For the most part, Guillermo del Toro’s “Frankenstein” is a loyal adaptation of Mary Shelley’s 1818 novel. Yes, there are a lot of narrative changes — characters removed or condensed, adjustments to the Creature (Jacob Elordi), and tweaks around the frame narrative, among other things. But the essence of the story — the romantic, gothic tone, the thematic focus on life and creation, etc. — is intact, and it carries the film through gorgeous shot after gorgeous shot.
When you’re adapting a work of fiction that’s over 200 years old, however, the invitation to go meta is hard to ignore. There have been so many “Frankenstein” movies, not to mention other books, TV series, video games, Frankenstein comics, and so on, all pulling from the same legendary source material. And while del Toro’s version doesn’t break the fourth wall in any big flashy ways, it does include one subtle detail acknowledging the real-world history of the tale.
In the middle of the movie, after escaping Victor Frankenstein (Oscar Isaac), the Creature shacks up on a farm in the countryside. When all but the elderly, blind patriarch of the family leave for a months-long hunting expedition, he and the Creature become friends, with the old man even teaching him to read. Near the end of this montage, the Creature can be heard reading a particularly relevant poem — the famous sonnet “Ozymandias,” which was written by Mary Shelley’s husband, the famous Romantic poet Percy Shelley. And while this inclusion might seem like a simple nod to the author, blending the real world and the fictional one, the chosen poem is also particularly poignant for the story of the film.
Ozymandias is about the hubris of supposedly great men
If you’ve never studied Romantic poetry, or you weren’t paying attention in 11th-grade English class, you probably know “Ozymandias” best for its namesake episode in “Breaking Bad” — one of the acclaimed show’s most famous, and often brought up as a pinnacle of the modern “prestige TV” era. That episode, written and directed by the all-star duo of Moira Walley-Beckett and Rian Johnson, details the collapse of an empire and the man who built it, perfectly mirroring the themes of Shelley’s sonnet.
The poem itself describes a crumbling desert statue of Egyptian Pharaoh Ramesses II, whose Greek name is Ozymandias. The statue’s desiccated nature, combined with the surrounding absence of any other signs of the dead king’s empire, clash with the lingering inscription, which reads, “My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings; Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
Percy’s poem was first published on January 11, 1818 — just 10 days after his wife published “Frankenstein.” While the two texts were written as independents, they fit together quite well, and del Toro draws a clever parallel between the hubris of great men depicted in the sonnet and the ego-driven tragedy that Victor Frankenstein creates.
Is it paradoxical in a reality-bending way to bring the spouse of a story’s author into the world of the story itself? Yes, but come on, this is all in good, fourth-wall-breaking fun. And really, the poem just fits too well once hear it in the context of “Frankenstein.”
