On the eve of Thanksgiving, I watched Guillermo Del Toro’s Frankenstein which sparked a reflection on the link between bodies and houses.
Mary Shelley’s classic novel follows Victor Frankenstein, a scientist obsessed with conquering death, and the monster, Frankenstein’s wretched creation bent on revenge. No other being like him exists on the planet. His anatomy is a monstrous house, fashioned by body parts sourced from fresh corpses. Considered an abomination by even his own creator, the monster subsists, isolated and devoid of love and affection.
While part of the horror canon, Shelley’s story explores what it means to be human. She takes the reader on a poignant journey with the poor creature as he discovers life with its beauty and anguish. Alone. Without any words to describe or understand his feelings.
Del Toro does an excellent job with this heartbreaking tale. There’s a scene in the beginning of the movie where Victor Frankenstein exhibits his prototype to a panel of dignitaries. Beside his macabre model, Frankenstein looks like an architect or engineer presenting a new machine or building design. The effect is shocking. Then, the viewer follows Frankenstein as he sources body parts from hangings and battlefields. And, of course, the classic scene of the lightning storm that powers life into the monster.
Actor Jacob Elordi imbues the creature with pathos, and his performance made me wonder about how our bodies are like old homes.