Monsters: Film Review of Frankenstein
★★★1/2
Illustration by Michael DiMilo
By Geoff Carter
Mary Woolstencraft Shelly’s gothic novel Frankenstein has gone through as many—or more—film iterations than any other horror story, except perhaps the Dracula franchise. Depending on the critical lens being used to examine it, the story can be seen as addressing issues of life, death, immortality, responsibility, paternity, feminism, or the consequences of aspiring to play God.
Guillermo del Toro, the director whose previous works include Pan’s Labyrinth, The Shape of Water, and Nightmare Alley, is the latest to bring the legend of Frankenstein to the big screen. His fascination with the gothic fairy tale and otherworldly creatures would seem to be a perfect fit to create a modern vehicle for this tale. His version of the classic is opulent and beautiful, operatic and gothic.
The film opens as a ship, the Horisont, a Danish ship bound for the North Pole, is locked into the Arctic ice. As the crew works fervently trying to free the ship but are diverted by a distant explosion. They investigate and discover a gravely wounded Victor Frankenstein (Oscar Isaac) and bring him back to the ship. They are soon attacked by an otherworldly creature (Jacob Elordi) who demands Frankenstein be delivered to him. The captain refuses and his crew have to beat back the creature.
Back in the cabin, Frankenstein tells his story. As a child, he doted on his mother (Mia Goth) but was mentally abused by his father (Charles Dance), a renowned surgeon. Convinced that his father let his mother die in childbirth, he vows to surpass his father in skill and reputation—and to defeat death itself.
Years later, at university, Frankenstein is demonstrating grisly proof that he can defeat death by bringing the deceased back to life at a seminar. Expelled because of his extremist beliefs, Frankenstein is contacted by his brother William’s (Felix Kammerer) future father-in-law Heinrich Harlander (Christopher Walz) who is intrigued by Victor’s work and promises to use his fortune made as a munitions manufacturer to bankroll his research.
Victor’s brother William also pledges his support and introduces him to his fiancé Elizabeth (Mia Goth). Victor is smitten with her, but she refuses to return his affections. Angry at being rebuffed, he turns his energies to creating life from death.
Unlike the regeneration sequences of earlier Frankenstein renditions, del Toro’s rendition of the creature’s construction is almost (despite the gore and excess of body parts) a fascinating assemblage—sort of like putting together a difficult jigsaw puzzle. Despite some difficulties with Heinrich, the monster, in a beautifully rendered scene, comes to life. Victor is at first overjoyed at his accomplishment, but then, as the creature does not seem to progress beyond idiocy, he becomes frustrated and—in an act of wanton cruelty—attempts to burn it alive.
Chapter two of the film is the creature’s story. After escaping a fiery death, it wanders the countryside, displaying a sensitivity and affection for woodland creatures, but is shot at and wounded by passing hunters. Taking refuge in a mill, the creature has the opportunity to observe the family who lives there and hoping to be accepted by them, starts doing chores at night for them. When the family leaves, the creature befriends the old blind man who lives there. The elder teaches him to read and listens to his story, but when the hunters return, they attack and kill the creature, who does not stay dead long.
He is furious at Frankenstein for creating and then forsaking him and vows to take revenge. He crashes William and Elizabeth’s wedding, which results in several deaths and results in Victor’s vow for vengeance. He chases the creature to the ends of the earth, ending up at the North Pole and the Horisont.
Guillermo del Toro has said it was always his dream to film his version of Frankenstein, and this version has his fingerprints all over it. Elements of gothic horror (obviously), the fairy tale, and a mysterious and powerful otherworldly creature are dominant motifs, as are elements—as in The Shape of Water—of the Beauty and the Beast tale.
The set design and period costumes are sumptuous, creating an otherworldly, almost surreal tone. The coffins in which Victor’s parents are buried are sort of Queen Anne styled sarcophagi complete with porcelain death masks. Victor’s mother is dressed in a blood-red train of sheer fabric. To my eye, Tamara Deverell’s production design was somewhat reminiscent of Coppola’s version of Dracula, as were, to a greater degree, Kate Hawley’s costumes, which reflected not only the historical period, but also represent characters.
The mother’s red dress, Victor’s red gloves, and Elizabeth’s bonnet compose a motif representing Victor’s mother. In an in interview in The Credits, Hawley said del Toro did not want any black in their palettes, but instead invested in saturated colors reflective of the Enlightenment Period. Even the scenes in the Arctic are tinged in rich blues.
The scope of Frankenstein transcends the sensibility of a horror movie, and even that of a Shakesperean tragedy—of which it does contain elements. It is operatic in its vision and scale. From Frankenstein’s vast tower lab to the frozen battlefields of the Crimea, this tale is larger than life. It is also, for all its dark themes, quite beautiful. Oscar Isaac’s performance is beautifully calibrated, capturing Frankenstein’s waves of fury and frustration without going overboard.
The double casting of Mia Goth as Claire Frankenstein and Elizabeth might be interpreted as Frankenstein’s fever dream of defeating death. It was his mother’s death at (in Victor’s view) his father’s hand that sparked his demented vision. His fascination with Mia might be seen as a resurrection of his love for his mother (shades of Freudenstein), and her rejection of his love as sort of a second death.
Elizabeth’s affinity for the creature highlights Victor’s disdain for his own creation—his progeny, his son—much as his own father disdained him. He, in fact, turns into his own abusive and cruel parent, detesting his own progeny.
The film is rich in detail. One of the most telling moments is when the creature spies on the miller’s family. He lies stretched out on a beam as rats crawl up and down his body. He does not care, and, in fact, treats them with respect—respecting the detested. The creature’s make-up is also a revelation. The jigsaw puzzle of his newly joined body parts is a much more realistic and refreshing vision of what Frankenstein’s task really entailed, as is the director’s treatment of Frankenstein’s messy laboratory and the dozens of body parts littering the surrounding bucolic landscape.
The supporting cast is nothing short of magnificent. Christopher Walz, as always, exudes his façade of genteel, but sometimes ruthless, continental sophistication. In this case, it covers a multitude of sins. Goth conveys an ethereal, almost otherworldly presence as Elizabeth, but has no problem (perhaps in the tradition of the Woolstencraft women) no problem stating her radical views.
Jacob Elrodi is brilliant as the creature, running the gamut from the innocent, first seen standing at the foot of Victor’s bed staring at his sleeping father, to a wretched soul craving acceptance and love to a thinking being all to aware of the random cruelty and agony of existence. Using nothing but facial expressions and one single word of dialogue in his infancy, he is able to communicate volumes about his inner life.
Guillermo del Toro is a master filmmaker, and he has outdone himself with Frankenstein. It is a brilliant, beautiful rendition of the timeless story of birth, life, death, and family. It is brilliant in its scope and revelatory in its definition of humanity. Mary Woolstencraft Shelley’s novel is a classic, as this film is sure to be, probably sooner than later.