Readers are advised that this article contains spoilers for Guillermo del Toro’s Frankenstein.
“Believe me, Frankenstein, I was benevolent; my soul glowed with love and humanity, but am I not alone, miserably alone? You, my creator, abhor me; what hope can I gather from your fellow creatures, who owe me nothing? They spurn and hate me.”
The aforementioned quote from Mary Shelley’s seminal 1818 novel could effectively encapsulate the primary thesis of writer-director Guillermo del Toro’s upcoming Frankenstein film. Given del Toro’s established cinematic history of challenging the inherent villainy of monsters—evident in works such as The Shape of Water and Best Picture winner Pan’s Labyrinth—and his characterization of Shelley’s Creature as his favorite monster, this thematic emphasis appears to be a deliberate choice.
However, strict adherents to Shelley’s original text might find del Toro’s Creature’s infrequent monstrous actions problematic. Although Shelley portrays the Creature as an entity whose innocence is corrupted by creator neglect and societal prejudice, she ultimately attributes responsibility for his vengeful fury and consequent horrific acts to him.
Del Toro’s Frankenstein, slated for select theatrical release on Oct. 17 and Netflix streaming on Nov. 7, depicts the Creature (portrayed by Jacob Elordi) undertaking significantly fewer malevolent acts compared to his novelistic counterpart. In the literary version, these actions serve to portray him as monstrous after his abandonment by his egotistical and cruel creator, Victor Frankenstein (Oscar Isaac). The on-screen portrayal yields a notably distinct outcome. “I’ve lived with Mary Shelley’s creation all my life,” del Toro conveyed to The Hollywood Reporter regarding his adaptation. “For me, it’s the Bible. But I wanted to make it my own, to sing it back in a different key with a different emotion.”
Within Shelley’s novel, the Creature either directly perpetrates or is implicated in the deaths of multiple innocent individuals, driven by his vendetta against Victor. These casualties encompass Victor’s younger brother William, depicted as a child and much younger than the film’s adult William (Felix Kammerer); Justine Moritz, a young woman executed after being framed for William’s murder by the Creature; Victor’s close friend Henry; and Victor’s fiancée Elizabeth, who is betrothed to William in the film rather than his brother.
Conversely, del Toro presents the Creature as a considerably more empathetic and compassionate character. During a visit to Victor on William and Elizabeth’s supposed wedding day, seeking a companion, Victor ultimately frames the Creature for the murder of Elizabeth (Mia Goth)—one of the rare individuals to extend kindness and understanding to him—following Victor’s own accidental shooting of her.
From the inception of his existence, the Creature’s life is characterized by torment and anguish. Nevertheless, in the film, his retaliation is exclusively directed towards Victor. While incidental casualties occur, such as sailors aboard the Horizon who attempt to defend Victor against him, his animosity does not encompass Victor’s family or friends.
What about the ending of del Toro’s Frankenstein?
As Victor pursues the Creature across the Arctic in the film’s concluding segment, audiences are inclined to sympathize predominantly with the latter. Nonetheless, subsequent to their mutual recounting of experiences, the Creature extends forgiveness to Victor. Furthermore, he concludes that, being immortal—a divergence from the novel where he can self-immolate—he must discover a means to genuinely live.
“[The Creature] decides that, regardless of all the hell and the anguish and the suffering…he’s going to live,” Jacob Elordi shared. “I carry that with me after making the film, and I’m incredibly grateful to Guillermo for sort of singing that song of hope.”
Within the novel, both Victor and the Creature manifest monstrous tendencies, mutually inciting each other towards their darkest impulses. Moreover, they are deprived of the opportunity to convey their respective narratives, and Victor perishes aboard the Arctic vessel, wishing he could have terminated his creation. Upon learning of his creator’s death, the Creature expresses remorse for his transgressions and resolves to self-immolate on a pyre, thereby eradicating from the world a body shunned by society—a consequence of science unchecked by empathy—and attaining his sole available peace.
Del Toro indicates that the decision to conclude the film with a more optimistic tone than the novel stems from his personal experiences. In a conversation with the Los Angeles Times, he characterized his Frankenstein as a narrative illustrating the “chain of pain” transmitted from fathers to sons and the inherent difficulty in disrupting these intergenerational behavioral patterns.
“If I’d made it when I was younger, it would have just been the gripes of a son toward a father,” he said. “Now it’s about the desire for forgiveness of a father who was originally a son, and who realizes life has thrown him into a role he’s not fulfilling…That’s very biographical. That’s not in the book. That’s not Mary Shelley. That’s me.”