This time the bride, Eva, has gorgeous long hair and dewy eyes. And Frankenstein, a nut-Nietzschean playboy philosopher, doesn't quite buy his own line of progressive thinking.
Sting is dashingly exotic in the role, sexier than any of the previous mad scientists.
And Sting's curt, whipping voice matches his name. It is like a romance novel with a Gothic-erotic charge, though the key scenes of Sting and Beals mooning about his castle, sizing each other up with long stares, are too languid to catch fire. The film is slow, and at times more decorous than dramatic. Such faults don't excuse the wave of dismissal that has preceded it. Well, it is releasable, very viewable and often satisfying. too bad for them.