Spoiler Warning: This article contains major plot details from Guillermo del Toro’s Frankenstein. If you haven’t seen the film yet, proceed with caution.
Guillermo del Toro has never been one to compromise on the heart of his stories, especially when it comes to his enduring movie monsters. In his long-awaited adaptation of Frankenstein, the acclaimed director puts his signature spin on Mary Shelley’s classic tale. Leaning into themes of pain, abandonment, and ultimately forgiveness, the director builds to an emotional climax centered on a pivotal act of humanity by the Creature, portrayed by Jacob Elordi. It's a story beat choice del Toro had to fight to keep in, and I'm glad he did.
The Pan's Labyrinth director revealed that one of the film’s most moving moments, a quiet beat of compassion in the final act, almost didn’t make the cut. This had to do with the film's ending, which Del Toro discussed with Entertainment Weekly:
I knew I wanted the Creature to have his only act as a human. Meaning, he reacts to love with love, he reacts to hatred with hatred. But the moment they make each other human — father and son — he comes out and he decides in a beautiful moment to say, ‘The people that attacked me, I'm gonna free them.’ And turns and pushes [the ship].
In the scene, the Creature chooses not vengeance, but compassion by helping the Danish crew that attacked him earlier in the film free their ship from ice. So, after being brutalized and rejected by the world, the Creature still decides to save those who tried to destroy him. But it’s what happens next that del Toro fought hard to include. He revealed:
And to me, how moving it was... and we were missing a shot that I had to argue with my producing partner — I said, ‘No, you don't understand, we need that shot.’ Because you're pushing the ship and looking at it for a second, that gained a lot more weight, I thought. It's a liberation. And I think that's the difference with the book. This ends in a note of possible hope.
That pause, the Creature briefly watching the ship sail away, is the emotional core of del Toro’s interpretation. Unlike Shelley’s more despairing conclusion, the Hellboy filmmaker gives his version a faint but crucial flicker of hope. And, as the film closes, audiences watch the sun rises on the Creature, and a tear falls. It’s a choice that elevates the character beyond victimhood, beyond vengeance, into something profoundly human.
That emotional authenticity was central to Elordi’s performance, which evolved organically on set, both in physicality and voice. By working closely with del Toro and voice coach Gerry Grennell, Elordi developed a voice that changed with the Creature’s emotional state. As he explained to the outlet:
The voice really comes from every incision, every memory, every different bit of flesh, every life lived, you have to build something that sounds like that.
For the Mexican-born filmmaker, whose monsters have always been metaphors for the wounded and misunderstood, Frankenstein is personal. He described directing this film as emotionally overwhelming—“the first time I’ve method-directed”—and he deeply identified with both the Creature and Victor. That investment shows in every frame, especially in the scene he fought to preserve. In the end, del Toro didn’t just reimagine Frankenstein—he reclaimed it with empathy, conviction and just enough light to cut through the darkness.
Guillermo del Toro’s beautiful passion project, Frankenstein, is now streaming with a Netflix subscription.
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