Get ready to see Mary Shelley’s iconic tale like never before—Guillermo del Toro’s Frankenstein is here, and it’s a breathtaking blend of the familiar and the fantastical. But here’s where it gets controversial: Is this truly a reinvention, or just a stylish reinterpretation? Let’s dive in.
Del Toro, a lifelong admirer of Shelley’s novel, has called Frankenstein “the quintessential teenage book,” and his obsession is evident in every frame of this Netflix adaptation. His infamous Bleak House in Los Angeles is a testament to this fascination, brimming with versions of the creature from countless adaptations. For decades, he’s dreamed of bringing his own vision to life. ‘I dream I can make the greatest Frankenstein ever,’ he once said, ‘but once you make it, the dream is gone.’ And now, that dream is a reality—but does it live up to the hype?
This isn’t a radical reimagining of the classic monster myth. Instead, del Toro uses the story as a canvas to explore his signature themes: the beauty in darkness, the corruption of innocence, and the fraught relationship between creator and creation. What emerges is a film that feels both timeless and distinctly his own. And this is the part most people miss: It’s not just about the monster—it’s about the man who made him.
The story unfolds through dual perspectives. First, we meet Victor Frankenstein (Oscar Isaac), a brilliant but egomaniacal scientist obsessed with conquering death. His theatrical demonstrations—reviving a ragged torso in fleeting bursts—unsettle even the most respected doctors. That is, until he crosses paths with Harlander (Christoph Waltz), a wealthy arms dealer who funds his research. But here’s the twist: Victor’s obsession isn’t just scientific—it’s personal. Haunted by the loss of his mother and raised by a cold, distant father, he’s driven by a desperate desire to cheat death itself.
What sets this adaptation apart is its meticulous attention to the act of creation. Victor’s process is gritty and grounded: he scours morgues and battlefields for parts, treating bodies like pieces of a macabre puzzle. The creature’s unusual height? A practical decision, as larger parts were easier to work with. When Victor finally flips the switch, bringing a stitched-together man (Jacob Elordi) to life, it feels miraculous—even if you know what’s coming.
But the real drama begins after the creature opens its eyes. Victor, unprepared for the consequences of his actions, oscillates between paternal tenderness and callous neglect. The creature, a towering figure with healing powers and a childlike mind, is both awe-inspiring and tragic. For a long time, the only word he can say is ‘Victor’—a detail that infuriates his creator. Eventually, Victor’s regret turns to rage, and he attempts to destroy his creation, casting the creature into a harsh, unforgiving world.
From here, the story shifts to the creature’s perspective, and it’s heartbreaking. Despite his gentle nature, the world rejects him for his terrifying appearance. Only Victor’s sister-in-law, Elizabeth (Mia Goth), sees him as a person. Trapped in a grim existence—unable to die due to his healing powers—the creature seeks revenge on his creator. Bold question: Is Victor the true monster here?
What elevates del Toro’s take is its unflinching exploration of the parent-child dynamic. Victor is a deeply flawed ‘father,’ more concerned with proving his genius than caring for his creation. When the creature fails to meet his expectations, Victor abandons him, leaving the monster to grapple with his existence. Despite his rage, the creature never fully gives up on Victor, and their relationship culminates in a surprisingly poignant finale.
Every element of the film serves this theme. Oscar Isaac’s charisma makes Victor both compelling and infuriating, while Jacob Elordi delivers a transformative performance, evolving from a wide-eyed innocent to a tragic beast. The creature’s design—pale skin, geometric scars—is unlike anything we’ve seen before, yet feels eerily plausible. Paired with del Toro’s signature set design, costumes, and dreamlike imagery, the film is a visual feast. Even the coffins are stunning.
It’s clear why this project took so long to materialize—every detail is meticulously crafted. Like the creature itself, the film stitches together familiar elements to create something alive and new. But here’s the real question: Does it surpass the original, or merely pay homage to it? Let us know in the comments.
Frankenstein hits select theaters on October 17th and streams on Netflix starting November 7th. Don’t miss it—and while you’re at it, follow Andrew Webster for more thought-provoking takes like this.
