In Guillermo del Toro's latest cinematic venture, a fresh adaptation of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, a pivotal scene sets the tone. Dr. Victor Frankenstein, portrayed by Oscar Isaac, showcases his method for reanimating dead tissue to a group of horrified noblemen. Their reactions—cries of "ungodly" and "an abomination"—echo through the room. Yet, as is signature in del Toro's filmography, the true horror often lies not in the stitched-together creature, but within the depths of human morality itself.
The Real Monsters: War, Empire, and the Human Heart
The film quickly establishes its critique of systemic evil. The narrative introduces Christoph Waltz as Henrich Harlander, a cynical arms dealer who sees profit in the carnage of the Crimean War. He offers to supply Frankenstein with corpses, bluntly stating, "The tide of war shall deliver its bounty to our shore." This partnership highlights a central irony: a quest to conquer death, bankrolled by the very machinery of war and death.
This sequence reinforces two enduring themes in del Toro's work. First, his portrayal of authoritarian regimes and war-mongering empires as villains. This is evident in his earlier films like Pan's Labyrinth (2006) and The Devil's Backbone (2001), which are set against the backdrop of Francisco Franco's Spain, and in Hellboy (2004), which features a Nazi-Soviet alliance.
The second, more profound theme is del Toro's lifelong fascination with monsters. For him, creatures—be they demons, ghosts, or fairies—are not mere fright devices. They often serve as critiques of imperial excess or as challengers to conservative societal values. Intriguingly, del Toro's monsters are frequently more humanised and sympathetic than his human antagonists.
Monsters as Vessels for Societal Anxieties
Since his debut feature Cronos in 1992, del Toro has understood that monsters are semantic vessels for a society's deepest fears and taboos. In Cronos, the monster is born from a fear of mortality. In Hellboy: The Golden Army (2008), the wrathful Forest God represents ecological rage against urban sprawl and climate change.
This concept aligns with the analysis of English historian Marina Warner. In her 1994 book, Managing Monsters: Six Myths of Our Time, she linked the rise of monstrous fantasies to millennial turmoil, political disintegration, civil wars, and ethical anxieties around scientific advances in genetics and reproduction. Her phrase, "the manufacture of new beings," perfectly encapsulates images from del Toro's filmography: the alchemist's second skin in Cronos, the mechanical Golden Army, and, of course, Victor Frankenstein's macabre assembly.
The theme is most explicitly stated in Pacific Rim (2013). The film's opening narration declares, "To fight monsters, we created monsters of our own." The kaiju (giant aliens) and the jaegers (human-piloted robots) become narrative tools to explore climate anxiety and bridge cultural and generational divides between their pilots.
The Art and Soul of Monster-Making
Del Toro's mastery is not just conceptual but deeply technical. He studied makeup under the legendary Dick Smith (known for The Exorcist), founded his own special-effects firm Necropia in 1985, and has consistently blended practical effects with CGI to create unforgettable visuals. Who can forget the Pale Man with eyes in his palms from Pan's Labyrinth or the Amphibian Man's delicate gills in The Shape of Water (2017)?
His personal life mirrors this obsession. His Los Angeles home, named "Bleak House" after the Charles Dickens novel, is a repository of books, comics, and film props. An exhibition of this collection, Guillermo del Toro: At Home With Monsters, toured museums in 2016 and 2017.
In a companion book for that exhibition, del Toro revealed a personal key to his monster fixation: his upbringing in the Mexican Catholic tradition. He struggled with the dogma of existing in a state of grace, finding it impossible to reconcile with darker human impulses. "I felt there was a deep, cleansing allowing for imperfection through the figure of a monster," del Toro said. "Monsters are the patron saints of imperfection."
This philosophy shines through in Frankenstein, particularly in Jacob Elordi's portrayal of the Creature. His performance is noted for its gentleness and thoughtfulness, evoking a tragic, poetic soul much like Rory Kinnear's acclaimed take in the series Penny Dreadful.
Ultimately, Frankenstein stands as a testament to Guillermo del Toro's complete arsenal of skills—his visionary storytelling, his technical prowess in creature design, and his profound understanding that the most compelling monsters hold up a mirror to our own imperfect humanity.
