Guillermo del Toro’s ‘Frankenstein’ Tries To Stitch Together A Fractured Social And Media Landscape, But The Only Thing That Doesn’t Fall Apart Is Jacob Elordi’s Performance

Guillermo del Toro’s latest venture with Netflix, Frankenstein, like its iconic creature, doesn’t know what it is, and because of that fatal flaw, will end up pleasing no one.

I watched the film in theaters as part of a limited release before the film drops on the streaming platform on November 7. It has the budget, imagination, and stunning visuals of del Toro classics like Pan’s Labyrinth, but lacks the pace of a traditional blockbuster. I wanted my cell phone out to scroll through the parts that stretched on too long and my TV remote handy to turn on subtitles.

It’s trying to bridge the gap between the theater and your couch, but does so unsuccessfully. Consumption habits have changed too much. Modern audiences open the Netflix app daily, where new titles are pushed and promoted constantly, while it’s more and more common for people to look for what’s playing in theaters, because they honestly have no idea, and it feels like ages since they’ve seen a really good trailer.

The IP in question is just as fragmented. Hollywood has distorted Mary Shelley’s work of adolescent genius (written as part of a friendly competition with none other than Lord Byron when she was just 18) until it’s become a creature entirely it’s own, but del Toro ditches Igor and a flat-topped Frank and returns to the original novel for his script.

There will be a very clear high and low-brow divide between viewers who have read the book (or at least skimmed it like I originally did in college, before finishing it in my 30s), and those who recognize hardly any of the plot structure, which del Toro has taken plenty of liberties with as well. The Paradise Lost references will truly be lost on the audience, as will the nods to Shelley’s poet husband, Percy Bysshe Shelley, as Elordi recites “Ozymandias” in a montage of the creature learning to read.

Even the film’s structure, announcing it’s different segments—prologue, Victor’s story, and the Creature’s story feels out of place. We’re talking about theater goers who have made it through Inception, Memento and Interstellar. There’s no need to get so literal by spelling out the shifting gears or nesting stories within each other out of chronological order.

I feel bad for Oscar Isaac, who embodies the titular mad scientist (another Hollywood distortion to co-opt the name for its movie monster), because it’s his half of the movie where del Toro takes the most creative liberty, injecting the character with more cruelty than the original text does, and bogging down the pace with new or mangled storylines like a syphilitic benefactor bent on achieving immortality, or turning Elizabeth from Victor’s adopted sister turned wife, into his brother William’s fiancé for an unnecessary love triangle both men ultimately lose out to…the Creature?

The only part of the film that truly shines is Elordi’s corporeal and cathartic performance, completely transforming every aspect of his appearance, voice, and movement to embody the iconic character, and rescuing the film in a side plot that remains mostly untouched by del Toro.

The Creature’s incredibly painful and lonely journey from ignorance to revenge to forgiveness is the heart of the entire novel, and one that Hollywood has almost entirely erased in it’s retellings and regurgitations.

Where Shelley wanted to make a religious critique by having Victor abandon his creation almost immediately, mirroring a god who creates humanity and vanishes without explaining their purpose, del Toro aims to depict and then dissolve cycles of abuse. It’s a little on the nose, but does give us amazing scenes where Elordi strips the character down to pure childlike innocence.

While I expect mixed reviews from critics and audiences alike, I do think Elordi will sweep awards season, and convince audiences that they were wrong to judge his casting in Emerald Fennell’s upcoming adaptation of Wuthering Heights. He has all of the emotional depth needed to bring a gothic classic to life, even if it’s structurally flawed or goes off book.