Film Review: Mary Shelley

The life of Frankenstein author Mary Shelley (aka Mary Wollenstonecraft Godwin) is a compelling tale of control, fear and abandonment – even without her story of a monster and his creator. The daughter of philosopher and women’s rights advocate Mary Wollstonecraft, Mary was a feminist and political radical. Three of her children died young, and when her groundbreaking novel was published, many refused to believe that she, and not her husband, had written it.

Combined with Mary’s love of the gothic and macabre, a biopic of her life should be provocative and moving.So why does Haifaa Al-Mansour’s film feel so staid and polite?

Much of this traditional biopic focuses on Mary’s (Elle Fanning) meeting and relationship with married Romantic poet Percy Bysshe Shelley (Douglas Booth), whose financial irresponsibility and belief in free love – but not mutual respect – makes for a tumultuous relationship.

This leads to intriguing interludes, including a wine and debauchery filled summer with bisexual Lord Byron (a scene-stealing Tom Sturridge) where the idea of Frankenstein is born. Then there’s Mary’s slow realisation that though men and women may both pursue artistic endeavours and non-monogamy, society will not reward both equally.

However, these themes remain smothered under a layer of period piece manners. Under-developed as a character before she meets Shelley, Mary’s declarations of independence from her family and social norms feel less like the act of a radical free-thinker, and more like a teenager merely parroting the words of her swoon-worthy lover.

Al-Mansour does play with candlelight and ornate interiors to create a darkly beautiful atmosphere, but – unlike Mary’s most famous fictional creation – it refuses to come alive.

3/5