Director: Zelda Williams
Stars: Kathryn Newton, Cole Sprouse, Liza Soberano
Zelda Williams – daughter of Robin, no less – takes the reins here for her feature debut, working from a comedy horror script from the pen of Diablo Cody; her first filmed foray in such territories since cult favourite Jennifer’s Body. Cody’s writing is always sharp, acidic, idiosyncratic. Still, Williams seems a natural successor to Jennifer’s director Karyn Kusama, approaching Cody’s material with a similar affinity for lollipop neon and pastels wrapped up in twilight. The intent is clear; curate a new sleepover staple to sit beside Cody’s prior high-water mark.
That’s a laudable intention, but it’s a crowded field of late, especially since the rise and rise of streaming services and the success of Christopher Landon’s brand of knowing horror flicks. Movies like Happy Death Day and Freaky have become the templates for a slew of wannabes. Think It’s a Wonderful Knife or Totally Killer from last year alone. Plus, in the wake of teen super-hits Stranger Things and Fear Street, every one of these identikit titles seems to have an obligatory ’80s setting. The vibe is passed (or should that be past) tired.
It’s 1989. Lisa Swallows (Kathryn Newton) is a terminally unhip frizzy-haired outcast having a rough night. She’s been electrocuted in the garden shed and she’s had her drink spiked at a party. Staggering home she drifts into a dreamland in which she’s recast as the gothic princess of cinema’s silent era, resplendent with nods to Georges Méliès.
The waking world holds further reference points. Lisa’s neighbourhood seems like a direct remodelling of the suffocating pastel-pink suburbia found in Tim Burton’s Edward Scissorhands, while the various tilts to the kooky and eccentric only further such a connection. The night after her bizarre ordeal, Lisa is accosted at home by a zombie-like Creature (Cole Sprouse) while watching Day of the Dead. At first Lisa thinks he’s been lured in by Galaxy 500’s “Strange” (understandable; its a banger), but then she recalls a drug-induced plea she made in the graveyard the night before. Be careful what you wish for; she may have unwittingly called forth a boyfriend from the beyond. Her undead beau frequently appears from within her closet, parting a sliced image of Méliès’ moon; literally splitting her world open.
Thanks to Cody’s writing this is a sharp and sprightly excursion into a teenage dream, littered with pop culture and cine-literate references just as one might expect. Williams’ direction suggests a suitably era-specific touchstone however; video rental favourite Drop Dead Fred. Along with a “make your own friends” vibe that connects it spiritually to Lucky McKee’s malcontent masterpiece May, Lisa Frankenstein pulls away from the aforementioned clutter of online content into more specific retrograde territory. In keeping, when compared to the dregs littering Netflix, Lisa Frankenstein is a cut above.
Plenty of the teen comedy/coming-of-age staples are present, including the square step-parents (Carla Gugino, Joe Chrest) and more popular sibling (Liza Soberano) to ensure our heroine’s deep-seated outsider status. Lisa dutifully comes out of her shell over the course of the story, growing more confident and extroverted… lustful and vengeful. It’s a full awakening. With the aid of her undead fella she gets murderous vengeance on a grabby dweeb (Bryce Romero) from the night of the party, while in a wonderfully dreamy sequence the Creature is further revived through the miracle powers of Lisa’s garden shed tanning bed, bringing him closer to her ideal of a male partner. And, of course, with the coming of adulthood, the dark, erotic co-mingling and awareness of sex and death inevitably manifests.
Williams ensures we know its all an unbridled flight of fancy, but one in which Lisa is the consistent architect. The Creature’s silent expressiveness even figures into her adoration of silent cinema, furthering the sense that he is curated by her. There are a clutch of imaginary friend movies coming our way this year. Lisa Frankenstein spends a decent amount of time vying to be the best of them before the others have even had a chance.
Sprouse’s comic performance as the grunting, rotting himbo shows a knack for the slapstick, but it’s Newton who keeps a hold of the spotlight. She plays big, goes giddy, makes Lisa puckish before the stuffy grown-ups. There’s a hot-streak of Katharine Isabelle at her most vampish about Newton here, and that’s always complimentary. In terms of those on screen, this is her showcase, and she makes use of that opportunity with gusto.
It is perhaps the over-familiarity of the film’s deliberate influences and reference points that stops it from truly jumping into the realms of the iconic under its own terms. It all feels a little patchwork, like the mood-board for a movie, not quite an original creation in it’s own right. So it’s thanks to Williams, Cody and Newton for imprinting what’s here with the requisite spice to keep it standing out from the crowd. While it lacks the overt queerness of Jennifer’s Body, there’s enough dyed-in-the-wool outsider credo to make this one register just right with the up-and-coming clutch of freaks and weirdos suffering their way through high school today.
It’s a fine addition to a veritable lineage of teen comedy horrors. Playful, sassy, silly, and aware of it’s place in a greater pantheon of offbeat gems.
The Lost Highway Hotel 