“Exactly what we’d expect an adaptation of Frankenstein to look like when helmed by someone whose entire raison d’être has been to explore the concept of monsters and their function in the culture.”

How do we define a monster? Is it someone (or something) that was designed to be malicious, or rather learns to be evil? This is a question that Guillermo del Toro has been asking since the beginning of his career, and no filmmaker (past or present) has been more committed to exploring the concept of monstrosity and its various qualities as much as he has, nearly every one of his films asking these questions, or at least laying them down as the foundation for quite compelling works. His most recent effort is one that he has been circling for quite some time, coming in the form of Frankenstein, an adaptation of Mary Shelley’s iconic novel, widely considered the first major work of both horror and science fiction. Having been fascinated with this story for years, it was only a matter of time before he stepped behind the camera to bring his vision of this novel to life – and while it’s not revolutionary and is exactly what we may expect, his version is nonetheless a compelling, enticing blend of psychological horror, gothic thriller and social commentary, taking a story we all know (and very likely admire), and reworking it to fit under his unique style. Exactly what we’d expect an adaptation of Frankenstein to look like when helmed by someone whose entire raison d’être has been to explore the concept of monsters and their function in the culture, the film is quite entertaining, despite its rather obvious approach.

Without becoming too focused on analysing this film through the lens of monster theory (which is an interesting area of study for anyone curious about the academic approach to the subject matter), it is very clear that we are fascinated by the concept of monsters, whether literally or metaphorically. This is what has always drawn us to Frankenstein as a story – a man is driven to the point of madness trying to play God, but finds that the pursuit of perfection backfires when his own creation sets out to destroy him. It’s a tale as old as time (and certainly not pioneered by Shelley, she simply crafted the most concise and popular version of this concept), going back to the ancient era, and serves as the core inspiration for del Toro’s approach to examining the mythology that has always surrounded this subject. It’s difficult to find new approaches to discussing this material, as thematically the film tackles the same subject matter – the vanity of creation, man vs. nature and the master-servant relationship, which are all additional themes that were usually factored into previous adaptations of the novel. Yet, it doesn’t make it any less compelling, especially when del Toro is taking the time to truly unravel the many quieter themes that don’t tend to be the focus when working with this novel, extending it far beyond the simple story of the dangers of being too ambitious.

Where this version is slightly different is the perspective – we aren’t limited only to the Victor Frankenstein character as he laments his mistake, but we also see the world through the eyes of the Creature, the film being split into two parts in which both characters are the focus. This is not entirely new, as there have been adaptations where the Creature is given more attention, but it is one of the first that builds itself around questioning which of the two main characters is truly the monster. The brilliance here comes in the casting, since no one would have expected either Oscar Isaac or Jacob Elordi to be likely contenders for these roles, but they fit in perfectly with the director’s vision, particularly in how he is focused on stepping away from the usual tendency to cast a certain kind of actor in these roles. Both actors are very strong, and it is most certainly a two-hander – Isaac navigates the moral ambiguity that comes with over-ambition exceptionally well, while Elordi delivers maybe his best performance yet as the Creature. He oscillates between terrifying and sympathetic, a quality he inherits from Boris Karloff’s iconic version of the character, coming the closest we’ve seen to someone truly understanding the nuances of a figure who is misunderstood, both in the context of the story and how the novel has been interpreted over the years.

As compelling as the film may be simply as a tug-of-war between Isaac and Elordi (and this isn’t even getting to the rest of the cast, with the ensemble being unexpectedly strong), Frankenstein is held together by del Toro’s direction, which has not been this effective in years. He’s a fascinating filmmaker, but he has a tendency to prioritise style over substance, and as he has been given more access to resources, he’s defaulted to excess far too often. Frankenstein does slightly shift this, since while it is produced on an enormous scope, everything feels justified on the basis of being in service of goals much deeper than just the director’s efforts to make films on an epic scale. The design – both the art direction and costuming – is incredible, with the colours and intricate details making every frame absolutely gorgeous. Even if the story may feel slightly indulgent and over-the-top at times, it’s difficult to resist the visual grandeur of the film, with everything pieced together beautifully. Considering he has often been praised for his eye for detail, it’s tremendously satisfying to see that del Toro takes the opportunity to do something different, while still keeping the same aesthetic that he has mastered. It’s also worth noting that there is a focus on practical effects, which balances out the use of CGI, creating a more authentic and interesting visual palette on which the film is constructed.

Frankenstein doesn’t reinvent the genre or do anything entirely innovative, at least in terms of taking a text that has been the subject of countless adaptations, parodies and homages since its publication, thus taking on a life of its own. It’s also not entirely new territory for del Toro, who is clearly making a concerted effort to tick off all the passion projects that he has wanted to make for his entire career, having spent the past decade making the films that speak to him the most, rather than more trivial experiments. However, while it may not be considered the definitive version of Shelley’s novel (by this point, defining any adaptation of such a classic text as being the best version is a fool’s errand, since its reputation has far eclipsed any singular approach being considered superior to another), it is del Toro’s version, a film that he has been waiting to make for his entire career, and which he does exceptionally well. It’s obvious when a particular concept has been percolating in a director’s mind for quite some time, since every decision is well-conceived and meaningful, and there are very few moments in which we see del Toro making an aesthetic or narrative choice just for the sake of stirring a reaction. It’s not likely to be considered his masterpiece, but rather a well-crafted, visually arresting adaptation of a novel that has been brought to life on countless occasions before (no pun intended), yet still feels very compelling when handled by someone whose enthusiasm for the material is nothing short of wholeheartedly admirable.