Guillermo del Toro’s long-prophesied adaptation of Frankenstein has finally been released. It serves as the latest in a nearly century-old line of putting Mary Shelley’s seminal novel on the big screen (or small screen, as the case may be). Del Toro himself has touted the original story as one of his favorites. His filmography, full of misunderstood monsters and supposedly “humane” creators, is proof that he understood the oeuvre of the Modern Prometheus long before directing an adaptation himself.
From this and the trailers, many, including myself, assumed that his take on Frankenstein would stick close to the original novel. In some ways, it did, especially compared to the benchmark of Frankenstein (1931), and in others, it very much didn’t. Del Toro imbued the novel with many thematic interpretations and historical context from the early 19th century, giving new life to many characters, so to speak.
The backstory of what led to Shelley’s 1818 novel has become something close to literary legend. She—alongside her husband Percy Shelley, stepsister Claire Claremont, mutual friend Lord Byron, and Byron’s physician John Polidori—were challenged to craft the scariest tale while trapped in Byron’s mansion due to a sudden freeze. This night would birth Shelley’s original iteration of Frankenstein and Polidori’s The Vampyre, both published two years later, with Frankenstein initially published anonymously. I stress the “initial” because Shelley would republish the novel under her name in 1821, then edit and republish it again in 1831.
The death of Shelley’s mother, the prominent feminist and abolitionist Mary Wollstonecraft, shortly after her birth, and the then-recent passing of her daughter had a massive impact on the 18-year-old and, therefore, on the first edition of Frankenstein. There’s a palpable anger towards Victor’s actions, especially towards Elizabeth, that is usually absent from other versions and adaptations of the novel.
Considering the novel came to be as a young woman was trapped in a mansion with three much older men while processing the death of her infant, it’s understandable why Victor’s initial characterization is so chauvinistic. The 1831 version was released not long after Percy passed, and Shelley was once again processing grief. Thus, the tone of the newer version, particularly in the added foreword and the characterization of Victor, is more forgiving. While the author’s anger towards Victor’s hubris is still present, Shelley’s additions show a bit more sympathy for why someone would dare to defy the natural order.
Del Toro’s film tonally aligns with the original 1818 version, even as it gives Victor (Oscar Isaac) more depth. It is also the most sympathetic direct adaptation of the Creature (Jacob Elordi). While the Boris Karloff iteration of the Creature remains the most iconic, they are wildly different from the novel iteration. In lieu of mimicking the patterns of a human growing from child to adult, despite lacking a traditional birth per se. I love Karloff’s performance, but the portrayal of the Creature as shambling, mute, and incapable of rational thought until Bride of Frankenstein (1935) is a huge disservice to the thematic weight of the Creature’s existence.
In Del Toro’s version, the Creature begins its life this way, interacting with its limited surroundings akin to a newborn. Initially, their development is quite stunted as Victor chooses to deprive his creation, his child, of stimulation at the first sign of perceived disobedience. As Elizabeth (Mia Goth) notes upon the revelation that Victor has been keeping the Creature in the basement of his decrepit mansion, the Creature knows no better, but Victor does. This makes the repeated instances of the Creature seeking out affection and subsequently being denied it, be it through his unintentional strength or the cruelty of man, all the more devastating.
The reintroduction of the old man and his granddaughter into the Creature’s narrative is all the more devastating. To my knowledge, this is the first adaptation to include the family in the forest; the 1931 version does include the Creature playing with a young girl by the river, but that’s the sole similarity. After seeing the Creature repeatedly search for love, companionship, and understanding, fail over and over again, it’s a welcome but all too brief respite to see them being cared for and treated as a fully formed person.
While del Toro drew on the source material for the Creature’s extra depth, much of the new backstory for Victor is original. The more detailed glimpses into his childhood and the addition of his little brother William (Felix Kammerer) do grant Victor more nuance beyond being a man of science and unethical persuasions. His verbal spars with Harlander (an aptly cast Christoph Waltz) also demonstrate how his folly intersects with other men who fancy themselves all-powerful: the clash between a man who believes he can cheat death through knowledge and a man who believes he can cheat death via capital.
All things considered, the addition of both William and Harlander is a net positive to the story, especially in how they both serve as foils for Victor to play off of. William, based on del Toro’s own little brother, is a sweet, if slightly saccharine, nod to the personal stake he has in the narrative. However, whatever ultimate payoff the inclusion of these two adds to the overall adaptation of Frankenstein doesn’t quite balance out the drag on the film’s bloated first act. My pettier gripe is that giving Victor a sibling feels sort of at odds with the “only child energy” he gives off. The bigger slight is towards Harlander’s inclusion, which, honestly, takes away from Elizabeth’s role, as does William.
However, what interested me was Del Toro’s insistence on showing Victor’s fixation with bodies and, more specifically, what bodies he focuses on. Perhaps the most overt is the medical model of a pregnant woman that he treats like a nineteenth-century fidget toy. It plays into some of the more Oedipal proclivities Victor has developed before and since his mother’s death (not helped by his fixation on drinking milk). But it demonstrates how he generally views the human body: piecemeal and expendable.
Some of this is a product of the time: Victor briefly mentions that his mother’s wealth, the wealth he inherited, came from the exploitation of enslaved people. This is built upon further when he’s checking the gallows for parts to harvest for the Creature. He comments on the viability of body parts directly without paying any mind to the people whose limbs are attached. To a degree, it extends to how he treats his collaborator, his brother, and Elizabeth.
Although not all the changes are particularly beneficial to the narrative, sometimes leading the film to feel a bit overloaded, the overall tonal shift back to the original 1818 novel feels fresh. With Maggie Gyllenhaal’s The Bride releasing early next year, it’ll be interesting to see what tonal and thematic parallels the two films could potentially have despite the titular Bride (Jessie Buckley) coming from the mind of James Whale.
With this adaptation, Victor feels appropriately clinical and detached, even with the new additions to his backstory and new characters for him to play off of. On the other end, the Creature is appropriately humanized as they grow from a new creation into their own being, with more of their characterization from the novel reintroduced. While Guillermo del Toro’s interpretation of Frankenstein is not a perfect adaptation of the novel, although it’s questionable to believe there’s ever such a thing, nor is it a complete departure from the novel like adaptations of the past, it is worthy of an audience and contemplation.
Editorial Courtesy of Red Broadwell
Feature Image Credit to Netflix