Guillermo del Toro’s latest film, Frankenstein, breathes new life into the classic tale of creation and consequence. Set in 1857, six years after the death of Mary Shelley, the film explores the complex relationship between creator and creature through a unique lens. In contrast to the traditional horror narrative, del Toro’s interpretation focuses on themes of responsibility and identity rather than sheer terror.
The film opens with a stranded crew in the Arctic, referred to as the Farthermost North. Here, they encounter a wounded Victor Frankenstein, portrayed by Oscar Isaac, who is in pursuit of his creation. Unlike previous adaptations, del Toro presents Victor not as a horrified creator, but as one who embraces the creature, teaching it to recognize the sun and even pronounce his name.
The creature, played by Jacob Elordi, is crafted from the remains of fallen soldiers, resulting in a figure that is more romantic than monstrous. This reimagining invites audiences to reconsider their perceptions of the myth and its implications about humanity. Del Toro weaves in rich metaphorical language, hinting at deeper themes of parental responsibility and the burdens of creation.
Del Toro’s film delves into the psychological drama of Victor’s relationships, particularly with his father, played by Charles Dance. Their dynamic reflects the classic Oedipal struggle, with Victor caught between his father’s expectations and his own ambitions. This tension amplifies the mythic elements of the story, examining how genius often brings unhappiness and how caretakers can fail those they are meant to protect.
Victor’s hubris leads him to believe he can surpass divine creation, which ultimately results in dire consequences. In a pivotal scene, he demonstrates his experiment to an audience in Edinburgh, showcasing his belief that “God is inept.” This conviction sets him on a path of self-destruction, culminating in his expulsion from the Royal College of Medicine.
As the narrative unfolds, audiences witness the creature’s journey. It observes a rural family, learns to communicate, and ultimately seeks a companion, prompting profound questions about existence and the nature of love. When Victor refuses to create a mate, tragedy ensues, leading to irreversible consequences.
Del Toro’s storytelling style blends elements of magical realism and Gothic horror, reminiscent of his previous works such as Pan’s Labyrinth (2006) and Nightmare Alley (2021). The film challenges viewers to confront uncomfortable truths about creation, responsibility, and the inherent flaws within the human condition.
In a striking final act, Victor’s relationship with his creation reaches a critical juncture, forcing both characters to confront their identities in a world that often fails to understand them. This exploration of the monster myth resonates deeply, inviting reflection on the roles we assume in our lives—be it as creators, parents, or caretakers.
As del Toro eloquently captures in his film, the true monster often lies not within the creature, but in the failures of those who create and abandon. With Frankenstein, del Toro not only reinvigorates a classic story but also prompts essential conversations about humanity’s enduring struggle with creation and consequence.
