eginning with a prelude in 1857 in the furthest reaches of the Arctic, a ship becomes temporarily stranded in the ice as they attempt to reach the North Pole. The crew, anxious to get back to St. Petersburg, wants assurances, but the austere captain (Lars Mikkelsen) insists that they continue on without rest or appeasement. They’re all momentarily distracted when an explosion is spied in the distance, prompting them to investigate, where they find a wounded man and an oversized, growling, human figure that tosses sailors to and fro like rag dolls, slaughtering six of them effortlessly. The injured stranger, Victor Frankenstein (Oscar Isaac), explains that the creature (Jacob Elordi) cannot be killed and will stop at nothing to gain revenge against its master. “I made him!”

As Victor narrates the events leading up to his current condition, a new intertitle appears – “Part I: Victor’s Tale,” which chronicles young Frankenstein’s upbringing with his cold, stern father Leopold (Charles Dance), and his cheery, lively mother. Victor experiences disheartening tragedies, including repetitive cruelty at the hands of Leopold, who demands that his child become a doctor – a surgeon – to carry on the reputation of the family name. And so, by 1855, he’s off to college, where he single-mindedly studies and lectures with the aim of re-animating deceased flesh – of bringing a corpse back into the realm of the living. “No one can conquer death.”

Since it follows the basic ideas behind the Mary Shelley novel, it’s not much of a shock when Frankenstein assembles a person from separate cadaver parts. This may be a fresh adaptation, with all of the flair that auteur Guillermo del Toro brings to his productions, but there’s little mystery or wonder to the proceedings. It may deviate from the typical imagery of a green-skinned, black-suited brute with bolts in his neck, or the traditional sequences of grave robbing for specimens, but the changes aren’t necessarily for the better, nor are they meaningfully altered. The prelude, in particular, features a towering abomination snapping bodies like twigs and hurling seamen about with such nonsensical strength (and regenerative capabilities) and an obscene disregard for physics and practical sensibility that it appears comical and unconvincing – quite a shame, considering the obvious interests in anatomy and musculature and internal bodily systems, all components that should have lent themselves to realism, not hyperbole.

It also dwells on a love story involving Victor’s brother’s fiancee (Mia Goth), though this is somewhat trivial in the face of reenergizing dead matter. The violence and grisliness (thanks to improved makeup and special effects throughout the years) have been amplified as well, but these also don’t make the picture superior to any significant degree. The additions and substitutions provide modest amusement, but many tend to merely stretch out the runtime; are all the details intended to elaborate upon Victor’s story or the monster’s?

As it turns out, “Part II” is the creature’s tale, which means that the narrative continues on, changing the perspective to be from that of the misunderstood beast, who must learn to thrive on his own in a brand new world full of unanticipated dangers. It’s here that the script introduces modestly original ideas, with Frankenstein’s creation exhibiting a sudden, spontaneous, unbelievable intelligence and humanity that were previously unseen, contributing to his further adventures in the wilderness (with a wealth of CG animals) – and a mastery of the English language, including reading, which seems impossible since his tutor is a blind man (David Bradley). In this interpretation, the monster shares a good deal more with Edward Scissorhands than the ill-fated, violence-prone entity portrayed by Boris Karloff way back in 1931 – and exhibits much less of the metaphors and lessons about playing God, the nature of good and evil, comparisons to Adam and Lucifer, and humankind’s predilection for hatred and fear of the unknown (and of superficial differences).

Fortunately, the costumes, locations, set decoration, lighting, use of rain/fog/mist, music (by Alexandre Desplat), and other visual ingredients are superb; del Toro is, if nothing else, adept at translating his partly nightmarish, partly enchanting vision to the big screen. The creature’s design is less impressive, however, as he resembles the godlike engineers from “Prometheus.” And the decision to touch upon James Whale’s 1935 sequel simply adds too many tangents to a picture that is noticeably overlong. By the time it circles back to the prelude events, even a satisfying final confrontation and conclusion (neither of which fit with the Frankenstein character as he was depicted up to this point) can’t save the film from its many shortcomings.

– Mike Massie