There’s a special place in horror hell reserved for movies that promise epic monster battles and instead deliver a student film with the pacing of a funeral and the lighting of a parking garage. Frankenstein vs. The Mummy (2015), written and directed by Damien Leone, confidently stumbles into that cursed category.
This film dares to ask the question: “What if Frankenstein’s monster and the Mummy fought each other?” The answer, apparently, is: “They don’t, really — but you’ll still watch two hours of decomposing foreplay before realizing that.”
The Premise: A Monster Mash Without the Mash
The setup sounds like every classic Universal horror fan’s dream — a face-off between two iconic creatures. In reality, it plays out like a graduate school soap opera with a faint whiff of embalming fluid.
Dr. Victor Frankenstein (Max Rhyser) is a smug college professor who spends his days lecturing about anatomy and his nights stitching together corpses like a deranged Etsy seller. His girlfriend, Naihla Khalil (Ashton Leigh), is an archaeology professor who, for reasons that scream “OSHA violation,” brings a centuries-old Egyptian mummy back to her American campus.
Yes, she checked an actual mummy into customs. You can practically hear the TSA agent saying, “Ma’am, you can’t put a corpse in carry-on, but it’s fine if you declare it.”
Naturally, Frankenstein brings his monster to life, and Naihla’s mummy wakes up too — because in this cinematic universe, ancient curses apparently work on campus Wi-Fi. Eventually, and I mean eventually, the two creatures meet and slap each other around in a dimly lit hallway. It’s like watching two retirees fight over the last pudding cup at the nursing home.
Frankenstein: The Brooding Corpse Wrangler
Max Rhyser’s Dr. Frankenstein isn’t so much a tortured genius as he is an overcaffeinated lab TA with boundary issues. He spends most of his screen time yelling at corpses and looking vaguely constipated with ambition.
When he finally reanimates his creation, he doesn’t celebrate or even panic. He just sort of… sighs, like someone who realized they left the oven on during necromancy.
And his monster? Imagine a professional wrestler dipped in latex and sadness. Constantin Tripes plays him as a hissing, hulking brute who looks like he smells like wet beef jerky. He lumbers around muttering about pain, betrayal, and how no one loves him — basically, he’s every ex-boyfriend who thinks Nietzsche quotes make him deep.
The Mummy: Sand, Bandages, and Missed Potential
Meanwhile, on the archaeology side of things, Naihla Khalil — who I assume teaches “How to Unleash Ancient Evil 101” — unpacks her mummy like it’s a souvenir from Bed Bath & Beyond.
The mummy, played by Brandon deSpain, actually looks decent, all things considered. Credit where it’s due: the makeup effects are impressive for a movie that probably cost less than the catering on The Mummy (1999). The creature’s design has that gritty, decayed quality you’d expect from someone who’s spent 4,000 years rotting in a tomb.
Unfortunately, he doesn’t do much besides grunt, shuffle, and stare longingly into the void. He’s less “vengeful ancient priest” and more “guy who missed his bus and decided to haunt whoever’s nearby.”
When he finally starts killing people, it’s about as thrilling as watching someone slowly unfold a towel.
The Romance: Fifty Shades of Boring
At the heart of this monster mashup is the most lifeless romantic subplot ever committed to digital film. Naihla and Victor’s relationship has all the chemistry of a high school science project that didn’t make it past regionals.
They flirt, they argue, they make out in scenes that feel less passionate and more like two actors trying to find the right camera angle. When Naihla discovers Victor’s hobby of corpse assembly, she reacts not with horror, but with mild irritation — as if he forgot to take out the trash, not violate several laws of nature.
Their emotional connection is so shallow that when the monsters finally show up, you’re just relieved something — anything — is happening.
The Monster Fight: More “Slight Disagreement” Than “Showdown of the Century”
After what feels like twelve academic semesters of buildup, the film finally gets to the big event: Frankenstein’s monster vs. the Mummy.
You’d think this would be cinematic gold — two titans of terror, clashing in an epic, thunderous duel! Instead, it’s more like an awkward brawl behind a bar at closing time.
The choreography looks improvised, the lighting so dim you can’t tell who’s winning, and the camera keeps cutting away as if even it’s embarrassed to be there. By the time the monsters actually start throwing punches, you’ve already checked your watch, your phone, and possibly your will to live.
There’s no sense of scale, tension, or excitement — just two latex-covered dudes slapping each other while Frankenstein yells like an angry gym coach in the background.
The Direction: A Tragic Case of Overcommitment
Director Damien Leone clearly loves his monsters — that much is obvious. His makeup work is impressive, and his practical effects have genuine heart. Unfortunately, his script has the pacing of a snail in cement boots and the tone of someone reading Frankenstein aloud in a library at gunpoint.
Leone claimed he wanted to make the film “serious” rather than campy like Freddy vs. Jason. Mission accomplished: it’s dead serious — and by “dead,” I mean lifeless, joyless, and in desperate need of a sense of humor.
The film’s biggest sin isn’t that it’s bad; it’s that it’s boring. You can forgive cheap effects and amateur acting if a movie at least entertains. But Frankenstein vs. The Mummy drags every scene out like it’s applying for tenure.
The Dialogue: Straight Outta Science Camp
Sample line from Dr. Frankenstein:
“Science is not evil, only man’s use of it is!”
Another from Naihla:
“You can’t play God, Victor! Even gods are afraid of death!”
It’s like every line was written by ChatGPT’s evil twin after reading one paragraph of Mary Shelley’s novel.
Between the lectures about mortality, the exposition dumps about ancient Egyptian curses, and the monster growling like a lawn mower trying to start, it’s a miracle anyone stayed conscious long enough to finish filming.
The Visuals: When in Doubt, Turn Off the Lights
Cinematography-wise, the film looks like it was shot entirely through a jar of molasses. Everything’s either too dark or too orange, as though Frankenstein lives inside an over-filtered Instagram post.
Every scene that takes place in Frankenstein’s lab looks like someone forgot to pay the electricity bill. The mummy’s tomb scenes are equally murky — you’d think they filmed inside a sandstorm.
It’s a shame, really, because when you can see the makeup, it’s pretty damn good. If only the lighting didn’t make you feel like you were watching through a cataract.
The Ending: To Be Continued (Please, No)
The movie wraps up with — what else — both monsters dying, sort of. There’s blood, yelling, and what looks like a mutual kill. Frankenstein screams about “playing God” again, Naihla looks sad, and the credits roll before you can even ask, “Wait, that’s it?”
If you squint, you can almost imagine a sequel. Then you remember this one exists, and you stop squinting immediately.
Final Thoughts: The Real Monster Was the Run Time
Frankenstein vs. The Mummy is what happens when enthusiasm outruns talent — a love letter to classic horror written in crayon and smudged by tears of regret.
It’s not campy enough to be fun, not scary enough to be horror, and not exciting enough to qualify as an actual “versus” movie. It’s just… there. Shambling along, stitched together from better films, moaning about lost glory.
Much like its title characters, it’s a reanimated corpse of something that should’ve stayed dead.
Final Score: 3/10
A monster mash that forgets the mash. Too serious to be silly, too slow to be scary, and too dark to be seen. The real horror is that someone edited this and said, “Yep, nailed it.”
