Have you ever watched a movie's ending that left you fuming, only to realize later that it was a brilliant twist on the classic tale? That's exactly what's happening with Guillermo del Toro's take on 'Frankenstein,' and it's sparking heated debates online—let's dive in to see why folks are upset and why it might just be a stroke of genius.
Spoiler Alert: This discussion reveals key plot points from 'Guillermo del Toro's Frankenstein.' Proceed with caution if you haven't seen it yet.
Guillermo del Toro's cinematic version of Mary Shelley's iconic 'Frankenstein' takes a fascinating detour by bumping the timeline way ahead from the book's original setting. For context, Shelley's groundbreaking novel emerged from a casual ghost-story challenge in 1816 among her, her partner Percy Bysshe Shelley, the legendary Lord Byron, and their companion John Polidori. Published in 1818, it kicked off what many hail as the dawn of modern science fiction, blending horror with deep questions about creation, responsibility, and humanity.
But del Toro's adaptation? It unfolds primarily in the 1850s, shortly after Mary's own passing. To give you a quick historical rundown: Percy died in 1822, Byron in 1824, and Polidori even earlier in 1821. This forward leap seems designed to weave in a poignant moment where the Creature—portrayed by the striking Jacob Elordi—learns to read by immersing himself in Percy's poetry collection. Imagine the irony if the Creature had picked up Mary's book instead; it might have felt a tad too on-the-nose. So, del Toro opts for Percy's works as a clever workaround. Yet, this shift cleverly suggests the story exists in a universe where Shelley's 'Frankenstein' (subtitled 'The Modern Prometheus') is already a published hit. Wouldn't that make Dr. Victor Frankenstein (played by Oscar Isaac) think twice about his reckless experiments, knowing the cautionary tale was right there on the shelves?
And here's where it gets controversial: the film closes with an on-screen quotation from Lord Byron, which has some viewers wrinkling their noses in frustration. Why spotlight a quote from Byron—friend to Mary's husband and a key figure in her social circle—instead of honoring Mary Shelley directly? After all, this is her masterpiece, born from her imagination during that stormy Swiss summer. But let's unpack this thoughtfully, because when you compare Byron's personality to the characters in the novel, it clicks into place like a perfectly assembled puzzle.
Del Toro appears to be drawing a sharp parallel between the arrogant, self-centered Dr. Frankenstein and the brooding, larger-than-life Lord Byron himself. Mary Shelley might have even based Victor's flaws on Byron's infamous traits—think of Byron's dramatic flair, his emotional theatrics, and that relentless pursuit of personal glory. It's like del Toro is whispering, 'Mary saw echoes of Byron in her mad scientist, and here's why that matters.'
Image Caption: Guillermo del Toro was likely comparing Dr. Frankenstein to Lord Byron (Netflix)
The backlash has been real—plenty of fans are so irked by skipping a Shelley quote that they've taken to social media, crafting fan-made edits and Photoshop tweaks to 'fix' the ending (check out discussions like this one on Reddit: https://www.reddit.com/r/FRANKENSTEIN/comments/1ot1w5s/iwassoflummoxedbythequoteattheendi_had/). For those unfamiliar with literary history, Byron is a polarizing icon among poetry enthusiasts. The term 'Byronic hero' often carries a sarcastic edge, describing a brooding, self-indulgent type—picture a guy wallowing in his own melancholy, maybe even using it as a charm to win over admirers. Del Toro's Creature fits this vibe in a fresh way: Elordi's towering, 6'5" frame (familiar from steamy roles in 'Saltburn' and 'Euphoria') houses a being of wide-eyed wonder, animal-loving tenderness, and poetic soul. Yet, cross him, and he's fiercely protective—he'll shed tears one moment and unleash fury the next. This isn't your lumbering, green-skinned brute; he's more like a hipster philosopher sipping coffee in a cozy bookstore, pondering life's big questions. Could the Creature embody Byron's romantic allure?
But dig a little deeper—and this is the part most people miss—and the real match is between Byron and Victor. 'Byronic' also screams immaturity and narcissism, traits Victor embodies to a tee. In del Toro's vision, the doctor is profoundly isolated, scarred by a troubled upbringing and an inability to process grief. His father's emotional neglect fuels a laser-focused drive that's all ambition and zero ethics, leaving him adrift morally. He does fall for Elizabeth (captivatingly brought to life by Mia Goth—see our ranking of her films here: https://www.slashfilm.com/1117419/every-mia-goth-movie-ranked-worst-to-best/), but his affection comes off as detached and insensitive, more intellectual conquest than heartfelt connection. For beginners dipping into these themes, think of Victor as a brilliant but broken inventor whose unchecked ego mirrors real-world cautionary tales, like scientists today racing ahead without considering the human cost.
Del Toro seems to imagine Mary observing Byron up close—his 'sensitivity' more performance than genuine—and channeling that into Victor's hubris. By slipping in a Byron quote, the director underscores the story's warning: unchecked genius can lead to tragedy. It's a nod to how Byron's influence shaped Mary's creative spark.
Image Caption: The meaning of the Byron quote in Frankenstein (Netflix)
The specific line? 'The heart will break and yet brokenly live on.' It's a gut-punch that resonates with both Victor's shattered resolve and the Creature's enduring pain. Pulled from Byron's epic 'Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt'—a sprawling poem released in installments from 1812 to 1818—it follows the wanderer Harold as he tires of his privileged life and embarks on a soul-searching tour of Europe. He's awed by scenic wonders, repulsed by wartime devastation, and wistful about history's faded splendor. If you're new to Romantic literature, this poem is like the ultimate playlist for brooding teens—full of dramatic introspection and vivid emotion, influencing countless stories of restless heroes.
Mary almost certainly pored over 'Childe Harold' before that infamous 1816 gathering; it was a massive bestseller that popularized the Byronic archetype. For all we know, Byron's blend of vanity and artistry directly fueled her horror tale—maybe even as a sly satire on his self-obsession. Del Toro's film, in essence, channels Mary's perspective: by ending with Byron, he's not sidelining her but immersing us in her world. She rubbed shoulders with the era's most brilliant (and insufferable) minds, drawing from their quirks to craft a timeless narrative (for more on how the movie tweaks the book, head to: https://www.slashfilm.com/2007771/frankenstein-guillermo-del-toro-book-changes-explained/). Including Byron as her 'muse of mockery' feels spot-on.
But here's a controversial counterpoint to chew on: What if del Toro's choice subtly elevates Byron's legacy over Mary's, even unintentionally, in a male-dominated literary canon? Or is it a smart reclamation, showing how she outshone her inspirations? What do you think—does the Byron quote enhance the film's depth, or should it have been Shelley's words wrapping it up? Drop your thoughts in the comments below; I'd love to hear if you're team Byron, team Shelley, or somewhere in between!
