When I met famous writer Mary Wollstonecraft that great poet Percy Shelley was brave and wonderful. So begins a glamorous Bohemian love story marked by both passion and personal tragedy that will feed her Gothic artwork.
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.