The Modern Prometheus
The above title was the secondary ‘or’ name for the far more memorable and catchy Frankenstein, written by one Mary Shelley in 1818. To say that work and gothic sci-fi has stood the test of time would be an understatement given the at least 60 film adaptations alone, and its endless inspiration throughout all of global culture. It’s entirely apt that there should be a regular rebirth or reanimating of the tale to be embraced by new generations, perspectives and indeed technology.
Which brings us with a hop, skip, and an operatic guttural roar to the gothic master supremo Guillermo del Toro’s adaptation Frankenstein (2025). Of all the genuinely amazing aspects of this film, one that doesn’t happen on screen is the fact it has taken this long for del Toro to get around to making it. So many aspects and themes of it are at the very core of everything he has ever made, especially finding the humanity in something where we have collectively been told there is none (especially via gaslighting by fear), the beauty in flaws, the fulfilling life force in the creation of something and the belief that empathy is the fabric that holds us together, as without it we are utterly doomed. He was born to make this film, and from comments he’s made, has been trying to make it for the past 30 years, and to spark new life into his favourite book of all time.
It is inevitable that each adaptation, like the very best of any sci-fi or horror will be marinated in the time of its gestation, making it all the more potent for the audience of that time, and ultimately updating the warnings of certain sectors of society (worryingly distinctly male) to want to play God, with ramifications that could burn everyone.
Such an ethos of sociopathic behaviour and profound cruelty, which is at the heart of this rather majestic adaptation, itself deftly showing that maybe just because the organ can be made to move again, doesn’t mean something is ‘alive’, and I don’t mean the ‘monster’, I mean the creator. There is the actual dead, and then there is those who walk among us who are distinctly dead inside, having dehumanised all around them to balance that forlorn dark internal vacuum.
Sugaring the pill of this human malaise is such a splendour of craft, writing and performance that del Toro has curated together in a sterling main cast of Oscar Isaac (Viktor Frankenstein), Jacob Elordi (The Creature), Mia Goth (Elizabeth), Christoph Waltz (Harlander) and Felix Kammerer (William Frankenstein), all of whom are clearly inspired by everyone and everything around them, giving their all to every moment and scene.
And what is around them is pure lavish and lush costumes by Kate Hawley, gorgeous production by Tamara Deverell, stunning full scale sets by Shane Vieau, equally sumptuous cinematography by Dan Laustsen and a luminescent and epic score by Alexandre Desplat, all combining in perfect synch to what is undoubtedly one of the best and gothically beautiful films by Guillermo, it is pure art, artistry and storytelling in perfect sync. There is nothing about this production that doesn’t radiate pure affection for the source material and decades of commitment to that love.
Elordi having to go through 10 hours of makeup prior to shooting every day feels like the tip of the iceberg with the profound sense that everyone involved felt they were on the cusp of achieving, and such belief is clearly entirely contagious. He may be hidden under layers of makeup and prosthetics, but you only see humanity, both good and bad.
Isaac on the other hand may not have had to endure the 10 hour prep, but he is no less captivating. He has said that his performance was inspired by rock stars like Bowie and Jagger, but I had the profound sense of influence of what are effectively modern day omnipotent sociopathic tech-bros who are obsessed by longevity ‘tech’, transhuman beliefs in that science can make us immortal, and by ‘us’ I mean them, the elite rich, having absolute disregard for any and all traits that define us as human. Viktor could easily be rocking up to a bro Hubris & Folly Conference alongside Bryan Johnson, Thiel, Musk, Altman, Bezos and Page.
The film is an adaptation, and some aspects have been adjusted from the book. I haven’t read the original text, and having learned (my housemate had recently read it) what has been removed, I felt no sense of loss, such is the power of what remains, the depth and detail of the overall effect is by no means slight. The subconscious darkness of what can motivate some people to do evil things, shines through as a warning to us all.
It is both grand, majestic in scale and horrifyingly personal in the topics of bereavement, in how people cope, or more importantly don’t when people are changed by loss. Added to that are themes of nature vs nurture, in that what we are born into forms our behaviour, rather than any belief in what we are born with. The Creature is not cruel; he is needlessly made cruel.
It would be wrong to say that this is the definitive film version of the book given the elements that have been reworked, and there should be joyful anticipation for any other versions that will happen further down the line, but it is unmistakable that this is a stunning creation across the board and deserves to be seen by everyone.
In a strange extra tragedy to the reality of it all, and maybe the real subliminal monster, despite all credit going to Netflix for funding the film with a $120 million budget (it looks twice that), it will only have a limited release in cinemas, where it truly needs to be experienced and do justice to its epic scale, as in the case I was incredibly fortunate to see a screening in the Royal Festival Hall as part of the BFI London Film Festival. This film deserves such grandeur.
Having said that, it will be screened on Netflix from 7 November, so find a friend with the biggest home system, and there is an exhibition for the film Frankenstein Crafting a Tale Eternal running from 17 October–9 November at The Old Selfridges Hotel in London.
10/10
Frankenstein is on limited release from 17 October, and streaming on Netflix from 7 November. Tickets to the exhibition are free and can be booked from here.