Guillermo del Toro’s adaptation of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein merges classic gothic storytelling with a rich tapestry of cinematic artistry, culminating in a $120 million epic brought to life for Netflix and theaters in early November. This highly anticipated film delivers an intense exploration of creation and humanity, with del Toro assembling a team of dedicated collaborators to craft a visually arresting and emotionally profound experience rooted in his enduring connection to the monster’s lament.
Central to this production is del Toro’s intention to create a truly handmade movie, using carefully built sets, hand-crafted costumes, and practical effects that honor the spirit of old Hollywood craftsmanship. The film focuses on Victor Frankenstein, played by Oscar Isaac, and his creature, embodied by Jacob Elordi, emphasizing the emotional bond between creator and creation within a stunningly designed world.
Designing Victor’s Laboratory: A Monumental Creative Undertaking
Production designer Tamara Deverell played a vital role in establishing the film’s immersive atmosphere, spending extensive hours developing Victor Frankenstein’s laboratory — a vast, atmospheric workshop perched atop an ancient stone tower in Scotland. The space features a large, iconic round window that floods the room with natural light, illuminating the intricate apparatus and the creature’s form laid across an operating table.
Upon witnessing the nearly completed set, Deverell was compelled to declare,
“I walked into the lab set when we were just finishing it, and I was like, ‘It … it’s alive!’”
This reaction embodies both the film’s central themes and the collaborative spirit behind its creation.
The lab set serves as the heart of the film, symbolizing the electric energy of invention and the blurred line between science and the supernatural, capturing both the grandeur and intimacy of Victor’s obsessive work.
Collaborative Craft: From Costumes to Creature Design
Del Toro’s vision extended deeply into every facet of the production, demanding synchronization between departments to achieve authenticity and emotional resonance. Costume designer Kate Hawley faced the challenge of creating apparel that felt immediate rather than strictly period-bound, rejecting conventional gothic tropes in favor of a more contemporary, lived-in aesthetic. She recalls del Toro’s instruction:
“His first brief was to me, ‘I don’t want any (expletive) top hats,’”
highlighting a desire for originality over cliché.
Among the most complex aspects was portraying the creature’s evolving appearance throughout the story, necessitating a dedicated team to dress and age the character’s clothing appropriately as he traverses harsh environments, from mud and snow to confrontations involving wolves and dynamite. Hawley humorously notes,
“It became a huge monster, in itself.”
The film’s vivid use of color, featuring rich reds, greens, and jewel tones, is characteristic of del Toro’s style, with particular care taken to perfect pieces like the regal blue dress worn by Mia Goth, which
“probably took four months to get right,”
Hawley explains, emphasizing the painstaking experimentation required with lighting and fabric to achieve the desired cinematic effect.
Creature designer Mike Hill collaborated closely with del Toro and Jacob Elordi to conceive a monster that diverges meaningfully from previous cinematic incarnations. Rather than a patchwork of mechanical parts and scars, this Frankenstein’s creature appears as a nascent, flesh-and-blood being, preserving a sense of vulnerability beneath its enigmatic exterior.
Hill articulates this intention clearly:
“I knew that if we made his face too garishly horrible, when you’re in a tight close-up on this character, if you’re looking at wounds and gore, you’re distracted. You have to keep the soul here,”
pointing to the eyes as windows into the creature’s emotional core.
He adds,
“I didn’t want a Cyberpunk look to this creature in any way. I respect the nuts and bolts from the original version, but we’re not doing that. We’re doing Guillermo del Toro’s version of Mary Shelley’s book. So I wanted to streamline him a little.”
Hill’s approach honors the source material while reshaping the creature’s identity through a unique lens.
Concerning the moment the creature first sits up, Hill remarks,
“It’s like waiting to watch Superman put on his costume for the first time,”
underscoring the pivotal emotional weight and anticipation carried by this scene.
Lighting and Atmosphere: Capturing the Gothic Spirit
Director of Photography Dan Lausten, a frequent collaborator of del Toro since their work together on 1997’s Mimic, brought a commitment to authentic lighting techniques that shape much of the movie’s aesthetic. Preferring to work with natural and practical light sources, Lausten utilized window light, cranes, and extensive use of smoke and steam to create dense, shadow-filled environments steeped in mood.
“We’re not afraid of the darkness,”
Lausten states with pride, pushing against modern tendencies for uniform brightness to embrace shadows that add drama and texture.
Lighting some scenes entirely by candlelight, he and del Toro have drawn inspiration from films like Stanley Kubrick’s Barry Lyndon, which famously employed NASA lenses to capture soft illumination. However, Lausten clarifies,
“We’re not soft light guys. The light should have a character. We like to have more contrast in the light.”
Their close partnership involves a sophisticated dialogue on shot composition and movement blocking. Lausten often encourages del Toro to experiment with different camera directions —
“He has a very strong idea about left to right in his blocking. Sometimes I try to push it right to left because the light is better… He says, ‘Lausten, you’re killing me, you’re killing me.’ But we like to be on the dark side of the actors. We want to shoot against the windows.”
This interplay between director and cinematographer enriches the film with layered visuals that blend gothic grandeur and intimacy, often within grand settings filled with atmospheric effects like fog and smoke from mechanical rigs.
Research and Locations Grounding the Story
The production was anchored by sets constructed in Toronto, where del Toro has resided for two decades, complemented by location shoots in the United Kingdom. Deverell and del Toro’s collaborative research journey included visits to Scottish towers, art museums, and unique architectural sites such as the Crossness Pumping Station in London, famed for Victorian ironwork, which informed the texture and mood of the film’s settings.
Deverell notes that her communication with del Toro is visually based rather than verbal:
“I don’t talk a lot with Guillermo about the movie. We speak in visuals, in paintings and other films. He’ll say, ‘Watch this film.’”
This shorthand reflects their deep artistic rapport, which translates into the immersive environment of Frankenstein.
Among the production’s standout sets is a massive, fully realized whaling ship trapped in Arctic ice, enhancing the narrative’s epic scale and situating the story within a tangible, almost tactile universe. The monumental laboratory itself is the film’s centerpiece, designed with the movement and presence of Oscar Isaac in mind. Deverell recalls,
“Guillermo wanted it big… I think he was designing it in his head for Oscar, who can move beautifully.”
Scoring the Creature’s Journey: An Emotional Soundscape
Composer Alexandre Desplat, who previously collaborated with del Toro on The Shape of Water and Pinocchio, considers Frankenstein as the final part of an emotional triptych. His musical score provides a lush, lyrical backdrop that conveys the interior struggles and desires of the film’s central characters, including the creature.
Desplat explains,
“I need to bring out their unspoken voice, their unspoken emotions. That’s why in the score there’s a large orchestra that plays big sometimes, with restraint sometimes. But on top of that there’s a beautiful violin player, the violinist Eldbjørg Hemsing from Norway, for whom I wrote very pure lines which expresses the most beautiful emotions of the creature.”
When scoring the pivotal sequence of Victor assembling the creature, Desplat initially questioned whether to opt for a gothic or violent sound. He recounts,
“But very quickly we came up with this idea that it would be viewed from Victor’s point of view. He’s in a creative trance in that moment, like any painter or sculptor. That’s where we decided to play a waltz.”
The intimate connection between the artistic creator and his creation resonates deeply with everyone involved in the film’s production. Desplat humorously reflects this idea, saying,
“Yes, though I don’t have that many pieces of corpses at home. I have some ice in the fridge,”
illustrating how each member of the team shares in the delicate act of bringing Frankenstein’s story to life.
