Guillermo del Toro’s Frankenstein: The Domesticated Prometheus

Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein is no stranger to adaptation, having accrued countless films, books, TV shows, graphic novels and other artistic renderings inspired by the text. In just the past few years, three mainstream Frankenstein-related projects have been—or will soon be—released: 2023’s Poor Things, 2025’s Frankenstein and 2026’s The Bride! Clearly, as soon as some narratives, such as Frankenstein, come into being, they stir the creative imagination and bring forth a seemingly never-ending wave of adaptations.

The film Frankenstein, both written and directed by Guillermo del Toro, premiered on Netflix on November 7, 2025. The director had been working on the project since 2007, referring to it in interviews as his “dream project.” Del Toro stated early in his career that he wanted to create an adaptation of Shelley’s novel that was a “faithful Miltonian tragedy.” However, once the project was picked up by Netflix and entered production, he said he had changed his mind and intended to “sing [the story] back in a different key with a different emotion.”

As a long-time fan of Shelley’s novel, I was simultaneously excited and reluctant to watch del Toro’s film. When it comes to adapting any text, there is always the opportunity for a director to fail in a way far more painful than with original material. After watching the film, I found myself of two minds. As a literary purist, I always want adaptations to adhere as closely to the text as possible, deviating only when absolutely necessary. At the same time, I recognize that great art requires the freedom to reinterpret, reimagine and transform. 

Del Toro himself emphasized the importance of creative freedom in an interview about the project: “When you create a universal myth, whether it’s Frankenstein, Pinocchio, Dracula or Sherlock Holmes, the myth itself rises so far above the original material that any interpretation is equally faithful if done with sincerity, power and personality. If you think in terms of fidelity to the canon, you would be completely paralyzed.”

There are many aspects of the film that I found compelling. The costumes and set design are remarkably eye-catching and creative, particularly the striking gowns worn by Mia Goth, who is cast as both Victor’s late mother and his brother’s fiancée, Elizabeth. The film thankfully prioritizes practical effects over digital ones, with the makeup and prosthetics on Jacob Elordi, who portrays the Creature, producing one of the more accurate—albeit unusually handsome—depictions of the character. The acting, particularly Elordi’s, is also strong enough to distract from the occasionally on-the-nose dialogue.

However, a significant aspect of the film that bothered me was the nature of del Toro’s reimagining of Shelley’s story. In the novel, Victor is a beloved member of his family and community, adored by his father, younger brother William, his father’s ward (and Victor’s future wife) Elizabeth and his childhood friend Henry Clerval. Victor’s self-directed academic pursuits are encouraged by this circle, and even in the face of his self-induced suffering, he remains supported both physically and emotionally. Therefore, Victor’s decision to disregard the happy, comfortable life awaiting him in Geneva in order to pursue dangerous, unholy scientific experiments emphasizes his arrogance and narcissism.

Del Toro presents an entirely different plot and character dynamic. In the film, Victor’s father is cold, authoritarian and even abusive, forcing his son into scientific education through cruel methods. His brother William is much older than in the novel, and while he appears to love Victor, their relationship is distant. Most notably, Elizabeth is not the Frankenstein’s ward; she is William’s recent fiancée, who openly disdains Victor and his scientific pursuits. Clerval is completely absent from the narrative. Victor’s isolation and lack of adequate and sustained love thus render his actions more justifiable and further conform the story to traditional literary tropes—namely the dysfunctional family as a tragic backstory and unrequited love.

On a larger scale, del Toro’s changes simplify the complex narrative that Shelley built into her novel and, subsequently, its allegorical and mythological significance. Victor’s creation of the Creature speaks to the—notably male—Enlightenment thinkers of Shelley’s time who viewed science as a means of controlling nature and even overcoming natural law and to how dangerous Shelley believed this was. While this concept is not entirely lost in del Toro’s film, it is sidelined in favour of a familial theme.

As mentioned earlier, such changes may be made in order to adapt “outdated ideas” within a text—reworkings of concepts that no longer resonate with or are easily understood by contemporary audiences. However, the moral of Shelley’s Frankenstein is far from antiquated.

The modern world is full of men from comfortable backgrounds who choose arrogance and greed over the good of humanity, creating “monsters” of many kinds—technological, corporate and militartistic—in order to achieve wealth, fame and ego fulfillment. To take a story that is as applicable to modern audiences as it was to its original readers and conform the narrative to a more typical family drama seems creatively reductive.

The film also flattens its most infamous character: the Creature. In the novel, the Creature is shown in his pseudo-infancy to be innately “good,” exhibiting naïve curiosity, empathy and kindness. However, the cruelty and violence he experiences at the hands of humans cause him to become a calculated killer, murdering Victor’s innocent associates, William, Henry and Elizabeth, and voicing his willingness to kill thousands more in order to blackmail Victor into creating another creature—a female mate—for him. While the Creature begins Shelley’s story as a victim of circumstance, he transforms into a morally complex, tortured villain hell-bent on revenge and personal fulfillment at all costs.

In contrast, del Toro’s Creature remains a victim for most of the film. The people he kills are mostly—if not entirely—those attempting to maim or murder him, including William, in some manner, with the exception of Victor, against whom he has a reasonable grudge. Elizabeth is not killed by the Creature on her wedding night; instead, she is accidentally shot by Victor and, at her request, carried away by the Creature to die in a cave. The two develop deep feelings for one another (familial or romantic, it is unclear) during their brief acquaintance in the basement of Victor’s laboratory. 

The Creature is portrayed sympathetically enough for Victor to apologize to him for his abandonment when they come face to face in the Arctic. On his deathbed, Victor seemingly absolves the Creature of any death or destruction he directly or indirectly caused, and calls his “son” to simply live his life. Essentially, this reimagining strips the narrative’s primary characters of their complexity in favour of a morally simplified finale.

In sum, if you are a fan of Guillermo del Toro’s previous work, his take on Frankenstein will likely be an entertaining, spooky and heartstring-tugging film for you. However, fans of Shelley’s original work may be left wanting.