In his Frankenstein film review, Chris Harrison calls Guillermo del Toro’s take on Mary Shelley’s classic a “visual spectacle” that still falls short.
Guillermo del Toro’s Frankenstein is a re-imagining of the iconic story, shot with the same level of painstaking care that Dr. Frankenstein lavishes upon his laboratory work. However, it’s a bit too long, and is held back by a script that lacks subtlety and at times doesn’t seem to trust its audience.
The film opens with Frankenstein’s monster ripping through an expedition to the North Pole as he hunts down his creator, shrugging off bullets and tossing aside the crew like ragdolls, before being delayed temporarily by falling into the frigid water. It feels less like something out of a horror film and more like a big-budget action flick (as is the case with much of the film’s physical conflicts). Meanwhile, the doctor finds time to tell his entire life story to the captain of the ship.
The film is split into two parts, with Dr. Frankenstein (Oscar Isaac) and his creation (Jacob Elordi) each narrating a portion, as they tell their stories in front of the very same captain (what an unexpected emotional burden that must be on him).
The doctor’s origin story goes all the way back to his childhood, as the young Victor grows up in his father’s mansion. The accomplished, and demanding, doctor is played by Charles Dance with his usual gravitas. It never quite feels necessary, nor is it especially entertaining, and things don’t pick up until we see the doctor as an adult, presenting a prototype for what would later become his defining creation to a room full of wealthy intellectuals.
Despite a bit of an odd accent choice – it’s meant to evoke British aristocracy, but at times feels more like Stewie Griffin – it’s here where Isaac’s Dr. Frankenstein absolutely lights up. Like any obsessive, he comes to life when sharing his passions (and delusions) with the people around him. The scenes of him tinkering and experimenting in his laboratory are absolutely exquisite. In a montage that shows him building the monster, there’s no dialogue, and there doesn’t need to be any. Isaac communicates everything the audience needs to know with just his eyes, pouring over every detail of his work as he caresses his equipment in a visually striking lab built to his exact specifications.
Elordi is very good as Frankenstein’s monster, too. The design is a unique take on the famous creature, tall and long-limbed (he’s built like an NBA stretch-five), and his purple-ish skin and patchwork design (a nod to the many corpses he’s comprised of) are sort of a Mecha Frieza-meets-The Nightmare Before Christmas aesthetic, and it’s an effective one.
But the most striking thing about Frankenstein is the way he’s played by Elordi. Despite his stature, his strength, and his capacity for terrifying violence, the creature is played with a sense of childlike wonder. He is, after all, new to the world, made up of dead soldiers though he may be, and some of the film’s best moments are him seeing things for the first time. (I never thought I’d see Frankenstein’s monster joyfully splashing in water, but it’s lovely and affecting.)
At times, though, he feels like a wounded animal, afraid of his surroundings as he comes to slowly understand the world around him. And eventually, he is justifiably afraid, as he is constantly mistreated by the doctor, whose growing jealousy – his brother’s wife Elizabeth (a charming and gentle Mia Goth), who he chases for years, shows him compassion – leads to abuse and neglect. Before long, it’s clear to anyone who’s watching that the doctor is the real monster, but the film goes to great lengths to turn that subtext into text, saying it verbatim over and over.
Eventually, the monster escapes from the doctor’s tower (by sliding down a pipe, away from an approaching explosion, like he’s Nathan Drake) and the lumbering giant’s journey of self-actualization begins. It’s emotionally resonant (and he becomes surprisingly erudite by the film’s end) but drags on a bit, especially as he gets closer in his pursuit of Frankenstein. Unfortunately, the ending feels a little bit convenient and not quite fully earned, at least from the perspective of one of the characters.
While some aspects of the film are more effective than others, the visuals are nothing short of phenomenal. The color red pops up in most scenes, and looks stunning every time, whether it’s Elizabeth’s dress, a splash of blood on a stone walkway, or one of the various apparati lying around Frankenstein’s lab. The lab, too, is impressive, befitting of the legendary mad scientist, a sort of steampunk monstrosity often bathed in warm light from huge, severe-looking windows. Even with the occasional dull scene, it’s never for a moment dull to look at, and several shots remain fresh in my mind after walking out of the theater.
Frankenstein is a fresh take on Mary Shelley’s classic, and an absolute visual spectacle that demands to be seen on the big screen, but it never quite lives up to its promise, even with some strong performances by a talented cast. There’s a great movie in there somewhere, but it falls short of that level.
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