Diablo Cody's work has always had an aw-shucks-but-make-it-dark quality to it. Her writing is chock-full of what can only be described as "Cody-isms": cynical irony, snappy dialogue, the mashing of genres and styles and boundless references to pop culture. While this list of post-modern mainstays can be applied to any number of writers, Cody's work is uniquely her own, so much so that she's probably more recognizable than the average screenwriter — blockbuster, indie or otherwise. Her writing is refreshingly brash and unapologetic (much like her), and in Lisa Frankenstein, those elements are taken to a loudly — but not always successful — '80s degree.
Written by Cody (after a six-year absence from the big-screen) and directed by Zelda Williams (daughter of the late Robin Williams, directing her first feature), Lisa Frankenstein follows Lisa Swallows (Kathryn Newton), a sharp, misunderstood teen in 1980s suburbia. Lisa lives with her father Dale (Joe Chrest), stepmother Janet (Carla Gugino) and uber-popular cheerleader stepsister Taffy (Liza Soberano). Lisa's biological mother was killed by a masked axe murderer the previous year, and everyone thinks Lisa is either traumatized or the murderer.
Not helping matters is Lisa's love for a long-dead musician, whose grave she attends to regularly, reading to him and leaving jewellery on his gravestone. One night, the musician — the Creature in this Frankenstein tale (Cole Sprouse) — is reanimated by the spark of some violent green lightning, and he comes looking for Lisa. She hides him from her family and friends, and soon begins helping him commit some pretty heinous acts in order to become "whole" again.
Throughout Lisa Frankenstein, we are presented with all of the aforementioned Cody-isms: it's a bold genre mash-up ('80s-teen-horror-rom-com sounds about right) filled with boundless references to pop culture (crimping technology, the Cure, "Dammit, Janet!") and other films (G.W. Pabst, John Hughes, Le voyage dans la lune and sleazy '80s horror). In fact, it's unabashed in its referentiality — the Creature is basically Undead Duckie, Lisa is Molly Ringwald, and their relationship is very much modelled after that unrequited "romance." Lisa's room even looks like Ringwald's from Sixteen Candles and Pretty in Pink, all pink and personalized. The soundtrack is also killer, featuring some of the most emotive bands from the '80s college rock era (anytime the Pixies are placed next to John Harrison's score for Day of the Dead, you know you're in for a treat).
Although many of the characters are presented as '80s clichés that act as foils to Lisa and the various changes she goes through, the performances are nevertheless all strong, particularly Gugino, Sprouse and Newton. Janet — the combative stepmother — can be a bit one-note, but Gugino plays her with such sincere disdain and vindictiveness that she makes it work, even with such thin characterization.
Sprouse plays a really convincing dead guy with dragging jitters and atonal grunts, and his morbid chemistry with Lisa is surprisingly effective and affecting. Joey Harris is also great as Tamara, Lisa's nemesis. She's a relentless classmate who gives Lisa a spiked drink early in the film and spends every moment on screen trying to catch Lisa in whatever wicked game she's playing. It's a minor role, but Harris owns those scenes.
The star, unsurprisingly, is Newton, whose comedic timing and budding gothy-ness carry the film. Lisa sticks out next to the generic makeup of her classmates and family, and her dark, vengeful side is even funnier than her morose, moping, teenage angst. There's an innocence to Lisa and the Creature's macabre relationship, and Cody and Williams find tenderness and humour in their violent extracurricular activities, as ironic deaths abound and dismemberment occurs in more ways than one — it's all so wonderfully neon-gothic.
Williams's direction is practical but inventive, and she has a strong eye for visual humour, the film's opening credits being a great introduction to her style. As the credits roll, gorgeously animated silhouettes summarize the Creature's backstory before the start of Lisa's. It's an artful start that's quickly (and harshly) juxtaposed by the introduction of Lisa's house, her room, her family, and the general garishness of the 1980s. The tremendous production design and costumes (courtesy of Mark Worthington and Meagan McLaughlin Luster, respectively) embody the radical nature of that tackiest of decades, and this contrast between the authenticity of the past and the audacious artificiality of the ‘80s perfectly encapsulates Lisa's desire for something less constructed, less plastic, less pink.
Even when the film takes a turn to the horrific and the bodies start piling up, it retains its comedic tone while also conveying its more pressing commentary around what a particularly awful time the '80s was for sexism. Sexual assaults were reported even less than they are now because people made jokes out of and about them, and women who were different or "deviant" were not only belittled and discouraged but denigrated.
Unfortunately, Cody's script doesn't sustain the forward momentum and snappiness promised by the first act, and throughout the second and third acts, the film loses much of its humour, edge and criticism, instead resting on zippy one-liners and corny slapstick set pieces that rarely land.
The third act is particularly underdeveloped, as if Cody doesn't know where to take the story or what to do with her characters. The tension built in the first half completely dissipates, and while it remains playfully grotesque through its finale, it relies too much on after-school special clichés about goths and death fetishization.
In the end, the film relishes the violence it depicts against various groups governing women's bodies (men, healthcare providers, law enforcement), but it never goes far enough with its gresomeness. Shots and moments are edited in ways that diminish the brutality — if you're going to cut certain (loaded) body parts off, don't be sheepish about it! The clever quips and references eventually grow stale and, for a while, the film stops being both fun and funny. Thankfully, though, when final moments do arrive, it features an unexpected and sincere twist, saving the preceding 30 or so minutes.
A humorous(-ish) homage to the '80s, Lisa Frankenstein also manages to antagonize the decade's callous attitude towards women's safety, be it sexual, physical, mental or otherwise. It's a dark comedy that eventually loses the best of both parts, but still entertains and repulses in the best possible way. While not D.O.A., Lisa Frankenstein definitely needed a little more spark to keep it, and its audience, alive.
