Between 2024’s Lisa Frankenstein and Maggie Gyllenhaal’s upcoming The Bride!, new iterations of the stitched-together and woefully misunderstood monster drop on a damn-near annual cycle. Lately, these takes have been far-removed from Mary Shelley’s classic novel. So much so, Guillermo del Toro’s Frankenstein — while still highly anticipated by the filmmaker’s faithful — almost seems passé and uninspired on its surface. At the same time, the director’s work is rarely skin-deep. And similar to his last adaptation, 2022’s Pinocchio (the good one, without Tom Hanks), del Toro wraps his iconic aesthetic around an emotional and accessible narrative heart.
After Capt. Anderson (Lars Mikkelsen, Netflix’s House of Cards), his crew and his ship get stuck in the North Pole, they rescue a dying Victor Frankenstein (Oscar Isaac, Ex Machina). Unfortunately, saving Victor incurs the wrath of his creature (Jacob Elordi, Saltburn), who quickly turns a third of the crew into ragdolls and human accordions. After temporarily subduing his monster, Victor recounts his history, including his tumultuous relationship with his brother’s fiancée, Elizabeth (Mia Goth, MaXXXine). Before he can wrap up his memoir, however, the creature returns with a forceful request: to tell his own story.
Frankenstein is a straighter adaptation than Pinocchio, though both necromancy-laden films feel tonally and thematically inseparable. The former notably lands on a less bleak note than its source material without significantly changing Shelley’s plot. Still, it takes some liberties to modernize with mixed results. On the plus side, Elizabeth has exponentially more agency and purpose, who’s made even more vibrant by Goth’s performance.
And despite its two-and-a-half-hour runtime, the film’s pacing is far brisker than a mostly faithful Frankenstein adaptation has any right to be. That said, the film omits a particularly famous act that — while it ultimately makes sense — is nonetheless missed given everything else del Toro includes. Finally, the forced creature fight scenes feel at odds with the film’s celebration of life, almost like they were jammed in because someone felt the film was too boring without some Marvel-esque violence.
Overtly, this may be the most del Toro of the director’s filmography. It’s not for everyone, but for those who vibe with his craft, Frankenstein feels like the film he was born to make. It has some superficial flourishes, like the flaming angel of death that sort of looks like an unused asset from a Hellboy flick, but most of his visual storytelling lands poetically. As far as the cinematography is concerned, it’s a little more muddled. For the most part, the ample closeups lend themselves to the film’s overall intimacy. Conversely, only a few shots of Victor’s castle and Anderson’s ship convey the sprawling epic that the film — at least at times — tries to be.
Frankenstein, like the monstrosity it revolves around, isn’t perfect. But deep down, it delivers a message that we desperate need: We try so hard to beat death, we unintentionally forget to champion life. In a time where catastrophic violence can seem imminent, living might be the greatest act of defiance. —Daniel Bokemper
