Guillermo del Toro’s Frankenstein hit theatres in mid-October and is now streaming on Netflix. The film is an adaptation of Mary Shelley’s 1818 novel of the same name, which is a classic in English literature and is often thought of as the first science fiction novel. The story follows the scientist Victor Frankenstein (Oscar Isaac) as his macabre experiments bring to life a sentient being, referred to as ‘the Creature’ (Jacob Elordi). 

Del Toro approached this project conscientiously, likening film adaptation to “marrying a widow.” Shelley’s original text—conceptualized by del Toro as a widow’s deceased husband—should be honoured, he explained, but should not immobilize the adaptation. Speaking with Netflix, del Toro metaphorized his intentions a different way, saying Frankenstein is a song he wanted “to sing […] in a different key with a different emotion.” He clearly valued the source material and its cultural legacy, while simultaneously prioritizing his own ambitions for the story.

Del Toro’s Frankenstein is aesthetically beautiful, offering captivating costume design and gorgeous imagery of the Arctic. However, the film is first and foremost anchored in its characters. It trades fear and shock for character study, exploring Victor’s childhood and the intellectual interests of Elizabeth (Mia Goth), Victor’s brother’s fiancée and his own love interest. The performances of the main cast reflect this emphasis on embodying characters, particularly in Elordi’s poignant portrayal of the Creature. Ironically, it is precisely the characterizations that I take issue with in this adaptation.

In reading Shelley’s novel, I observed that absence plays a key role. It is Victor’s absence in the Creature’s life that causes the initial tension between the two, the absence of a female companion that plagues the Creature, and, quintessentially, the absence of some unidentified human quality in the Creature that puzzles readers. Moreover, when reading Frankenstein as a birth myth—wherein Victor metaphorically gives birth to the Creature and then abandons him—the absence of the mother figure also stands out.

In del Toro’s adaptation, Mia Goth first plays Claire, Victor’s mother, and then Elizabeth. Hence, as soon as Elizabeth is introduced, she is visually understood to stand in for the missing mother of both Victor and the Creature. She offers the latter the kindness and empathy that Victor lacks and tries to educate him by encouraging him to speak. Elizabeth simultaneously adopts the role of the Creature’s desired female companion. Viewers picked up on the romantic subtext in Elizabeth and the Creature’s relationship, especially in the extended wedding scene, during which they express their love for one another. All the while, Elizabeth is wearing her wedding gown, with its bandage-like sleeves inspired by the costume design in Bride of Frankenstein. 

While Shelley’s novel leaves the character of Elizabeth underdeveloped, del Toro’s Elizabeth is overwrought with significance. Her character fills the absence that is so crucial to Shelley’s tale. She and the Creature act as a mother-son duo, with Oedipal implications, and as the embodiment of the moral good in the film. The Creature, who is aggressive and dangerous in the novel, is not guilty of such violence in the movie. To compensate, Victor remains wholly violent and vengeful until he is on the brink of death, the fear he felt in the novel replaced with cruelty.

Thus, del Toro’s characters operate within a strict binary between good and evil, whereas the novel’s characters manifest ambiguity. Often, scenes that require pause and silence are narrated over by Victor and the Creature, directly stating the moral of the story, preempting the viewer’s subjective analyses. 

Despite flaming dream sequences and gory depictions of Victor’s medical procedures, the film falls flat. Del Toro depletes his characters of their complexity. He excludes the audience from the experience of interpretation and presents them with what he takes to be the moral of the story on a silver platter. As mainstream art and entertainment become increasingly accommodating to binge-watching and second-screening, I was disappointed to find such a rich story and its characters so significantly reduced.