Guillermo del Toro finally brings his much-anticipated take on Mary Shelley’s classic tale to life with his visually ambitious and emotionally complex film, the Guillermo del Toro Frankenstein adaptation. Premiering on Netflix this year after decades of development, the project stands as a signature blend of period detail and haunting realism, while reinterpreting the well-known narrative for a modern audience.
Fresh Direction and Classic Roots
With del Toro’s long-held interest in Frankenstein, it is hardly surprising that his adaptation reflects years of contemplation on Shelley’s original novel. The film is soaked in period-appropriate costumes and practical effects, characteristic of del Toro’s artistry, as it ventures beyond technical boundaries to probe the heart of humanity and monstrosity. Despite many viewers experiencing Frankenstein on home devices, the scope and passion behind the adaptation transcends any screen size, making the work feel much bigger than its medium.
Starring Oscar Isaac as Dr. Victor Frankenstein and Jacob Elordi as the Monster, the cast also includes Mia Goth as Elizabeth Lavenza, with Lars Mikkelsen portraying Captain Anderson, whose presence anchors the opening act. The narrative follows familiar beats, beginning with Captain Anderson’s icebound ship in the Arctic Ocean, interrupted by the desperate arrival of Victor Frankenstein. Warning the crew of a relentless threat, Frankenstein soon faces the arrival of the Creature, who easily survives the crew’s attempts at killing him. The ensuing battle unfurls both the doctor’s memories of creating the Creature and, in a rare perspective shift, the Monster’s own account of events.
Reimagined Themes: Fathers and the Cycle of Violence
A significant distinction in Guillermo del Toro’s interpretation is a focus on parental relationships and the inheritance of trauma. In this version, the link between Victor Frankenstein and his creation echoes that of cruel fathers and their impressionable children. Victor, carrying scars from being abused by his own father, repeats patterns of coldness and control during and after the Creature’s construction. After giving life to the Monster through electricity, Victor is struck by the aftermath of his actions:
“I never considered what would come after creation.”
– Oscar Isaac, Dr. Victor Frankenstein
The Monster, longing for paternal guidance, instead confronts rejection and manipulation. The intensity of their relationship is underscored by an early flashback, showing Victor as a child suffering physical punishment for minor mistakes. Del Toro sets the stage for Victor’s later interactions with his creation, where words meant to reassure carry bitter irony when Victor tells the Creature:
“I’m not going to hurt you … I made you,”
– Oscar Isaac, Dr. Victor Frankenstein
The film raises questions about breaking the destructive cycles inherited from previous generations, as both creator and creation struggle with impulses toward cruelty and a desire for acceptance. It is a portrait of violence passed down and the struggle to break free from it, offering a new reading of familiar material.
The Monster’s Power and Tragedy
Del Toro’s reimagining also endows the Creature with a nearly invincible healing factor, drawing subtle comparisons to legendary figures like Wolverine and Clark Kent but stripped of their mythic trappings. This alteration amplifies the tragedy, as the Monster’s superhuman resilience becomes a burden, trapping him in a painful existence from which he cannot escape.
The Creature’s attempts at self-destruction – including an intense sequence with dynamite on a desolate arctic landscape – reflect a desperate quest for peace, denied by his creator’s science. These harrowing physical set-pieces are matched by scenes of astonishing violence, such as the Monster dispatching enemies with formidable force or dispatching animals with heartbreaking brutality, situating the Monster as a figure of both horror and sorrow.
Jacob Elordi’s portrayal brings layers of innocence and deep suffering, achieving a performance that is delicate yet monstrous. Through his journey, the Creature’s pain is made palpable: trapped between birth and death, aware of his difference, and longing for connection. This nuanced performance aligns with del Toro’s hallmark for monsters that are more human than their adversaries.
Victor Frankenstein’s decline is equally striking. As the film unfolds, Oscar Isaac’s version of the scientist grows ever more hardened and narcissistic, choosing pride over compassion with every decision. The true monstrosity emerges not in the Creature but in the doctor himself, who shuns all responsibility for what he has brought into the world.
Supporting Characters and New Perspectives
Although the central relationship dominates the film, supporting roles help balance the narrative. Mia Goth’s Elizabeth Lavenza offers moments of grace and understanding, particularly in her rare and meaningful encounters with the Creature. However, her presence is often overshadowed by the drama between Victor and his creation, reducing her to an agent of the plot rather than a fully realized participant.
Cameos from Charles Dance as Victor’s father and Ralph Ineson as Victor’s professor inject brief but notable moments of gravitas. Christoph Waltz steps in as Henrich Harlander, a role newly created for this adaptation as Elizabeth’s uncle and Victor’s financial benefactor. In a pivotal scene, he poses a chilling challenge to Frankenstein:
“Can you contain your fire, Prometheus, or will you burn your hands before delivering it?”
– Christoph Waltz, Henrich Harlander
This query reflects the film’s recurring theme regarding the consequences of overreaching ambition: What kind of legacy will the characters deliver to the world—will it be destructive, or might they grasp another, more compassionate way forward?
Searching for Redemption Amid Dualities
The question of salvation echoes throughout, with the story drawing on ideas of union and forgiveness. In one scene, the film nods to activist James Baldwin and his reflections on human unity:
“Salvation is not flight from the wrath of God; it is accepting and reciprocating the love of God. Salvation is not separation. It is the beginning of union with all that is or has been or will ever be.”
– James Baldwin, To Crush the Serpent
As both the Creature and Victor Frankenstein grapple with their roles—one seeking acceptance and self-worth, the other chasing forbidden creation—the film asks if reconciliation with oneself and the world is truly possible. The story’s intensity lies in showing how our worst instincts can be passed on, but also gently reminding viewers of our capability for forgiveness, kindness, and unity.
A Festival Debut and Broader Impact
Guillermo del Toro’s Frankenstein debuted at the Venice Film Festival, receiving critical attention that carried over to its screening at the Toronto International Film Festival. The film is scheduled for a limited theatrical release starting October 17, followed by its arrival on Netflix on November 7. Its premiere marks a significant moment for both del Toro’s filmography and contemporary adaptations of classic literature, opening the door for discussions about trauma, responsibility, and what it means to be truly human or monstrous.
