Rating: 4.5/5
Directed by Guillermo del Toro
Starring Jacob Elordi, Oscar Isaac, Mia Goth, Christoph Waltz, Felix Kammerer, Charles Dance
Rated R
Release Date: Nov. 7 on Netflix
Editor’s note: The writer attended an early theatrical screening of ‘Frankenstein.’ This article does not contain spoilers.
After 30 years of gestation, Guillermo del Toro’s long-awaited adaptation of Mary Shelley’s “Frankenstein” has arrived, courtesy of Netflix’s pockets — the depths of which defy measurement. Over the course of my study abroad in Maastricht, the Netherlands, I’ve been spoiled by the theater chain Pathé’s glut of cinematic events — namely, rereleases. That being said, seeing tickets available for “Frankenstein’s” limited release was a piece of rare luck. I went in as blind as I could — no trailers, no posters, even — and was struck, from minute one to the rolling of the credits, by the grandeur of del Toro’s vision.
Although del Toro’s take significantly condenses and sensationalizes Shelley’s original storyline, “Frankenstein” bears a decidedly literary structure: The film is divided into a prelude and two parts, with each change in location and perspective functioning almost to indicate chapter breaks. The choice is exemplary of del Toro’s considered approach, retaining the core intention of the original text while making for a brisk, palatable two and a half hours — a satisfactory, even necessary, compromise.
The film visually evokes gothic whimsy as effectively and enduringly as Shelley’s novel did in prose. Cinematographer Dan Laustsen’s work pairs masterfully with del Toro’s expected visual effects, lending “Frankenstein’s” world a tactility that separates it from its filmic forebears. Laustsen deftly tempers the source material’s inherent darkness with cheeky sight gags and digitally-assisted camera trickery. Such was the brilliance of its photography and accompanying color grade that its Netflix distribution is no doubt a disservice — this reviewer trembles at the thought of the best-looking picture he’s seen this year being most widely watched on phones and laptops.
Breathtaking, impossible vistas from titanic mountain ranges to endless ice floes demonstrate the platonic ideal of Gothic set-dressing. And even among these majestic images, del Toro’s screenplay keeps the narrative grounded. It is, however, less successful in its aims: While consistently grandiose, it liberally flattens curves in character and plot progression, often spelling out beats via dialogue without convincingly depicting these events to the viewer. As a result, major plot events — notably in the final act — leave one feeling as though they missed a few scenes.
The dialogue fares much the same. For instance, Prometheus is invoked only once in Shelley’s novel: the subtitle. In the film, however, the titan is referenced nearly half a dozen times — just in case there was any doubt about Victor’s role in the story, or the level of subtlety in the script.
That being said, “Frankenstein” is — beyond the script’s flashes of clunk — glorious in its unsubtlety and epic in both its ambitions and execution. Much of this glory is owed to Jacob Elordi’s revelatory turn as The Creature, which is undoubtedly one of this year’s greatest performances.
Rendered almost unrecognizable by superb prosthetics, his acting choices complete the transformation, triumphantly bridging childlike innocence and a bitter, agonized rage. His physicality evokes the grotesque Offspring in last year’s “Alien: Romulus,” moving as though each sinew, muscle, and bone doesn’t quite fit together. Every deliberate gesture and delivery brings the impossible, well and truly, to life. Elordi’s arrival in the second act is what truly solidifies this film as the definitive adaptation of “Frankenstein,” his warmth and plaintive innocence bringing the film a sure-footed emotional throughline compared to the other leads.
While both predictably strong, Oscar Isaac (Victor Frankenstein) and Mia Goth (Elizabeth Harlander, as well as a much smaller, cheeky additional role) are constrained by the occasionally bludgeoning script. Isaac embodies condescension and arrogance with ease, if somewhat stagily. With Frankenstein’s perspective sidelined, his later character progression doesn’t receive enough screentime to be fully compelling. In part by design, Goth’s character comes off as slightly adrift until the introduction of The Creature. Even after this moment, though, she approaches the role with a detachment that — though technically opposed to Isaac’s approach — creates a similar incongruity.
True to form, del Toro populates his remaining speaking roles with established character actors, lending the proceedings an undeniable gravitas. An always-game Christoph Waltz is the composite character Mr. Harlander, an effective — and distinctly del Toro-flavored — spin. David Bradley makes a heart-stirring impression in his brief screentime, while Ralph Ineson and Burn Gorman are welcome sights, albeit little more than cameos.
The film “Frankenstein” fares far better than the process of creation depicted by its eponymous protagonist. Del Toro imbues the story with warmth, wit, and majesty, but it’s Elordi whose presence breathes the final life into the story. Del Toro’s spectacle lumbers into the sunset as a cohesive, gorgeous totality, cemented as one of both his and Elordi’s finer works to date.
