This past weekend saw the release of Guillermo del Toro’s adaptation of Mary Shelley’s “Frankenstein,” published initially in 1818 and again in redacted form in 1831. Shelley wrote the original short story, which would eventually turn into the book, while locked in a house during a blizzard with her father—philosopher William Godwin, the father of anarchism—and her future husband, the poet Percy Shelley, among others. The group decided to amuse themselves with a writing competition, and while Mary slept, she dreamt of a man creating life. Following this dream, she began “Frankenstein,” and, in doing so, invented the genre of science fiction. A work that is such a central piece of the Western canon is bound to spawn countless remakes and types of analysis. Del Toro follows a long legacy of directors who have adapted “Frankenstein” for the screen, but he brings his own brilliant, odd but nonetheless incredible eye to Shelley’s book.
Del Toro’s “Frankenstein” is a radical take on Shelley’s masterpiece, both in how the movie carries the story and in the themes it imparts on the viewer. In Shelley’s “Frankenstein,” a young Victor Frankenstein experiences the loss of his mother due to scarlet fever and is forever broken. He seeks to create life from the grief of his mother’s death. Del Toro acknowledges this, but takes a different road for the mother-son relationship. In del Toro’s “Frankenstein,” Victor’s mother is played by Mia Goth, who also plays his love interest, Elizabeth. As the mother, she is killed not by scarlet fever, but by childbirth, impressing the death upon Victor quite literally with her bloodstained hand on his shoulder. We also witness a deep conflict between young Frankenstein and his father, as Victor despises him and views him as the true cause of his mother’s death. The influence of Sigmund Freud’s Oedipus complex on del Toro’s retelling becomes apparent.
The Oedipus complex emerged with Austrian neurologist Freud, who believed that as children reach the phallic stage of development, the male infant’s desire is focused on the genital area. Rather than emerging as a sexual desire, it is a sense of curiosity towards the genital area, which results in the development of gender and its associated societal rules and dispositions. During this process, the infant begins to, within his subconscious, develop a sense of sexual connection towards the mother and, in turn, a sense of dislike towards the father, whom he sees as competition for the mother. This competition manifests itself both as hatred and anxiety. In del Toro’s “Frankenstein,” Victor is close with his mother and already hates his father, even before her death. After her death, his hatred only grows, and his interactions with his father, already having been dominated by anger and anxiety, become clearly hostile. Victor’s eyes shake and his face grows taut when they are together, and discussions of his father quickly grow negative. This notwithstanding, del Toro’s casting of the same actor for both Victor’s love interest and for his mother solidifies the Freudian message.
With these choices, del Toro has shown us that Victor’s childhood is emblematic of Freudian theory, but how far does he carry this perspective? The most classic Freudian undertone within the original novel, and one that is present in all versions of the story, is the underlying sexual politics. Freud believed that repressed sexuality was the principal problem within our society and the driving force behind much of societal function. In “Civilization and its Discontents,” Freud argues that societal growth is pushed by the redirection and repression of two subconscious feelings: the Eros, the drive of love and sexual desire, and Thanatos, the drive of death. Throughout the text of Shelley’s “Frankenstein,” there is underlying tension between Victor and his friend Henry Clerval; Victor describes, “I grasped his [Clerval’s] hand, and in a moment forgot my horror and misfortune.” The two also live together for months on end in a domestic setting, with Clerval nursing Victor back to health after his monster is created. This relationship is suppressed; Victor does not realize his love for Clerval, and it turns into a drive for Victor. He molds the creature as a male body, which Victor describes as selected for beauty. Freud believed that the subconscious is the driver of societal growth, and this extends into technology and science through Victor’s experiments.
The final Freudian element within this story, in both the movie and text, is that of projection. Freud argues that projection involves taking thoughts, motivations, desires and feelings that cannot be internally accepted and externalizing them onto something or someone in the outside world. Victor is a mad scientist who creates a projection to accomplish what he cannot: to overpower God as the creator of new life. Victor’s creation, however, goes horribly wrong, destroying him and all those around him, suggesting unrestricted projection as inherently destructive. We are taught to fear not only the creature, but the man that made him and the drivers of that man: unbridled ambition, usurping God and the unfettered pursuit of technological power. Victor projects his violent fantasies onto him, just as we project ours onto modern mixtures of techne and natura. We fear the creature, not just because of his violence, but because of what he represents. He represents mankind in a raw way, not shown through the filters of society. He is a Freudian projection of unconscious fears onto and into reality.
Del Toro pulls no punches with his Freudian imagery, embracing ideas already present in the story of Victor Frankenstein and his creature. Mary Shelley, although writing decades before Freud, wrote a story that contained deep undertones. Though Freud is criticized today—and many of those criticisms are valid—his lens provides a powerful analytical tool. The Oedipus complex is undoubtedly incorrect, but the lens of male violence predicated on an unfair desire for women contains a grain of validity. There is perhaps a point to be had that repressed feelings, whether sexual or not, may drive our society. Del Toro is not saying all of Freud is true, but he acknowledges its value while amplifying Shelley’s brilliant social commentary on science and man’s ambition.