The Maestro of Monsters is Back
Film
It feels like Guillermo del Toro has been slowly building towards adapting Mary Shelley's gothic classic, Frankenstein for years now. The maestro of monsters has made a killing off of the misunderstood monster, driven to misanthropy not by their own nature but by society's refusal to accept them. None could be more true than del Toro's Shelley adaptation which is, at its core, an interpretation more than a recounting. Literary purists may find the narrative deviations frustrating, but del Toro's Frankenstein approach of slicing and dicing through Shelley's text, picking the parts that would service his cinematic mind best, remains true to his own artistic instincts and that of Shelley's rich thematic tapestry. Of course it helps that del Toro is an aficionado for visuals, starting this film like many of his others, draped in picturesque images. The arctic, where Shelley's story ends, del Toro's begins. The Swedish ship, The Horizon, is trapped in the ice when an explosion nearby draws the attention of the crew. In the incendiary wreckage is the weak, near-death Victor Frankenstein (Oscar Isaac), who recalls his history to the captain in exchange for preservation.
Del Toro's story provides more background for the titular doctor, fueling him with rage and ego by the death of his mother and fury towards his father, a world renowned doctor, for not being able to save her. The hubris backing Frankenstein's later endeavors for warring against death, and his ultimate experiment, paint the doctor as the true monster in the story. Further cemented by his disgust and disdain for the creature he creates, brought to life beautifully by an unrecognizable and soul-baring performance from Jacob Elordi.
While del Toro's additional motives for Frankenstein are built with patience and are incredibly rewarding, he succumbs to his worst tendencies in rushing the romantic counterpart of his story. Frankenstein's requited infatuation with his brother William's fiancé, Elizabeth (Mia Goth), doesn't receive the same care and attention for a thoughtful, or even sensical, structure. Seemingly thrust together, Frankenstein and Elizabeth share a confounding forbidden affection for one another that is as confusing as it is distracting. Diverging so far from Shelley's novel might be a factor here. Elizabeth is Frankenstein's childhood friend and they eventually marry in the novel, so del Toro's creative adaptation may have stretched too thin across these changes. But when you also throw in a cobbled character like Elizabeth's father (Christoph Waltz) who is financing Frankenstein's experiment, for reasons emphasizing the downfall of man via hubris, and the supporting roles in Frankenstein feel just as pieced together as the doctor's creation. Becoming more of a disappointment than adding to the emotional package del Toro intends to deliver.
As the tale bends back from Frankenstein's rendering to the ship in the Arctic, the monster has arrived and demands to have his side of the story told as well, thus beginning a new narrative. This second act is where del Toro thrives. Finally, the misunderstood monster gets a chance to tell their side of the story, and what a gorgeous story it is. Even though it is far away from the adapted story of Shelley's, instead of making the monster a murderous machine fueled by the anger and apprehension of man, he is a curious and lost soul. Instead of Frankenstein's story carrying us through stunning productions of gothic villages, filled with the intricate designs that del Toro has become synonymous with, the creature's story takes place in the bucolic woods where he benefits from the kindness of a blind man. The frigid, sometimes grimy, natural environment the creature finds himself in, is a terrific contrast to Frankenstein's reality-a credit to del Toro's frequent cinematographer Dan Laustsen who works in concert with del Toro's vision-when they finally have their reunion, the two worlds clash in a frenzy of envy, fear, and sadness.
While del Toro's film makes a strong effort to paint the creature as an innocent byproduct of the machinations of man, it still rings true the maelstrom of themes from Shelley's novel. Nature vs. nurture, man vs. nature, or how when man tries to play god they find themselves much closer to the devil. Del Toro's story, even with its flaws that make it a much more sprawling and unfocused experience than I'm used to from his work, is still riveting. It's possible that the personal expectations del Toro had for making a perfect adaptation has caused this unwinding, not far off from Frankenstein himself. But even when the writer/director isn't at his best, he still makes an awe-inspiring display of cinematic command and effort for understanding those who are most misunderstood.
Froth
I was recently up north in Vancouver Canada for the Vancouver International Film Festival, which was an exceptional time, and I took some time in between screenings for a quick bite and a beer (or multiple) at Steamworks Brewing. There I enjoyed a seasonal delight in their Oktoberfest Märzen that perfectly fits the Fall/Oktoberfest/Halloween kind of vibes we're in right now. The Märzen was a delicious brew, filled with malty sweetness and a touch of biscuit and caramel to brighten it up. It has a toastier aroma than what I was expecting but that ended up adding a little more depth to it, which I'm never going to complain about. All things considered, Steamworks made a solid Märzen and there's no need to ask Frankenstein to build you a companion when you've got a great one poured right here.
