Frankenstein: Deconstructing the Creature

"Some of what I will tell you is fact. Some is not. But it is all true."

Oscar Isaac's Victor Frankenstein begins his tale with these words, and I think they sum up Guillermo Del Toro's film nicely.

This 2025 version of Mary Shelley's novel is my new obsession, and I'm not alone. We're in the 2nd week of its Netflix release and it is still #1 on the platform. 

I needed an outlet for my thoughts concerning this adaptation, and particularly to deconstruct the artistry and themes of the story.  Films like these come rarely and when they do I feel a need to ring out every last drop of meaning and detail and thought from them, as if it were a life source. The experience is similar to viewing a particular painting that captures your mind and soul, and you can't look into it deeply enough. Or hearing a song you wish you could absorb into your veins. 

This will contain many spoilers, so consider yourself warned.

Perhaps the backdrop of 2025 helps to elevate what is so poignant about Del Toro's "Frankenstein". In a world that (from my perspective) is advancing beyond what was thought possible and simultaneously losing the creative spark of genuine art and poetry, this film holds a mirror to the former and breathes life into the latter. 

It is November 19th 2025 and the Netflix release (after a brief and limited release in theatres) was on the 7th, and I've viewed it already three times. The first was pure emotion and enjoyment, not articulating what I saw but absorbing it. The second was capturing the small details and dialogue I missed the first time, which fleshed out my experience. The third was to intentionally seek out the intricacies of the artwork. 

Comparing it to other adaptions and even to the original work bores me. What I want to relish is both the obvious and the concealed elements of Del Toro's version. I want to view the painting with you and share what it is showing me. 

As I write this, I already realize I will need to break this into multiple parts if I'm to sufficiently explore all of my points. In this part I will touch on the film's themes and design.

One of many things I find the film does so well is contain a magnitude of themes and questions without ever feeling overwhelmed, aimless, or scattered. It also doesn't seek to answer the questions, because humanity is perpetually seeking the answers and no one has found them yet.

What makes us human? Is death a curse or a gift? Just because we have the capability of playing God, does that give us the right to? When our technology advances past morality and ethics, what then? Should we keep stretching the limits of our technology despite what history tells us about our talent for destruction? Does delaying death conquer suffering? Is the passing on of generational abuse and trauma inevitable? Not to mention all the questions surrounding experiments and consent, nature vs nurture, capitalism, war, greed, and religion. The list is not exhaustive; in fact its a testament to the original work how many questions and themes it invokes. 

There is a strange comfort in the reminder that we are all asking these questions together, and always have been, and none of us have the answers. These topics are full of variables, shifting perspectives, grey areas, and impossible scenarios. Somehow, Del Toro has been able to capture that in one film, and not even by asking any one question directly. 

Some of the more obvious details in this version are the misunderstood monsters, the visuals inspired by Catholicism, and the father-son/parent-child relationship. 

The sets, colours, make-up and costumes tell us many stories within the story. A massive Medusa carving in the lab, the sculptures of the Greenman on the farmer's home, even images of an octopus - or a Kraken - in the ship captain's cabin: these details remind us of the fantastical nature of the story, while also drawing attention to misunderstood or targeted "monsters" of myth & legend. 

Victor states "it is finished" upon completing his work, just before the sun is clouded over and lightening heralds the storm needed to bring his creation to life. In the story of Jesus' crucifixion, his last words are "it is finished" followed by an earthquake and darkness. 

The crucifix imagery of the creature, its body primed for regeneration, with arms outstretched and even spikes alluding to a crown of thorns brings to mind themes of resurrection and the divine. The Father and the Son. Death and suffering creating new life. Humanity conquering death. Or perhaps simply a crude interpretation of the Christian God's greatest miracle; a grim reminder that our flawed versions cannot compare. 

The wound in the Creature's side, the wrappings around his waist, hands, and face, all allude to a resurrected Christ. The wound to Jesus' side was to prove he was dead. In this case, the bleeding wound proves that the Creature lives. 

At many points, the story connects us all in our shared humanity: our birth against our will and consent, our parents whom we did not choose, our parents' mistakes or blatant abuse that shapes our identity and our perspective of the world, continuing generational cycles seemingly against our will or awareness, and our longing to be a part of something; to be loved and accepted and validated. 

Colour coding is an artistic tool I enjoy very much, as does Guillermo Del Toro. Using colour to tell a story and connect characters and themes is not new, but the use of it in this film excites me to no end. The most obvious colour theme is red - introduced by Victor's mother. Her costume is almost entirely red, the most red anyone wears at one time in the film. In a particularly haunting shot, her long red veil spreads out behind her in the wind like a stream of blood. Red is blood, and blood is life. 

Victor's father and of course Victor himself are surgeons - a profession marked by blood. Birth is marked by blood. Death, depending on its cause, can be associated with blood. When Victor's pregnant mother begins to hemorrhage, she grabs herself in pain, and her hand touches the blood. She then grabs Victor, her hand moving from his hand up his arm to his shoulder, then his face. We see the blood making this trail up his arm, ending in bloody fingerprints on his cheek. 

Victor is pictured afterwards with either a red scarf or red gloves: a visual reminder that his mother and the trauma of her death have been carried with him throughout his life. The only other character who is accessorized with red is Elizabeth, portrayed by the captivating Mia Goth. First it's a red umbrella standing out amidst the black umbrellas in a rainy, busy street. Then it is a red beaded necklace with a crucifix that she even wears on her wedding day, alluding to her faith and time spent at a convent. 

Connecting Victor's mom to Elizabeth is no accident. In fact the more Victor desires Elizabeth, the more red appears in her costume - culminating in a dress with red pattern, a hat with red details, carrying her folded red umbrella when he professes his desire to her. After her refusal, the only red she keeps is her crucifix - and then, tragically, her own blood. 

Mia Goth also portrays Victor's mother, Claire, further cementing the connection between the two. 

Guillermo Del Toro says that white signifies death, which I found interesting since I wouldn't consider that a common interpretation. But knowing that's how he views it, it adds a layer to the intentional additions of white in the movie. The mother's casket is white, and of course we have Elizabeth's breathtaking wedding dress (as well as William's white suit and the white dresses of the guests, foreshadowing the bride and groom's tragic deaths). Many of the scenes take place in snow. In one, an old man informs the Creature, "snow makes the world clean and new". Death brings life. The natural cycle of our world, one the Creature defies by his very existence. 

Black is also prevalent, and connects Victor's father to the Creature and then Victor himself. Victor's father gives the impression of a looming shadow, one his son grows up in and forever feels consumed by. Victor sheds more and more black from his garments and gains more colour the closer he gets to achieving his goal of creating life. The Creature clothes himself in black, eventually adding more layers until he is a towering, intimidating figure obscured by fur and shadows, quite literally chasing Victor. And Victor, ironically, gains more and more black when he begins to abuse his creation, his son, in an eerily similar way to his father, and even loses the red - his mother - entirely for some time. 

In fact, visually we are shown that Victor begins to morph into the Creature himself. Black, layered, limping, bleeding, broken, beast-like. He even replaces his own mutilated leg with a prosthetic one, alluding to the jumble of body parts that make up his creation. 

Blue and gold/yellow connects Herr Harlander with his niece Elizabeth and her fíance William (Victor's younger brother). Green is very much Elizabeth's own colour, and the more infatuated Victor becomes with her the more green is incorporated into his wardrobe. 

Purple is only given to Elizabeth's costume and to the Creature's makeup, connecting the two characters. Purple also fills the interior of Elizabeth's carriage. 

Elizabeth's costumes are a highlight (shout-out to the talented Kate Hawley). Her blue dress was inspired by x-rays, her green dress incorporates blood cells and malachite, and her shawl features the blown-up pattern of a moth. All her costumes were heavily inspired by beetles and butterflies. The character is fascinated by all things insect, which endeared me to her as a keeper of creepy crawlies myself. 

In fact, the film and the source material speak to me in that specific way - as someone who loves things society deems unlovable, and is made to feel freakish for it. The reaction I experience when certain people hear that I keep reptiles and bugs and rats was reflected to me in Victor's reaction to Elizabeth showing care and concern for his Creature. People harshly judge a heart that loves the unloved.

The childlike and simple joy of nature was captured many times over in this adaptation. Elizabeth's love of insects, her curiosity of the Creature, the Creature's introductions to animals and berries and trees and water and snow. It is healing to see the Creature's impulse reaction to everything that is simply existing: kindly, nonjudgemental, and curious. He is not disgusted by the mice or scared of the deer or repulsed by the mud. He does not overlook the dead leaves or the discarded bones or the running stream; he beholds them all. 

The cycle of life and death and the notion that one needs the other to exist is a theme woven throughout. It is a truth that Victor, despite his genius, cannot accept due to the trauma of losing his mother. He cannot accept that her death was simply that - a death, her time. He must blame his father for failing her. He must rage against death to the point of "defeating" it. The great irony is that his mother dies in order to give life, in the form of his younger brother. 

A greater irony is that Victor himself causes the deaths of many. He is involved in Harlander's death, he directly kills Elizabeth, he is responsible for his brother's death, and in a way for all the deaths caused by his Creature: the farmers, the sailors, and the wedding guests. In the end Victor is even responsible for his own demise. He admits "in seeking life, I created death." 

The farmer says the snow brings new life. The plants die and are born again in Spring. The earth requires the cold months of "death" in order to create new life. 

The farmers/hunters shoot the deer not because they hate the deer but because they need to live. The wolves kill the sheep because they need to live. Death gives life. 

In a fascinating way, the Creature - an embodiment of death - has an innate desire to give back, too. His existence defies life, but he finds ways to contribute to the lives around him: procuring firewood and building materials for the farmers, fixing their sheep pen, reading to the old man, feeding berries to the deer, providing a safe space for a family of mice to rest, and in the end breaking the ship and her crew free of the ice. 

On the other hand, the Creature is also an embodiment of life, and kills multiple men and wolves throughout the film - only ever in response to pain or fear, but killing nonetheless. Death begets life, life begets death. 

The question of What Is Life permeates the story, too. An impossible question, but one we all ask anyway. Del Toro offers a possibility - not The answer, but an answer. What if life is just to live? What if existing is enough in of itself? What if humanity's destiny isn't to "conquer" anything, but to observe and appreciate? What if our only "purpose" is to simply be? 

What if instead of burdening our offspring with our hubris, our ego, our expectations, our careers, our hopes, our desires, and our fears, we instead appreciated them for what they are: sacred creations with individual perspectives and experiences and feelings and ideas; not belonging to us but a mirror for us? What if we relished in their milestones, no matter how seemingly small or far apart, whether it be a first word or a graduation? What if instead of insisting on passing down the burdens of our parents, we took a step back to learn from our children? Admiring the leaf, splashing in the water, holding the beetle. 

What if children weren't a reflection of us but a mirror for us - an opportunity for us to learn and grow? And what if we, parents or not, decided to look at the world through a lense of curiosity and wonder instead of greed and entitlement? 

Victor follows the path of many. He rejects his father's burdens and internalizes hate and anger toward him, but without realizing it begins to abuse his son the same way he was abused. The generational cycles continue, even into the Creature who proclaims to his creator: "You only listen when I hurt you!" 

It is in the coming together of both their stories, and in the father finally setting aside his ego and his pain to listen to his son, that the cycle is broken. The son can forgive the father regardless of whether the father deserves it or not. The father experiences genuine remorse and empathy and can love the son for simply existing. The Creature suggests that now, by Victor dying and the Creature living, perhaps they can both be human. 

Part Two to follow.