On a dark and stormy night, Dr. Frankenstein strolled into town and began to create; not, as you may think, his most recent "Bride," but a beast far more influential and ineradicable.
He created movies. In fact, he created a whole approach toward movie making. It is called the Dead and Borrowed Body Parts School of Cinema, and the way it works is this:
First, gather celluloid corpses from unguarded graves, then make due with what you've stolen. Among the many parts available are: sympathetic protagonists with fatal illnesses; mean Russians; lovable Mafiosi; special effects of any kind; chain-saw, ice-pick or kitchen-knife killing(s); frontal nudity in conjunction with chain-saw, ice-pick or kitchen-knife killing(s); cute, precocious children and/or teens; stupid cops and/or teachers; muscle-bound, brain-dead vigilantes; fast cars.
Next, cut and stitch these pieces into an overblown, misshapen framework. Then, jolt with several thousand kilowatts of committee suggestions and advertising bravura and, voila , you've created either (a) a monster or (b) a megahit . . . depending upon your perspective.
Unfortunately, the only thing missing in Dr. F's method of movies is a brain. But, as Igor can tell you, good fresh brains are hard to come by these days.