Frankenstein: The bumbling, brain-dead zombie that throws children into lakes, hates fire, and has the recycled brain of a murderer. Or is that Frankenstein’s Monster?
Neither is true. In the original 1818 Mary Shelly novel, Frankenstein, known simply as “The Creature,” is a thinking, feeling individual who was abandoned by his creator and left to find his own way through a hostile world. Kind at heart but driven to unspeakable acts by a society that rejects him, “The Creature” is a victim of Victor Frankenstein’s insatiable ambition and failure to take responsibility for his creation. It may be a fantastical book about the limits of science and the miracle of creation, but it is also a book about a father and the abandonment of his unconventional son.
In a world where science threatens to remake the fabric of our modern lives, the themes of this 200-year-old book are increasingly relevant, just as they were during the heart of the Industrial Revolution, when the book was written.
So it felt fitting that Guillermo del Toro’s adaptation promised to revive the soul of the original, overwriting the adaptations that have made great Halloween costumes, but lacked the psychological provocations of the book.
Boasting a 120 million dollar budget wielded by the creature connoisseur himself, this Netflix film is a beautiful showcase of practical effects, impeccable set design, and seamless acting. All of which valiantly, but vainly, attempt to create the definitive version of a tale that has long resided in the halls of monster legend.
The set design in this film is easily its strongest aspect. The warm glow of sputtering torches set against the cold aquamarine snow of the Arctic starts the film off with an intriguing air of mystery, lifted directly from the pages of the novel. This is followed by the obscenely opulent halls of Victor’s childhood home, where he grows up amongst servants, science, and psychological suffering. The untimely loss of his parents deeply affects his burgeoning intellect, sparking an obsession with the intricacies of life and a search to cheat the inevitability of death.
This obsession finds its home in an imposing tower on the side of a cliff where The Creature is painstakingly pieced together. The tower is impossibly authentic and serves as a prime example of the production talent on display throughout the film, but also the confused thematic elements of this adaptation. It’s a large, brash space that is remade into Victor’s laboratory by dozens of servants and hired hands, a stark contrast to the location and tone of The Creature’s conception in the novel.
In the book, Victor’s creation is an entirely solo project that takes place in an improvised laboratory in the attic of his own apartment. Shunned by academia, his pursuits are harrowing and unquestionably disturbing. He scrounges for fresh body parts, shuts himself away from the world, and deteriorates into a gaunt, haggard individual, addicted to his defilement of the natural law.
The complete isolation of his work shows the toll that blind, solitary ambition can take on an individual, and is the most important aspect of his character.
This is the first instance where the narrative trips over itself, stumbling until its themes stray further from the source material, eventually toppling into a confused mess of disparate ideas. The production elements, soundtrack, and acting are all excellent, but the narrative lacks a singular throughline to tie its different storylines together.
In the novel, each part of the story revolves around responsibility, morality, and an individual’s relationship to society. Victor’s ravenous ambition isolates him from colleagues, friends, and family as he becomes so consumed with his project that he doesn’t even begin to think about its consequences.
When his creature is finally finished, he abandons it in horror and refuses to accept responsibility for it and its actions, leading to more turmoil and isolation.
The creature, on the other hand, wishes for the community Victor so recklessly tosses away, but is rejected from society due to his ghastly appearance. He tries in vain to help others, to be a part of their lives, but eventually cannot live with the constant hate he experiences. He blames his creator and acts out in a violent tirade of revenge. Unlike Victor, however, he accepts his moral failures, taking responsibility for them and showing deep remorse at his violent actions.
The novel labors over these themes, reinforcing the dichotomy between Victor and his creation as both endure terrible suffering, each one desperately lacking the qualities the other possesses.
The novel labors over these themes, reinforcing the dichotomy between Victor and his creation as both endure terrible suffering, each one desperately lacking the qualities the other possesses.
The film doesn’t seem to understand this. Perhaps there is too much to get through and too little time. The changes to the narrative attempt to simplify its complicated structure, but ultimately take away from its core ideas, adding subplots that distract from the story and a love triangle that feels wholly unnecessary.
This is no fault of the actors — their performances kept the film engaging despite its thematic drawbacks.
Oscar Isaac excels at building a believable Victor Frankenstein, which is no easy feat. Victor is highly intelligent, tinged with a subtle arrogance, and has a ravenous appetite for knowledge, traits that Isaac’s performance demonstrates seamlessly. Through his performance, you see Victor’s morality slowly eroded by a wild, wide-eyed ambition that drives him to the borders of sanity. The one drawback to his casting is his age. Victor’s reckless drive is emboldened by his naivete, and it just doesn’t make sense for a 46-year-old to be making the rash decisions of someone who should be in their early 20s. Luckily, the authenticity of his performance outweighs the dissonance created by his age, making him a compelling lead.
Jacob Elordi is an equally skillful, but divergent take on The Creature, who miraculously transitions from a timid, even cute, toddler of a man into a roaring, animalistic beast. He becomes the emotional heart of the film, and despite its confused themes, manages to evoke the sympathetic nature of his character from the novel.
His design is unique and hauntingly beautiful, a cobbled-together collection of scavenged parts that looks just a bit too perfect. Rather than looking like an abhorrent bastardization of nature, he looks like a pale anatomical diagram of an idealized man, and it’s laughable to think that people would react to his appearance with immediate lethal hostility instead of slight wariness.
Unfortunately, the supporting cast suffers from a similar lack of direction. Mia Goth, who plays the reimagined Lady Elizabeth and Victor’s mother, offers a maternal comfort to Victor, whose mommy issues are reinforced by his constant appetite for milk throughout the film. Yeah… There is an attempted thematic connection to parentage and passing on trauma, but this subplot could have used another revision or two.
Her unusual connection to the creature is a new addition to the story, as she comes close to being the parent to The Creature that Victor failed to be. It’s an interesting attempt at another character dichotomy, but feels like a distraction from the main focus rather than a complement. The Creature is supposed to be so unpalatable to humans that he tries to force Victor into making him an equally abhorrent companion. If Elizabeth is content with being a mother (or lover?) to him despite his appearance, the entire point of the novel is lost. Frankenstein is not Beauty and the Beast.
It’s a shame that a film so beautiful and so clearly dedicated to the source material manages to fumble the meaning behind the original story.
Christoph Waltz’s Igor is another modification to the story, and is equally half-baked. He only serves to finance Victor’s obsession, which is unnecessary considering he comes from great wealth. His death and the reveal of his terminal illness fall apart under any logical scrutiny and distract from the already confused themes.
It’s a shame that a film so beautiful and so clearly dedicated to the source material manages to fumble the meaning behind the original story. The additions are puzzling and distracting, as even slight changes to the narrative sap context and believability from the events of the story.
On its own, the revised story is servicable, but knowing the haunting beauty of the original makes this adaptation pale in comparison. Perhaps Frankenstein will eventually be fully reanimated on screen with the same thesis as the original, but unfortunately, this adaptation does not live up to it.
Frankenstein
Directed by Guillermo del Toro
Netflix, Oct. 2025
118 min.
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