Guillermo del Toro’s Frankenstein adaptation revisits the classic tale with a dedication to Mary Shelley’s original novel while offering a sprawling, ambitious retelling. Released recently on Netflix, this two-and-a-half-hour film explores the complex relationship between creator and creation, probing the question of what defines the true “monster.” With Oscar Isaac portraying Dr. Victor Frankenstein as deeply troubled rather than simply scientific, del Toro casts the story in a darker, more introspective light.
Plot and Character Dynamics Explored
The film begins in the Arctic, where a ship trapped in ice encounters a mysterious, rag-wrapped figure who relentlessly pursues Dr. Frankenstein. This cinematic framing reflects Shelley’s epistolary narrative, setting a harsh, isolated tone early on. Unlike many previous versions, the creature here, played by Jacob Elordi, is neither the mute brute of classic film nor a simple horror figure. Instead, he is given a poetic consciousness, wrestling with an existential crisis: despite a violent, painful existence, he seeks purpose and understanding in a hostile world.
Del Toro’s creature is nearly indestructible, unaffected by bullets or other weapons, which adds a superhero-like dimension to the character but can diminish the sense of menace. His physical appearance, partly described as a wounded soldier or emo jock, deviates sharply from earlier portrayals by actors such as Boris Karloff, who famously embodied a tragic, naive giant. This shift challenges audience expectations of Frankenstein’s monster and introduces a more articulate and emotionally complex figure.
Artistic Ambition Meets Technical Limitations
Despite its ambitious scale, the film shows some technical challenges, especially in visual effects that appear better suited to television than a cinematic release. Designed primarily for Netflix’s streaming platform, Frankenstein’s grand scope is somewhat compromised by effects that lack the immersive quality expected in a theatrical experience. Cinematographer Dan Laustsen‘s use of wide-angle lenses, intended to maximize visual detail, paradoxically makes scenes feel smaller and confined, detracting from the film’s epic intentions.
Complementing the visuals is Alexandre Desplat’s elaborate score, which adds a layer of grandeur and emotional depth. Del Toro’s meticulous attention to design—seen in the film’s costumes, sets, and props—showcases his creativity and reverence for detail, though some designs verge on excessive, overwhelming viewers rather than enhancing the narrative.
Structural Choices and Narrative Flow
Initially, del Toro considered dividing the story into two films, one from Frankenstein’s perspective and the other from his creation’s. He abandoned this in favor of a shortened, continuous narrative that shifts mid-film to the creature’s point of view. While this allows the audience to hear the creature’s articulate voice and perspective, it lessens the impact of his emotional evolution, as the narrative shift feels abrupt and dilutes the tension.
The film dwells on the psychological depths of creation and existence, touching on themes of abandonment, loneliness, and the pursuit of knowledge. This includes references to John Milton’s Paradise Lost, which emphasize the creature’s torment over his unwanted life and creation, reinforcing the existential questions central to Shelley’s novel.
Complex Character Portrayals and Family Trauma
One of the film’s most significant departures is the expanded focus on Dr. Frankenstein’s family background. Charles Dance plays Victor’s authoritarian father, Leopold, whose domineering nature influences much of Victor’s obsession with fateful experiments, while Lauren Collins portrays his mother, Claire. Her early death during childbirth is shown as a profound trauma that propels Victor’s desire to conquer death itself. This family tragedy shapes the film’s emotional core more than the scientific ambition traditionally highlighted.
Young Victor, portrayed at different ages including by Christian Convery as a disturbed child, shows hints of psychological damage, evoking dark future possibilities. His brother William’s premature death and the coming of a calculating patron, Christoph Waltz’s Harlander, deepen the atmosphere of lost innocence and moral ambiguity, although the latter’s limited screen time leaves his role feeling underdeveloped.
Violence and the Treatment of Sexuality
Del Toro’s film is unflinching in its graphic presentation of violence, using visceral effects of surgery and bodily harm to confront viewers with the horror of Frankenstein’s work. However, the depiction of sexuality is conspicuously muted, creating a strange contrast. Scenes that might imply erotic tension are carefully censored, with objects and bubbles strategically placed to obscure nudity. This avoidance extends to the creature itself, whose loincloth and stoic demeanor desexualize a character often implied to have raw physical power and potential threat.
This choice complicates the film’s exploration of the monster’s relationship with Elizabeth, Victor’s future sister-in-law, whose ambiguous attraction to the creature lacks a clear foundation without sexual tension. The omission also sidelines central themes in Shelley’s novel about the dangers of playing God not only through science but through desire and human connection.
Themes of Creation, Ambition, and Father-Son Relationships
Rather than focusing heavily on the scientific ambition warning famously associated with Frankenstein—as seen in films like Jurassic Park and earlier adaptations—del Toro emphasizes psychological and familial dynamics. The ghost of paternal influence, fractured relationships across generations, and the scars of trauma frame the story’s emotional undertow. Victor’s obsession is less about reckless science and more about the unresolved wounds left by his parents.
This thematic focus subtly shifts the narrative towards a meditation on legacy and the burdens passed from fathers to sons, rather than solely on the consequences of playing God. The creature becomes a symbol for the unintended outcomes of this lineage of trauma and ambition, struggling to find belonging in a world that sees him as monstrous.
Visual and Audio Highlights Amid Uneven Execution
Del Toro’s Frankenstein excels in individual scenes of emotional and visual power, such as the funeral of Claire, which stands out as the film’s most resonant and beautifully crafted moment. The film’s setting—ranging from a Victorian water tower for Frankenstein’s lab to a burning tower from which the creature escapes—imbues the story with a gothic atmosphere, although some exterior shots and CGI elements, like wolves, lack realism and undermine the intended mood.
The creature’s narration aboard the trapped ship adds a poignant layer as narrated by Elordi, whose performance brings vulnerability and strength to the role. Still, the film struggles to balance these moments of intimacy against its overall pacing and thematic density, feeling overlong when compared to the tight 71 minutes of the 1931 classic adaptation by James Whale.
Final Thoughts on Del Toro’s Frankenstein Adaptation
Del Toro’s Guillermo del Toro Frankenstein adaptation offers an ambitious, visually rich interpretation that honors Shelley’s text more closely than most previous efforts. Yet, its grand scale and detailed production sometimes work against the storytelling, making the narrative feel cluttered and unfocused. Emotional power and philosophical questions are present but not always given the space to develop fully, leaving a sense of imbalance between spectacle and substance.
Nonetheless, the film’s reexamination of the relationship between creator and creation, alongside themes of loneliness, trauma, and the search for meaning, brings new depth to a familiar story. Its presence on Netflix ensures wide access, and while not without flaws, del Toro’s Frankenstein is a significant addition to the legacy of this enduring myth. How audiences respond will likely influence whether he revisits this territory again, possibly refining the scope or format in future projects.
