by Guillermo del Toro has a track record of memorable films spanning the last three decades. Even those unenthusiastic about cinema have seen one or more of his films and probably appreciated action movies such as BLADE II (2002) or HELLBOY (2004), with PAN’S LABYRINTH (2006) often cited as a favorite of film buffs. At the same time, it has to be acknowledged that del Toro’s work has become different in the past ten years. You could say it’s more personal. You could also say it’s concerning itself more with the zeitgeist. It is therefore interesting that del Toro would adapt a novel as old as FRANKENSTEIN (1818) and even go as far as saying it is his dream material to work with. Right off the bat, though, it has to be presumed that he’d add an undercurrent coming from our present times, which can make or break a film adaptation.
Netflix has turned into a haven for filmmakers these days, apparently giving creators a lot more room to maneuver in than other studios. Adam Sandler is cranking out films with Netflix that are great for his fans but probably couldn’t be made that way in any other environment. And while Netflix is seeing a lot of critique, especially for so-called “woke” material, it can also be surmised the films and series are more sincere than other studios’ counterparts. This is for better or for worse. In other words, Netflix has a chair for every butt and viewers may choose as they please. For del Toro’s FRANKENSTEIN, this means you shouldn’t be expecting a sublime gothic adaptation to begin with.
On the surface, del Toro doesn’t deviate too far from the source material in terms of structure. But if you take a closer look, you understand his adaptation is far more personal and less true to Shelley’s book than it may seem.
Mary Shelley’s novel FRANKENSTEIN OR, THE MODERN PROMETHEUS (1818) is two things above all else. First, it’s an intelligent and thought-provoking portrait of the conflict between science and religion (or spirituality), and if there is ever a moral responsibility to intellectual capability. Second, it is a well-written novel ahead of its time, modern and easily standing the test of time. On the surface, del Toro doesn’t deviate too far from the source material in terms of structure. But if you take a closer look, you understand his adaptation is far more personal and less true to Shelley’s book than it may seem. The beginning of the film has that gothic appearance, that gaslight romanticism we’re expecting. It presents the Creature as the monster, uncanny, unfathomable and superman in strength, while Victor Frankenstein appears to be the victim, saved by a captain and his crew of, sadly, dispensable cardboard men only present to give the monster some easy prey. The moment Victor starts sharing his story, the atmosphere is changed. It doesn’t feel gothic anymore, rather like a gothic imitation worthy of a theme park at best, serving as the first disappointment.
Victor’s childhood as a mother’s boy with a devilish but intelligent father who’s favoring his brother, maybe for the blonde hair or his obedient character or whatever, providing all the motivation he’ll ever need to become the most prolific surgeon or doctor in history, seems unconvincing in explaining his total lack of personality, morale or genuine intellect. Instead of emancipating himself from his father, Victor becomes his father without ever overcoming the desire for his approval. Even after his father’s death it seems Victor cannot stop but try and impress and surpass him, making his accomplishments pitiable. Interestingly, the setting of his experiments is changed from Ingolstadt to Edinburgh, a choice that may make you roll your eyes. The university at Ingolstadt was a leading institution when Shelley wrote her novel, hence a fitting setting for her story. Admittedly, finding gothic filming locations in Ingolstadt these days might prove challenging but the Audi factory could’ve been edited out for sure. Edinburgh having the benefit of not being destroyed in the two World Wars and being probably the epitome of a gothic city next to Budapest is almost as corny a choice as possible. Add to that we never really see any of the landmarks and you wonder why such details have to be changed for no reason. It is the same with Victor’s experiment, presented to a crowd stunned speechless for various reasons. Not only is his “revival” of a dead body morally questionable. It is also presented in the most disgusting fashion with a complete lack of taste. This isn’t new to our times. Everything has to be exaggerated to obscurity in vain attempts at making a point, the point here being to emphasize Victor’s total absence of morale or respect for social boundaries. That there are streams of blood washing down the cobbled street in front of his house is just another weak visual parlor trick trying to overemphasize the obvious to the ignorant viewer.
Victor’s younger brother and his fiancée come to visit him in Edinburgh after Heinrich Harlander, wealthy arms manufacturer and the bride’s uncle, establishes contact with Victor and shows lots of respect for and interest in his work. Played by Christoph Waltz in typical fashion, professional and predictably boring, another tamed-down Hans Landa, Harlander becomes Victor’s benefactor. The scientist seems too busy to ask for a catch, maybe because he’s infatuated with his brother’s fiancée, wanting her for himself. But then again, what else would Victor be doing? In fact, it would’ve been a surprise, hadn’t del Toro used Lady Harlander as yet another blatant plot device serving no other purpose than embodying three traits Victor doesn’t without any further context: beauty, compassion and love. Victor’s brother though serves no other purpose than just being there and being the target of Victor’s envy simply for the fact their father loved William unconditionally and trained Victor to become his successor.
There’s a very fitting German term to his act: Leichenfledderei. It translates as robbing or picking the dead. We feel disgusted, but even del Toro isn’t concerned with these poor slobs whose bodies will never be returned home or buried but the parts not used thrown out like meat gone bad.
Not much of the lab building in rural Europe, with artists and craftsmen fulfilling every of Victor’s wishes to the fullest content and Harlander picking up the bills without flinching is very inspiring. The repurposed tower doesn’t make much sense, yet is too obviously illustrious and stylish to elaborate upon. Like Victor, it exists in its own vacuum. And don’t ever ask how Victor eventually assembles the Creature out of body parts of fallen soldiers that aren’t damaged beyond usefulness in an unnamed battle. When Victor is scanning the battlefield for suitable bodies, he’s reduced to the lowest peasant scum robbing the dead. There’s a very fitting German term to his act: Leichenfledderei. It translates as robbing or picking the dead. We feel disgusted, but even del Toro isn’t concerned with these poor slobs whose bodies will never be returned home or buried but the parts not used thrown out like meat gone bad. In these sequences, he’s keeping his distance from the dead, as not to show any faces or add personality to them, almost as if he himself doesn’t have the heart to watch. For the first time, there’s this Catholic undercurrent: as a sinner, Victor is condemned to unimaginable suffering. During a thunderstorm, he tries to revive the newly-assembled body, amazed when encountering his own creation in the morning. Now, he is the Modern Prometheus. Unlike Prometheus, wo brought fire to humanity, we wonder what Victor has accomplished other than atrocity. Just like Prometheus, he’ll be punished anyway.
Disgusted by his Creature’s lack of instant intellect, and showing worse impatience than his father, Victor puts him in chains underneath the tower, unable to show compassion or reason in any way. Now it turns out Harlander is interested in the Creature for his own purpose. Finding his body destroyed by syphilis, he hopes for reanimation by Victor planting his brain into the Creature’s body. Here, the Catholic theme becomes impossible to ignore. Since the donors’ bodies were destroyed, there cannot be rebirth in the Catholic understanding, least for Harlander. He’s also punished for adultery, as Victor tells him even his brain cells are infected by the disease. Never mind the creature’s unparalleled healing powers that should’ve restored the cells. Because all the laws of Catholicism have been violated, there will be no redemption. This is clarified when Harlander falls to his death, prominently and permanently destroying his brain. And then again, del Toro contradicts these concepts with something far more ambiguous: love.
Victor’s unrequited affection for Lady Harlander and the Catholic punishment for sinning are juxtaposed by the fact that Elizabeth encounters the Creature in chains by chance when she and William visit. Elizabeth is fascinated by the Creature, while the Creature seems to be infatuated by her. You could even suspect they’re falling in love with each other, despite the Creature’s odd appearance, suggesting love transcending physical attraction. This feels reminiscent of themes in Victor Hugo’s THE MAN WHO LAUGHS (1869, film adaptation in 1928) where the Dutchess is attracted to Gwynplaine’s disfigurement. It also feels reminiscent of del Toro’s THE SHAPE OF WATER (2017) where a misunderstood Elisa falls in love with the Creature treated so shamelessly unfair. And that is why it feels so dishonest, for del Toro punishes his characters for adultery and desecration of corpses and desiring other men’s women but ostensibly defends sodomy as long as it comes from true love.
It is almost obvious that Victor, or God, is severely injured in an attempt to save his creation after setting the tower ablaze. The rest of the story is close to its source material. The Creature learns from other people, there are consequences to everything you do, the master refuses to finish his creation by providing a female companion to the Creature, innocent people die (Elizabeth and William), the Creature and the master clash for dominance and redemption. While Victor could’ve accomplished immortality in the sense that his research could’ve survived him, had he respected morale and humanity, the Creature’s immortality is a punishment. Living forever, the Creature is condemned to ever seek purpose and meaning, and to come to terms with its abusive father. The novel accomplished what del Toro did not in his somewhat derailed adaptation: evoke sympathy for Victor Frankenstein and the Creature when the master dies and his creation has to live on forever.
It is no sin to adapt material, even when it has been adapted countless times throughout history. The problem is that the source material not always blends well with ideologies of the time when the adaptation was made. Guillermo del Toro’s adaptation of Mary Shelley’s FRANKENSTEIN is no exception. By trying to give us something new, it sets itself up for failure. It is not a visual or storytelling failure, just a cinematic experience falling short under the weight of its own additions and undercurrents. A religious, or rather Catholic undercurrent, has always been present in the story. But altering it with somewhat dishonest contemporary beliefs never added any value or creditability to the movie. For those that don’t know the novel or don’t care about subtext, the film could be worth watching. Anyone else is probably better off reading the novel. Where the novel stood the test of time, it is doubtful del Toro’s adaptation will accomplish the same.
