Commendably adapted or blasphemous to Mary Shelley, Guillermo del Toro’s Frankenstein is a movie — and a fair one at that.  Skies hang ominously over a wet, bone-chilling landscape where the infamous creature doesn’t stop its rampage, as if It Follows dipped its toes into the 18th century. Del Toro’s obsession with flesh rekindles echoes of The Fly and Hellraiser,... Continue Reading →