‘Frankenstein’ review: A gothic masterpiece

Guillermo del Toro’s contemplative adaptation of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein is one of the director’s most significant triumphs.

Guillermo del Toro has never been one to shy away from adaptation. Even films like Crimson Peak and The Shape of Water, which haven’t been direct adaptations of novels or comic books, have proudly worn their inspirations on their sleeves. And in much of his work — from Cronos and Hellboy to Pinocchio — Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein has been an undeniable presence.

The looming specter of death and the rebellion against a creator that brings life yet offers no meaning. The only real surprise in the director adapting the novel for film is that he didn’t do it earlier, although it should be noted that he has been trying to bring this version to life since 2007.

Frankenstein begins just like the novel — a futile North Pole expedition led by an Ahab-esque sea captain (Lars Mikkelsen) finds the nearly dead Victor Frankenstein (Oscar Isaac). They try to nurse him back to health, but something now stalks them across the Arctic ice—cue flashback.

Of monsters and madness.

Young Victor (impressively played by Christian Convery) spent his early life trapped between his cruel, uncaring father (Charles Dance) and his supportive but withdrawn mother (Mia Goth). When his mother dies, he blames the inadequacy of his surgeon father and the medical profession as a whole.

The resulting preoccupation with curing death quickly becomes his sole focus. By adulthood, he finds some success with reanimating individual body parts for short periods of time, which gets him expelled from medical school, but he finds a wealthy benefactor in Henrich Harlander (Christoph Waltz).

Access to resources only makes his obsession more malignant. However, it finds a rival in Victor’s growing interest in Elizabeth (Goth again), who is both Harlander’s niece and the fiancée of Victor’s younger brother William (Felix Kammerer). By the time Victor manages a successful reanimation, he’s too emotionally compromised to navigate the reality of his creation (Jacob Elordi).

Del Toro abandons subtlety for righteous fury. It works.

Guillermo del Toro’s Frankenstein is one of the more straightforward adaptations Shelley’s novel has ever received, at least regarding structure. However, the director always has an eye for the underdog and he appears determined to use this film to correct misconceptions that have arisen about the story over the years.

Isaac’s performance as Victor does not show the character in a positive light. He is a madman, like Icarus clawing everyone down with him as he fails to reach the sun. Likewise, Elordi is not some creature but a child struggling to connect with the father who cast him aside.

This element isn’t exactly absent in the original novel. However, some modern viewers couldn’t understand that point through anything short of someone looking directly into the camera and saying, “Victor is the actual monster.” So del Toro does just that, albeit to tearjerking effect. By the time the film has entered its second half, Elordi has taken center stage as the film’s tragic hero. The actor has made a name for himself in recent years, but what he accomplishes under del Toro’s tutelage is nothing short of extraordinary. There is a quiet rage in del Toro’s screenplay that would falter under many actors, yet Elordi manages to succeed.

The bottom line.

The character of Elizabeth also receives her due. The most significant changes del Toro makes to the original text revolve around Goth’s character. Elizabeth now possesses far more intensity and agency, more than just a tragic love interest. Goth dives headfirst into the material and gives her best performance yet. Isaac shines when he needs to, but smartly evades the spotlight when he doesn’t, and Waltz and Mikkelsen manage to smooth out bits of exposition that would be a chore otherwise. Even beloved character actor David Bradley has time to give what may very well be the greatest performance of his long and decorated career.

The decision by Netflix to eschew a traditional release is, in many ways, a detriment to the film. Multiple people in my screening (at the only theater in my state that was allowed to play the film) booed the Netflix name as it flashed across the screen. In many ways, they were justified. The small screen fails to do the film’s sheer beauty justice. But at least they’ve given del Toro a massive budget, which he seems to know exactly how to handle.

Del Toro has done plenty of period pieces in the past (heh), but he’s never had the resources to do one this effectively before. Kate Hawley’s costumes and Tamara Deverell’s production design are breathtaking and beautifully captured by Dan Laustsen’s cinematography. Alexandre Desplat finds quiet whispers in chaos and intimacy in sweeping landscapes. This is, quite simply, one of the greatest adaptations of one of the greatest works of English literature.

Frankenstein streams on Netflix starting Friday, November 7th. Watch the trailer here.

Images courtesy of Netflix. Read more articles by Brogan Luke Bouwhuis here.