Frankenstein's Daughter 2008 Horror Movie Review

Plan 9 from Outer Space was an Oscar-winning performance compared to this dread of Hollywood. Actually, I’m a gigantic fan of “Plan 9” but I could find nothing whatever here to whet my usual fancy for almost all of the older black-and-white horror films.


From the opening credits, (which was reminiscent of some minor reprobate holding a cheesily scribed piece of poster board because it sort of “moves around”), I sensed that this one wasn’t going to make my Hit Parade. Then in the very first scene, the viewer is hilariously treated to a gal (who was ugly enough prior to make-up) who’s wearing a pair of those paraffin buck teeth that we use to buy at the candy store back in the 50s for a nickel, punctuated with the furry eyebrows of mouse-hair rivaling those of Martin Scorcese on a bad hair day.


The devastating uppercut came with a performance by Page Cavanaugh and His Trio, which the director clearly viewed as a big plus for his film. I’m inclined to not share his enthusiasm for that threesome of un-renowned musical geeks.


I realize that this is “troubled youth in the ‘50s Drive-in” fare, and the movie should be viewed tongue-in-cheek… but an aardvark doesn’t have enough tongue for this one. Of course it features bad acting, a moronic script, marginal camera work, and all the rest. But that’s not why I especially hated it.


Here’s what you will not find in this film: no crumbling European castles, no creepy organ music, no great sizzling electronic gewgaws, and so on. In other words, this one departs heavily from all the other Frankenstein films, (except maybe for Frankenstein Meets the Space Monster, yet another deplorable movie experience.)


The only redeeming purpose I could think of for this film was if you were going to get together with a bunch of guys (noxious enemies?) on a Saturday afternoon and throw a “smashed on Mad Dog 20-20 bad film party.” For that specific application, this one is certain to shine as a feature. I thought I had spotted a big name at first in the credits but upon re-reviewing them, I found that it was Harold Lloyd, Jr. and not (I’m assuming here) his renowned daddy. Had Harold Lloyd done this one, he’d have been about 66 years old (the venerable old actor didn’t give up the ghost until ‘71!) and he still would have doubly outshone anyone found in this clunker.


While I typically award 4- and 5- stars to the many older horror films which I’ve reviewed, I felt compelled to alert all my fellow fans of the genre to the un-superbness of this dubious waste of 85 minutes plus however much you might have paid for the DVD.


Spare yourself.