Frankenstein
Running time: 149 minutes. October 17th at Select Theater. Netflix, November 7th.
In Toronto, Guillermo del Toro has poured his creative passion into “Frankenstein.”
Picture this: a Gothic mansion reminiscent of “Crimson Peak” combined with a striking red costume. It’s quite a sight.
As in his other works, there’s also a poignant encounter involving misunderstood creatures who are empathized with by women while trapped in a lab, featuring a massive green glass cylinder. It’s all part of the mood.
Now, action sequences—those weren’t a hallmark of Mary Shelley’s novel. It feels more akin to something from “Hellboy.” But, that’s just part of the recipe here.
Del Toro, that acclaimed Mexican filmmaker, is nothing if not distinctive. He crafts a chilling world of dark fantasy that resonates, a secret garden where every flower may be beautiful but is deadly to touch.
He’s long been fascinated by the story of “Frankenstein,” and on paper, it’s a solid match. There’s a synergy, as both he and the iconic horror tale are deeply intertwined.
However, this adaptation doesn’t quite burst with life. Sure, it’s visually striking and often charming, with moments of humor. But Jacob Elordi’s character offers a fresh take—his portrayal moves away from the legacy of Boris Karloff and other cultural icons associated with the tale.
In this version, Oscar Isaac embodies Victor Frankenstein, portrayed as a mad scientist saved by a sailor after a mishap in the Arctic. Here, the strong monsters haunt him across the icy landscape, but he finds himself a captain in Geneva, navigating a rather absurd situation.
Frankenstein shares a tragic backstory with the ship’s captain, detailing his parents’ deaths, particularly the brutalities inflicted by his father. It’s a tale of obsession that drives him to push boundaries in science.
Isaac’s portrayal of Victor is somewhat less compelling compared to Elordi’s creation. The character’s emotional volatility feels exaggerated at times, leaving one to wonder if a bolt of lightning had struck him more than once. It’s almost as if he’s trying too hard to captivate the audience.
We’re meant to side with the creatures, rather than Victor himself, but the balance between them feels a bit skewed.
Victor, with his grotesque assembly of body parts, creates his monstrous creation—an embodiment of confusion and wonder who, unfortunately, is misinterpreted as a threat. Victor’s response? He confines the creature to a dungeon.
A particularly touching scene unfolds as the creature explores his environment and interacts with Elizabeth. In these moments, the film finds its footing, showcasing genuine humanity.
Elordi’s transformation from a misunderstood monster to a caring romantic is noteworthy—it’s enough to challenge the stature of familiar portrayals like that of Bill Skarsgård.
As the narrative progresses, we see the creature narrate his own experience—his escape from a collapsing Frankenstein and a heartwarming connection with a blind man in a cottage.
While these elements align with Shelley’s original story, Del Toro doesn’t bring a fresh perspective, leading to a bit of a drawn-out return to the Arctic narrative.
Visually, Del Toro heavily leans on striking imagery. The film is filled with bloody, vibrant scenes that fit well within its 19th-century setting. However, certain special effects, particularly pertaining to fire, could have been handled better.
Despite that, the craftsmanship displayed is noteworthy. Del Toro has successfully brought numerous monsters to life, showcasing his talent. But, noticeably absent is what these creatures crave the most: a connection, a sense of love, or perhaps, just simple vitality.
