“Only monsters play god.”
Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein is a literary work that explores humanity in its darkest form. Through the immorality of reconstructing a creature from bodily remains to cheat death, there’s a grounding level of humanity. Unfortunately, death is inevitable. Witnessing it at a young age can shape one’s perception of the world. Shelley’s novel focuses on finding beauty in the unknown and in the memory of those who have passed on.
Shelley had faced immense hardship as a woman, as well as a fascination with how the human body functions. The loss of her children altered how she perceived life and death, and her grief informed much of her work. She incorporated themes of abandonment, loss, guilt, and grief in her writing, but Frankenstein challenges those ideas the most.
Dr. Frankenstein and the Creature can be seen as embodying a father-son dynamic — a parent unable to understand their child, or fearful of failing them by bringing them into the world.
In Guillermo del Toro’s Frankenstein, he explores Victor (Oscar Isaac) and the Creature (Jacob Elordi) more deeply than any other adaptation. This version strikes a balance between Victor’s madness and the Creature’s tenderness — one cannot exist without the other.
The film opens with sailors trapped in icy waters who discover a wounded Victor in the snow. Unbeknownst to them, his creation follows close behind. Through Victor’s recollections and the Creature’s pursuit, del Toro weaves a dual narrative that alternates perspectives to powerful effect.
The first half examines Victor’s obsession — his hunger for results, his arrogance, and his refusal to nurture his creation. The Creature becomes the tragic reflection of Victor’s ego. Elordi’s performance brings empathy to the monster’s suffering, revealing how Victor’s own insecurities drive his cruelty.
Elordi’s Creature represents the embodiment of a man’s arrogance and lust for control. Victor’s desire to “play God” transforms his brilliance into madness, corrupting his moral compass. Del Toro’s Gothic production design mirrors this inner decay, grounding the madness in rich earth tones and intricate architecture that symbolize life’s fragility.
Elizabeth (Mia Goth) serves as Victor’s moral counterpoint. While he obsesses over conquering death, she embraces compassion and understanding. Her brief but impactful bond with the Creature teaches him empathy — and offers a glimpse of humanity that Victor long abandoned.
Much like the Fawn in Pan’s Labyrinth or the Amphibian Man in The Shape of Water, del Toro gives his Creature a soul. Jacob Elordi’s physical performance captures both innocence and tragedy, creating one of the year’s most moving portrayals. His newborn-like movements and curiosity give life to a character often reduced to a monster.
Oscar Isaac delivers a commanding turn as Victor, adopting a crisp British accent that heightens the character’s arrogance. Yet despite Isaac’s intensity, it’s Elordi who ultimately steals the show.
As in Shelley’s novel, the Creature must learn to survive alone, teaching himself humanity while enduring isolation. Del Toro’s adaptation deepens this struggle — his Creature yearns for connection but is forever trapped in a body and life he never chose.
Guillermo del Toro’s Frankenstein is a breathtaking Gothic reimagining that expands on Mary Shelley’s themes with compassion, visual splendor, and emotional precision. It is the definitive adaptation — haunting, human, and heartbreakingly alive.
Rating: 4.5 stars
Review by: Amanda Guarragi