Director Paul McGuigan's re-imagining of Mary Shelley's classic is a mash-up monster. Victor Frankenstein steals viscera from Guillermo del Toro's Hellboy, Martin Scorsese's Hugo, old-school Hammer Horror films, Todd McFarlane's action figures, and countless other bits of genre detritus. All of that sounds like it could be a good time—like hanging out with a mythical hybrid, like a lioncowpanzee, an adorable mooing primate with a flowing golden mane. But, in reality, watching Victor Frankenstein is more like chilling with a lioncowpanzee that was stitched together by Dr. Frankenstein—a cross-eyed beast that's much more likely to be masturbating while cramming its four stomachs full of zebra carcass.

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