Drug addled and desperate, Vincent Krall seems to make enemies wherever he goes, whether offending his peers or murdering his patients. At home in his lab waits ‘Gail’ the resurrected cadaver of the woman he loved, now a childlike innocent learning etiquette from this deviant. As is often the case in these things the reanimated corpse with rotting flesh and countless surgical scars isn’t the true monster, it’s her creator.
Presented in a splendid high contrast black and white and set in the same year a certain Boris Karloff movie was released, Madame Frankenstein clearly derives its inspiration from the cinematic incarnation of Mary Shelley’s monster rather than its literary counterpart. Like Karloff’s monster, Gail is a tragic, shambling beast rather than an eloquent and tortured soul; a creature who doesn’t fully understand what has happened rather than one appalled it happened at all.
The artwork is pleasing on the eye, with clear and clean lines and a strong grasp on storytelling – one wordless sequence of a nighttime visit to the cemetery is spooky as hell – but the story by Jamie S. Rich seems to be treading water slightly. There’s not much new on offer here and while hints of Vincent’s backstory are given, nothing is any clearer from the last issue apart from the depths of his depravity. It’s clear that he has an agenda and vengeance seems to be on his mind, but the whys and wherefores aren’t forthcoming as of yet.
A weird stitching together of revenge, romance, monster movies and My Fair Lady this is a strange beast. The parts are all there, it just needs a little bit more spark to really bring it to life.
The writer of this piece was: Joe Morrison
Joe is Freelance film journalist based in Glasgow.
You can also find Joe on Twitter.