A thematically rich but visually mixed adaptation
Director Guillermo Del Toro has been waiting to adapt Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus (that’s the full book title) ever since he saw the 1931 film Frankenstein at age eleven. His aspiration should come as no surprise to those familiar with his work — the gothic aesthetic and creature designs in his films have become synonymous with his name, like in Pan’s Labyrinth, Hellboy, and The Shape of Water. Del Toro has finally made his version of Frankenstein, produced and distributed by Netflix. The streaming company’s involvement may or may not have contributed to the film’s decision to include computer-generated (CG) animals, and imbue many of the film’s scenes with what I can only describe as a distracting “Netflix sheen.” The director’s devotion to the source text is commendable and gives the film a deeper emotional and philosophical resonance, even if the end result may baffle viewers unfamiliar with Shelley’s book.
Del Toro’s Frankenstein, and Shelley’s book, is told in non-linear fashion. After an injured and emaciated Dr. Victor Frankenstein (Oscar Isaac) is rescued from the arctic ice tundra by the crew of an explorer ship heading towards the North Pole, Frankenstein divulges the tale of his upbringing, scientific aspirations, and ultimate monstrous creation. Later, Frankenstein’s creature (Jacob Elordi) tells his own tale of tragedy, human discovery, and the ceaseless quest to find and confront his creator.
When Del Toro takes the action in Frankenstein outdoors, the film soars. Set pieces in the arctic, at beautiful English manors, and in the countryside are stunningly shot and lit. A few of the interior settings (the ones that are real-life locations) are beautifully captured. But, the majority of built-sets, from Frankenstein’s lab to the ship’s cabin, feel oddly separated from the outside world, as if peeking outside their doors or windows would reveal nothing at all, if not a studio soundstage. This is where the “Netflix sheen” is most apparent. Glossy and unnaturally lit, the sets in Frankenstein feel flat and…dare I say, tv-movie-esque. By the standards of Del Toro’s creativity and world-building expertise, Frankenstein’s frequent visual aura of glossy fabrication and siloed action is a disappointment. Frankenstein may be one of the first big-budget blockbusters to feel more appropriately watched at home.
In Frankenstein’s exploration of divine creation, love, companionship, and promethean ambition, the film finds its greatest success. In large part due to Elordi’s wonderful transformation and full-bodied performance, Frankenstein personifies the tragic implications of reckless hubris. In defying nature, Dr. Frankenstein has created a being who exists somewhere between life and death. Helping to round out the humanity of the narrative are Mia Goth as Lady Elizabeth Harlander, Victor’s infatuation and soon-to-be sister-in-law, as well as Christoph Waltz as Henrich Harlander, Elizabeth’s rich uncle who wishes to fund Victor’s scientific ambitions. The Harlanders represent opposite ends of a spectrum, with Elizabeth seeking meaningful companionship in the present, and Henrich pursuing advancements to benefit his own future.
Despite the technical shortcomings, Frankenstein is a worthwhile cinematic achievement that rightfully prioritizes themes above horrors. The film’s unnaturally lit scenes and cartoonish CG animals and landscapes don’t take away from the dramatized character studies that Shelley originally set out to explore, and Del Toro expands upon. The terror of Frankenstein’s monster makes up the bulk of Frankenstein’s legacy in pop culture, yet Del Toro has bravely set aside traditional scares (though not the gore, of which there’s a lot) in favor of dramatic resonance. We feel for the creature, for his plight, and for his unending suffering. By the end of the film, as with the book, we know who the real monster is.
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Frankenstein opens in theaters on Friday, Oct. 24th and will stream on Netflix beginning Friday, Nov. 7th.
