The film adaptation of Mary Shelley's "Frankenstein," directed by Guillermo del Toro, serves as a poignant reminder that even the most forsaken creations are capable of reaching out for connection. The film's narrative is built around the core theme of nourishment – offered, stolen, shared, and withheld – which becomes a visual shorthand for grounding the immortal Creature in the earth and to the fragile humans who inhabit it.
The story follows Victor Frankenstein (Oscar Isaac) as he abandons his creation, Jacob Elordi's The Creature, in a burning castle and leaves him chained in a frozen wilderness. Despite being subjected to unimaginable brutality – gunshots, dynamite, fire – the Creature is drawn to humans, peering through their windows at a life he longs to join.
The Creature's journey towards humanity begins when he encounters a modest household held together by love and scarcity. He starts to help them, gathering firewood, repairing fences, and performing small miracles of labor under cover of night. The family assumes these blessings are the work of a benevolent forest spirit, oblivious to the fact that it is a Creature who has never been shown kindness offering it anyway.
A pivotal scene showcases this transformation as the Creature sits on a rooftop, legs splayed, face tipped toward the sun as he bites into one of the loaves left out for him. The moment is brief but powerful, revealing the whole story: even the most forsaken creation reaches for connection the moment they're given something warm to hold in their hands.
Throughout the film, food plays a crucial role as a visual shorthand for connection, making it feel human. Shelley's novel highlights this theme with the Creature's earliest meals being desperate and primitive – acorns plucked straight from the tree, fistfuls of berries, icy water scooped from a stream. He learns to tend fire and realizes that it is not only good for heat but also for making food palatable.
The Creature's encounter with the De Lacey family marks a turning point in his journey towards humanity. Stealing bits of their food without realizing they are poor due to hardship, he begins to understand that his needs are not the only ones that matter. He resolves to repay them by laboring, devotion, and silent caretaking.
However, this peaceful narrative is short-lived as circumstances spiral out of control, cruelty reasserts itself, and the Creature learns – again – that humans will never see him as anything but monstrous, no matter how faithfully he tries to mirror their kindness. The film ultimately presents a bleak vision of devastation, with the Creature left starved of hope.
Despite this tragic ending, there remain small, luminous moments where food becomes something more than sustenance. A loaf left on a rooftop, bread and brandy on a table, or a shepherd's breakfast devoured in gratitude – these scenes map The Creature's only path towards humanity, however briefly he's allowed to walk it.
These moments serve as a poignant reminder that connection is made the same way it is in the real world, one shared bite at a time. Even in the darkest stories, these tender gestures can provide a glimmer of hope and highlight the power of human kindness.
The story follows Victor Frankenstein (Oscar Isaac) as he abandons his creation, Jacob Elordi's The Creature, in a burning castle and leaves him chained in a frozen wilderness. Despite being subjected to unimaginable brutality – gunshots, dynamite, fire – the Creature is drawn to humans, peering through their windows at a life he longs to join.
The Creature's journey towards humanity begins when he encounters a modest household held together by love and scarcity. He starts to help them, gathering firewood, repairing fences, and performing small miracles of labor under cover of night. The family assumes these blessings are the work of a benevolent forest spirit, oblivious to the fact that it is a Creature who has never been shown kindness offering it anyway.
A pivotal scene showcases this transformation as the Creature sits on a rooftop, legs splayed, face tipped toward the sun as he bites into one of the loaves left out for him. The moment is brief but powerful, revealing the whole story: even the most forsaken creation reaches for connection the moment they're given something warm to hold in their hands.
Throughout the film, food plays a crucial role as a visual shorthand for connection, making it feel human. Shelley's novel highlights this theme with the Creature's earliest meals being desperate and primitive – acorns plucked straight from the tree, fistfuls of berries, icy water scooped from a stream. He learns to tend fire and realizes that it is not only good for heat but also for making food palatable.
The Creature's encounter with the De Lacey family marks a turning point in his journey towards humanity. Stealing bits of their food without realizing they are poor due to hardship, he begins to understand that his needs are not the only ones that matter. He resolves to repay them by laboring, devotion, and silent caretaking.
However, this peaceful narrative is short-lived as circumstances spiral out of control, cruelty reasserts itself, and the Creature learns – again – that humans will never see him as anything but monstrous, no matter how faithfully he tries to mirror their kindness. The film ultimately presents a bleak vision of devastation, with the Creature left starved of hope.
Despite this tragic ending, there remain small, luminous moments where food becomes something more than sustenance. A loaf left on a rooftop, bread and brandy on a table, or a shepherd's breakfast devoured in gratitude – these scenes map The Creature's only path towards humanity, however briefly he's allowed to walk it.
These moments serve as a poignant reminder that connection is made the same way it is in the real world, one shared bite at a time. Even in the darkest stories, these tender gestures can provide a glimmer of hope and highlight the power of human kindness.