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Mary Shelley brings to the life of women a model challenging her habits and directing her deeper demons to a legend for future generations when Frankenstein wrote. When Mary sincerely loved, she made her love a model for her typical writings that changed the course of literary art.
It's undercut by the hazy, magical realist aesthetic, the general insufferable nature of the men and the fact that a work that strives to be a serious, feminist piece too often feels like gothic romantic fiction.
Mary Shelley wants to be a film about artistic creation and female liberation. And, to a degree, it is. But it's so flat and poorly paced that it just feels like a squandered opportunity of monstrous proportions.