Deep Freeze

A loving family says farewell to its honoured grandpa one sad day, who had spent his life in traditional service to that same unit et au travail.

Hoping to one day meet again, they hire a new service to preserve his body, in new age cryogenic slumber until such a time as he can be reanimated. 

Things go well at the farsighted business as hundreds of wealthy people eagerly seek, newfound life in another epoch on down the road with their illness cured.

Family life returns to normal the humble father still working at the library, the mother making ends meritoriously meet, as a Grade 5 teacher, the children getting along.

Just as a brilliant yet mad disciplined scientist sets out to create an undead army, of somnambulistic unfrozen supermen steadfast and loyal to his every word.

He's developed a universal preservative which athletically reanimates frozen tissue, while making it susceptible to suggestion such as let's rule the entire world.

Working as a modest janitor he infiltrates the cryogenic facility, and continuously waits with diligent patience for the right moment to create his army.

As luck would have it, one carefree evening his fellow workers sit down to play, a heated game of Texas Hold 'Em with humble stakes and heartfelt empathy.

He makes sure to go all in early on so he'll get knocked out.

The slumbering automatons unconsciously awaiting.

His insane authoritative commands. 

*What would you do if you had your own army of reanimated Übermensch, son?

**First, I'd see if they could play hockey. Then, if they were athletically gifted, I'd make my own team and compete in the playoffs.

*What if they weren't that athletic?

**I might establish my own business. If they were skilled negotiators, we could make some serious money.

*Do you think harnessing the power of the undead would give you an unfair commercial advantage?

**Are you being facetious?

*Not intentionally. I suppose it's taken for granted that you wouldn't try to conquer the known universe?

**Why would I? It's already been done in the film!

*Crazy family reunion I'd say.

**That was an awkward Thanksgiving. 

Frankenstein

Once again, literate compassion for the soulful and tender reanimated beast, stitched together reconstituted to forever cheat vainglorious mortality.

When left alone far off and sheltered his innate world-weary warm-heart shines through, his resplendent inner-beauty impeccably beaming with forthright enriching illuminated humanism.

Such a shame that fleeting appearances mean so so so much in the eyes of so many, when countless wise and spiritual educators proactively rationalize the sheer illusion.

At times, it applies both ways to sights pleasant or disagreeable to the eye, both generally distasteful to tenacious treatises and their orthodox criticisms of aesthetics and disconcertment. 

But acting without concern for the inherent nature of unalterable characteristics, leads to much more pleasant thoughtful dialogue in terms of multivariable individual expression.

Through the mass cultivation of the many the reliance on appearance wholeheartedly fades, and sprightly exclamatory universals collectively diversify through latent whimsy.

Thus the blind inclinations which recklessly lead towards herd classifications, relatively loosen their stubborn prejudices and once again nurture the youthful life.

But Frankenstein's creation is herded and ruthlessly attacked through no fault of his own, and then elaborately made to suffer for having striven to defend himself.

That was what struck me from the novel anyways as I imagine I've mentioned before, the poor isolated creature alone and scared secretly monitoring the woodland family.

Completely unaware of his strength and innocently oblivious to old world hatreds, still faintly hoping to engage in conversation to not have to dwell forsaken in shadow.

That's always been the story for me not the depressing antagonistic aftermath. 

Which The Dodo challenges every day. 

Through the heartwarming preservation of life. 

Bride of Frankenstein

People continue to misunderstand Frankenstein's (Boris Karloff) harmless peaceful ambitions, and set out to thoroughly destroy him with distraught malevolent intent.

He's somewhat confused by the grandiose distress and realizes he must avoid the village, hiding out in the surrounding forest where he longs for inclusivity. 

Life's life and who's to challenge what lives if it co-exists with equanimity, securing an active balanced role within Earth's multidimensional nexus.

Frankenstein understands this and strives to harmoniously make friends, but fear and aesthetic prejudice lead to inhospitable conflict.

Meanwhile, another scientist takes wholesome pity on the troubled lad (Ernest Thesiger as Dr. Pretorius), and theorizes that traditional heteronormative constructs may lead to acculturation.

He enlists the reluctant aid of Frankenstein's industrious forefather (Colin Clive as Henry Frankenstein), and sets about creating a mate to appease tumultuous chaotic bearings.

Frankenstein seems somewhat relieved by the altruistic acclamation, having only known disarray since having been shockingly brought to life.

But there's no telling what will happen if the experiment's a success.

Conjugal communal courtly cohesion.

But what if she rejects him?

Few sequels disproportionately proceed with such ineffable progressive momentum, enticingly accelerating with riveting resonance immaculately distilled otherworldly genesis.

Few horror films possess such paramount cultural inoculations, as instinctual bellicose folly is disemboweled with airtight empathy.

The classic scenes where Frankenstein meets the visually impaired violinist living alone in the woods, modest heartfelt honest exemplars of innocent curious tame compassion.

The inspired unchecked ebullience emphatically exclaimed through experimentation, as both doctors philosophically articulate bold corporeal determinations.

Will a future filled with androids be relatively harmless as Picard hopes, or will The Terminator's prophetic bedlam come to calamitously pass?

Does the answer lie within this daring tragic Bride of Frankenstein?

Can animate life for mercy's sake . . .

Also apply to friendly robots?

Hardcore Henry

Apocalyptic awakening, immediately thrust into omnipresent annihilation, or birth in a fascist realm, unable to speak, cyborg awareness, the necessity of inductively coming to terms with what that means as a legion of minions attempts to obliterate you, escape from the blimp, follow the bread crumbs, instinctively strategize each and every incendiary reaction, awestruck athleticism, magnanimous masquerade, keep bursting with blunt obstinacy, survive to Frankenstein your creator, smash crunch dash ditch, pernicious reflexivity, maniacally coming into being.

Too insane.

Too psycho.

The opening credits suggest Hardcore Henry's parodying James Bond and is therefore supposed to be comedic, but if that's the case, it's a sick sense of humour that doesn't particularly impress.

The film's like a video game, like Henry's your character and you're trying to frenetically fight your way to the end, the unnerving celebration of violence perhaps meant to critique blitzkrieg obsessions, found in many a video game, less pronounced in Bond, still there, James Bond.

I don't think that's the case though, the opening credits also festively revelling in graphic death, Hardcore Henry consequently seeming like an elevation of violence for violence's sake rather than a reticent vituperative censor.

The audience is Henry as he fights his way to the top, always following his point of view.

Compliments for trying something different, but whereas this technique worked in Son of Saul, perhaps here suggesting that focusing too strongly on individuality leaves you suffering under constant threat, it's disorienting in Hardcore Henry.

The quasi-novelty wore off after 5 minutes and I quickly grew tired of the obscured frenzied panic.

Jimmy (Sharlto Copley) and his avatars provide comic relief but they also die brutally every time they provide information, as James Bond's contacts often do.

Way too much violence without much of a point.

I like raw bohemian unconcerned films, when they're done well, but Hardcore Henry just seems to be exploiting subconscious malevolence, like cockfighting or racism.

It's too easy.

Rash thoughtless elevations.

Scripted chaos.

The Curse of Frankenstein

Dr. Victor Frankenstein (Peter Cushing) is at it again in Terence Fisher's The Curse of Frankenstein, a Hammer Films production. Having grown audacious after reanimating a small dog, the Doctor sets his sights on the construction of the perfect human being, to be made up of parts cut away from fitting lifeless specimens. His partner and former tutor Paul Krempe (Robert Urquhart) contends that his path can only lead to evil but Frankenstein refuses to heed his warning and proceeds unabated. But the local crop of corpses will not supply a top rate brain which leads Victor to wine and dine a revered scientist (Paul Hardtmuth as Professor Bernstein) before murdering him later on in the evening. Krempe discovers what he has done and in the ensuing struggle damages the sought after material. Is this what causes Frankenstein's creation to act childishly and violently or was it the fact that it was brought back to life in the first place that guaranteed its inability to cognitively function?

Having subverted the laws of nature.

Fisher's film doesn't answer this question but does provide those searching to see Peter Cushing play someone besides Grand Moff Tarkin with the chance to watch him at work early on in his career. His performance is convincing enough even though several scenes could have benefited from additional takes, and more crafty editing, and another round of dialogue adjustments, and a keener insight into the logical timing of key events which move the action along. But The Curse of Frankenstein isn't about editing and dialogue and presenting captivating enticing scenes. It's about shooting a readymade script in as little time as possible in order to capitalize on the product, reinvest, and do it all over again and again while cultivating a receptive audience and slowly learning to enhance your constructions as time steadily passes.

And spending most of the budget on the lab, wherein there are many pretty scientific instruments and bubbling beakers and frothing 'fermentations' and a Frankenstein (Christopher Lee).

Desperately seeking life.