Frankenstein: On Fatherhood and Forgiveness
by Jasmine Edwards
Frankenstein (2025) is not so much a film as it is a gradual, graceful walk through a gallery. Strolling through sumptuous scenery, billowing costumes, and endless literary and artistic references, director Guillermo del Toro’s latest is truly a visual masterpiece. It is an amalgamation of adoration, a tapestry stitched together from parts of things del Toro loves and appreciates in his own life.
The Creature's (Jacob Elordi) prosthetics, wig, and makeup harken back to Caliban AKA John Clare in Penny Dreadful (2014 – 2016). Then, borrowing from his own work, del Toro revisits the striking red and white contrast of blood on snow that comes from Crimson Peak (2015). He studies the complex nature of a father and inhuman ward such as in Hellboy (2004). He shoots dazzling towers and immense ships. Perhaps these are a reminder of our own smallness in the vastness of industrialism, yet they are reminiscent of Pacific Rim (2013). Gamers, as well, may notice particular shades and textures on the red and gold angel which resemble the character Higgs in Death Stranding 2: On The Beach (2025); del Toro himself played the role of Deadman in Hideo Kojima’s cinematic Playstation game.
Furthermore, Frankenstein ensures its props and set pieces are not merely decorative. Each carries heavy symbolism, such as the load-bearing statue of Atlas in the background of the Frankenstein family’s home. Elizabeth Lavenza (Mia Goth) wears bandage-like sleeves on her wedding gown as a nod to Elsa Lanchester in The Bride of Frankenstein (1954). She also interacts with a still life consisting of fascinating memento mori objects, including a peach, skull, and The Three Ages replica (a stunning recreation of the 15th century Allegory of Transience by Michel Erhart) by Southern California based sculptor Alfred Parades. Parades additionally designed, sculpted, and painted the anatomy box replica shown in numerous sequences with young Victor as he discovers more of the secrets of the human body.
Such devotion to craft is what audiences have come to expect from Guillermo del Toro. Because of this attention to detail, Frankenstein also carries with it all of the emotion of a patron’s visit to a museum. Art, after all, is up to interpretation—although an artist always hopes to convey their own lens.
At its core, Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein novel criticizes the hubris of men. Del Toro does not shy away from this theme by any means. However, his take on the monster centers far more on the father and son, creator and creature relationship. Indeed, the entire film focuses on the different dynamics Victor Frankenstein (Oscar Isaac) experiences throughout his lifetime: his own parents, his brother, the Creature, as well as the lover who spurns him. There is an exquisite art to telling so many tales across so many bonds.
However, the script can be too heavy-handed at times. Not trusting its audience to understand every nuanced emotional response, the film shows a great deal through breathtaking cinematography . . . and then tells everyone exactly what or how to feel. In some instances, such as in Victor’s histrionic monologues, this makes sense. He is pretentious and superior, often talking down to those around him. But in other scenes, over-explanation of internalized emotions negates the impact almost entirely.
Still, it’s refreshing to see an adaptation so faithful to its original text. Guillermo del Toro modernizes Shelley without losing any of her original intentions. A beautiful, eloquent monster is Guillermo’s specialty. Here, he helps the audience fall in love with such grace and tragedy in every single frame. See Frankenstein in theaters if possible—in the dark and in the presence of so many other audience members—and allow it to move you just like a painting or a sculpture would in a crowded gallery.