Frankenstein
Introduction
It is interesting on the number of parallels that you can draw between the protagonist Victor Frankenstein (Oscar Isaac) in the new English film Frankenstein with Guillermo Del Toro’s previous venture Pinocchio. Both Victor and Pinocchio are essentially the same individual in different worlds, being at the receiving end of their father’s wrath at a very young age, something that would invariably shape their future personalities. For Victor, it is about striving to take up medicine just like his father who doesn’t miss an opportunity to discipline him along the way. In a scene, you see him passing on his generational trauma by hitting him on his face with a stick, simply because Victor failed to recall a medical definition that he had previously learnt. It must also be noted that Victor remains extremely close to his loving mother who eventually passes away during childbirth. But the difference of behavior that Victor’s father exhibits towards his younger brother is as clear as day and night – he is kinder to William, leaving Victor with a sense of angst, something that forms the basis the emotional core of the drama. And a subtext makes us question on whether our creator is our God, and whether the creator holds the power to transfer the generational trauma to future generations.
Story & Screenplay
Based on the 1818 Gothic novel titled ‘Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus’ by Mary Shelley, one of the fascinating aspects of Frankenstein remains its characterization that touches upon a variety of themes along the way. For instance, Victor after his mother’s death suddenly finds himself to be lonely and grieving, being distanced from his father and perhaps living a life of solitude. It must also be noted on how angst-driven he remained, wanting that validation from his father while also aspiring to bring a cure to death (a motivation being the death of his own mother whom he was close to). In a parallel world, Victor could be Rannvijay from Animal (2023) except that the focus here shifts to his own ambitions as a surgeon. As a result, you also witness his arrogance even while presenting a case of reanimating a corpse, something that results in his expulsion from his medical college.
The themes of capitalism and greed are explored through the character of Henrich Harlander (Christoph Waltz) who wishes to use the prowess of Victor, for his own benefits. Henrich represents humanity in a nutshell, something that extends even to the presence world wherein every action remains transactional. But during this phase, you continue witnessing the loneliness of Victor who doesn’t have any of his loved ones staying with him. There is a streak of indifference or his ability to remain aloof that defines his character – something that automatically translates into unsolicited aspirations. For instance, his tryst with Elizabeth (Mia Goth) who is his brother William’s (Felix Kammerer), that makes him attracted to her probably with a streak of jealousy that he beholds for his brother. In the meanwhile, you also get a glimpse of Victor’s brilliance in reanimating an amalgation of various corpses into a tall, hefty and immortal figure referred to as the Creature (Jacob Elordi). But here again when he observes Elizabeth’s close proximity to the Creature, Victor is willing to destroy his own creation, highlighting his traits of jealousy even more.
In many ways, the Creature remains a replica of Victor, having had to undergo the same generational trauma at the hands of Victor. In a scene, you see Victor hitting its face with a stick just like his father. In another separate instance, you see him grieving while craving for a company – simply because he remains one of a kind figure without the blessing of death. Given his appearance, it is inevitable on how he would easily be secluded in the world that increasingly refrains from accepting the concept of universal brotherhood. But at its core, the Creature remains a child that is finding its feet in the world, much like the earlier phase of Victor while being marred by loneliness. Hence, you see a violent streak developing within it, even while understanding the concept of ‘hunting’.
But the difference remained on how the concept of hunting for animals is completely different from that of man, even as the writing makes you question on who the real monster actually is. It is ironic how the Creature finds acceptance from a blind man – given the latter’s inability to judge people on their looks. The bond that the duo share is filled with love, something that Victor may have never experienced in his life. Hence, it is hardly a surprise that William in a separate scene exclaims on how the real monster is indeed Victor – two contrasting perspectives to similar personalities in the fray.
There is a scene involving Victor wherein you see him playing with a ball. You witness him throwing it up in the air while catching it with his palm, even as he equates it to life and death. In his words, life is the space between the two trajectory positions of the ball, a thought that remains philosophical. And this concept is further highlighted in the final act that has philosophical undertones to it. You witness a more subdued Victor on the path of realisation while accepting his mistake. After a violent streak, you see a more accepting trait of the creature too even as they bury their differences before it is time to part ways (one with respect to his physical body). The entire sequence plays out like a metaphor on what acceptance and kindness can do to the world – even as you witness the Creature freeing the frozen ship at the Arctic circle (where the drama plays out and people are trapped), signalling his virtue of kindness, even as acceptance creeps in about his loneliness. But it is here that grief paves way for acceptance, ironically for both Victor and the Creature, even as both ascend on the horizon – one in physical form and the other in astral form. It is poetic and empathetic in many ways, summing up a screenplay that is beautiful to witness here.
Dialogues, Music & Direction
The dialogues are conversational while beholding an empathetic take with respect to the way it wishes to view its characters. This, while also accounting for the themes related to grief, loneliness and generational trauma. The BGM accounts for the varied moods in the drama. For instance, you see notes of empathy playing out as a symphony in emotional scenes that will touch the strings of your heart. Elsewhere, a more twisty undertone welcomes the protagonist’s ambitions even as he perfectly butchers a limb. The cinematography accounts for a grandeur that would have amplified even more if this film was experienced on the big screen. The production design boasts of an aesthetic that has traces of gothic design complimented with the colour coordinated aesthetics of the attire, collectively making every frame resemble a postcard. The prosthetics department deserves a huge shoutout for their impeccable work with the prosthetics of the creature.
The editing pattern is leisurely, along the viewers space to imbibe and immerse themselves in the atmospherics of the drama, without implicating fast cuts to drive the narrative. And that adds to the immersive nature of the proceedings that thrives on its characters and the ambience where the drama is set. Director Guillermo del Toro is a visionary director, and you just see the vision coming through so beautiful. The grandeur of the set design, the attires and the world is pretty much intact here, while being a sight to behold. But his real skill lies in working with flawed characters around themes of grief and loneliness, that adds an emotional edge to the drama. There is a beautiful empathetic tone that he employs here, almost choosing to view his flawed characters through the lens of empathy while retaining his poetic demeanor with respect to the narrative. And that makes this piece of direction beautiful to witness, while also leaving an impact with respect to its messaging.
Performances
The performances are wonderful to witness here. David Bradley as the blind man and Lars Mikkelsen as Anderson are vital cogs in the narrative, and both of them deliver empathetic performances at various instances in the drama. Felix Kammerer as William is a character built around the aspirational gaze of the protagonist, and he remains well-restrained here. Christoph Waltz as Henrich wonderfully explores the themes of greed and capitalism through his character, coming across as supremely competent. Mia Goth as Elizabeth is graceful and carries off her character with a sense of dignity, even while maintaining her posture beautifully. She has an amazing screen presence and she puts it to great use here.
Jacob Elordi as the Creature and Oscar Isaac as Victor are essentially the same character with similar overlapping arcs. Both are victims of generational trauma, grief and loneliness, and both have a tryst with realisation at the end. There are countless emotions of angst, violence and despair that are shared between them, even while maintaining an empathetic gaze through and through. These were complex and layered characters, and both of them manage to leave a lasting impression here – even while blurring the boundaries between a man and a monster.
Conclusion
Boasting of solid performances, Frankenstein is an empathetic take on grief, loneliness, and generational trauma packaged in a poetic gothic retelling of a classic that makes for a brilliant watch. Available on Netflix and Highly Recommended!