extra liver.
Do a Shot: if you think Bill Nighy’s acting suggests he’s trying too hard, or Chug your Drink: if you think he no longer gives a fuck.
Do a Shot: for each Underworld parallel, ex. Casting or floor vault, etc.
Take a Drink: every time Adam is about to cry.
Take a Sip: every time you hear “him, not it” and/or see the journal or Naberius.
Do a Shot: for every voiceover/narration.
Take a Drink: whenever someone swan dives through a window/crashes through a ceiling or wall.
Shotgun a Beer: for the final Showdown at the So-So Corral.