Review: Lisa Frankenstein (2024)

Mary Shelley’s 1818 Frankenstein is queer as hell. Tons of smarter writers have tackled the trans and homoerotic themes in greater detail, but the premise just begs for decoding: a man becomes obsessed with creating life without the participation of a woman, and to do this he lovingly selects body parts and sets out to construct a perfect and “beautiful” specimen (but his sewing skills are weak and it comes out wonky, we’ve all been there). The creature is a man…and a monster (what queer can’t related to that?). Deeper cuts get into gay panic and possible romantic readings of Victor’s relationships with Henry Clerval and Captain Walton. 

So. I was very excited about the release of Lisa Frankenstein, from bisexual director Zelda Williams and queer-friendly screenwriter Diablo Cody (Jennifer’s Body, Juno). I’m still unpacking and will require a rewatch, because Cody always packs her stories with characters that chaotically explode across the screen and careen around in worlds with just enough resemblance to ours to make you look sideways at your neighbor and wonder what dark secrets they’re hiding. 

The premise here is simple: after her mother’s brutal murder, teen Lisa (Kathryn Newton) moves in with her bumbling father, her breathtakingly wretched stepmother (played note-perfect by Carla Gugino) and her surprisingly chill stepsister. She’s a social pariah who hangs out in graveyards, and after being assaulted at a party, she wishes upon a thunderstorm and lightning resurrects the man of her dreams to end her lonely nights. 

Only…the man of Lisa’s dreams is actually the douchebag editor of the high school literary magazine, and Lisa’s life just got a lot more complicated. What I was expecting to be something like a quirky and sweet romance à la Juno was WAY more gruesome and fun than I anticipated. The poor creature has some missing parts, and like any good friend, Lisa is there to help him become whole, and to get some revenge of her own while she’s at it. No one has ever come out of a tanning bed looking so good. 

The story takes some big swings, and many of them landed with the familiar combination of laughs and winces that I’ve had to Cody’s other films. She’s not afraid to let teens be as gross, horny, and stupid as they truly are, and the premise here begs for body humor that will make sensitive stomachs churn. But with all of the taboo-flirting (and taboo-shattering) the film is doing, there are real inflection points that ask big questions about the meaning of desire, of gender, of identity, and of moving forward.

An independent woman if I ever saw one.

Potentially controversial reading here, but the most unexpected and frankly delightful surprise was that I’m pretty sure this movie isn’t a romance at all, and I don’t think that was an accident. The film follows the 80s teen movie tropes, but every time it hits a big emotional moment – power ballad, first sexual contact – the scenes are all about Lisa coming into her power and confidence, not as part of a partnership but solo (literally, the first sex scene is her and her Hitachi Magic Wand – no assistance required to find her pleasure). And with the pressure of a romance off, their relationship is really interesting and atypical. Emotional, yes. Sexual, yes. But not romantic. Not on her end.

Lisa’s character arc comes to beautiful fruition when she confronts the douchbag editor, who is in bed with her stepsister in a tirade that resonated deeply in my soul. “You like cool movies and music and stuff, but only for you! You want to be the smart one who likes cool stuff, and you don’t want your girlfriend to like cool stuff. Do you know how uncool that is?” She realizes she doesn’t need him or his bullshit. And then his dick gets chopped off. AMEN.

Lisa is in it for drama, not love. Spoiler alert for the ending: there is a fiery death and another resurrection, but I’m still standing my ground that it’s not a romantic gesture so much as a rash decision made out of desperation. Cody and Williams have given us a heroine who, much like Needy in Jennifer’s Body, is not here to make us feel comfortable or safe. And I’m 100% here for it. 

Rating:

By Tiffany Albright

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