There are few words more synonymous with horror than Frankenstein. The story of the gifted but narcissistic Victor Frankenstein and his misguided pursuit to reanimate the dead is arguably the genre’s most enduring tale, and its flexibility has allowed for a constant stream of fresh interpretations that has made it a favorite for budding writers everywhere. It’s been over two hundred years since Mary Shelley composed her mournful ode to parental neglect and scientific experimentation gone wrong during the volcanic winter of 1816 (the so-called Year Without a Summer), and while time has done nothing to diminish its brilliance, the lax approach taken by its countless adaptations in the years since has made the original story appear increasingly disparate. Shelley’s novel is a very different beast than what centuries worth of reimaginings have decided the stereotypical image should be, and while a few have flirted with sticking closer to her vision, none have embraced this idea better than Kenneth Branagh’s appropriately titled Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein – a flawed but nevertheless compelling film that remains the strongest adaption of horror’s greatest story.

Shelley's Original Novel Is Very Different From the Frankenstein Embedded in Pop Culture Today

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Image via Shout! Studios

Before discussing the film itself, it’s worth establishing what made the novel the masterpiece that it is. Put simply, it all comes down to subtlety. Scenes of pitchfork-wielding peasants or mad scientists screaming “It’s alive!” might make for good iconography, but they’re the antithesis of what Shelley conceptualized. Her story thrived in the quiet moments, with enigmatic conversations about the nature of responsibility and how the environment we’re raised in determines the kind of person we become taking precedence over loud and exciting set pieces. The novel may wear the façade of horror, but in reality it’s closer to a philosophical melodrama, with Shelley using the more bloodcurdling elements as a jumping-off to explore larger ideas about the human condition. It’s remarkable that its most overtly frightening sequences are left almost entirely in shadows (such as how Victor brings the creature to life), giving the story a mystical quality that reinforces the idea that what we don’t see is scarier than what we do.

By far the biggest deviation comes via the (titular?) creature. Ever since Boris Karloff donned the most iconic makeup in horror filmmaking, the preconception of the monster being a green-skinned abomination with bolts in his neck and a vocabulary that extends to just a few words has become so firmly entrenched into popular culture that it’s sacrilege to suggest otherwise. In reality, however, its literary counterpart is night and day compared to what Hollywood has told us he should act like. Shelley’s creation was not a monster but a fully three-dimensional character, boasting an exceptional grasp of language thanks to his love of Milton that proves beneficial when describing the pain and hurt he has experienced after being rejected by a world he barely understands. There’s a recurring feeling that he only acts like a monster due to Victor’s cowardice after creating him, and if he had confronted rather than avoided his problems, then the trail of bodies that eventually culminates in their deaths could have been avoided. They’re not heroes, but they’re not overt villains either, and Shelley’s unwillingness to put them in clearly defined boxes is what makes them such fascinating characters.

But such a nuanced approach proves troublesome when trying to regurgitate this story in the form of mass-market entertainment, which explains why future adaptations have downplayed its thematic depth in favor of its more accessible parts. As early as the first stage productions in the 1820s, changes were being made to increase its commercial aspects, but it was James Whale’s classic 1931 film when the general perception of Frankenstein shifted to its modern form. The monster’s characterization, the overall tone, the entire plot outside of a one-line synopsis — all different, with Whale taking the basic framework provided by Shelley and placing it into a more manageable, good vs. evil narrative. It’s important not to take this as a criticism of Whale — there’s nothing wrong with putting new twists on classic stories, and Bride of Frankenstein is one of the best sequels of all time for good reason — but its enduring impact on cinema has made it difficult for future adaptations to escape its shadow.

'Mary Shelley's Frankenstein' Is the Most Faithful Adaptation of the Novel

The creature, played by Robert De Niro, reading a book in 'Mary Shelley's Frankenstein'
Image via TriStar Pictures

It’s the fact that Mary Shelley's Frankenstein avoids this that makes it such a standout. Branagh had demonstrated a passion for adapting classic works of literature that diligently conformed to their source material with Henry V and Much Ado About Nothing, and seemingly the young actor-turned-filmmaker was keen to project this love at stories other than those originating from the Bard. As a result, he set about crafting a faithful retelling of Shelley’s novel that would adhere to her story and themes wherever possible, and while Branagh couldn’t resist making a few changes (clearly his unflinching love for Shakespeare remains unbeaten), he largely succeeded. Mary Shelley's Frankenstein was the first big-screen adaptation that actually felt true to the source material, giving it a distinctive identity that remains unique to this day.

This mindset is evident right from the word go, with Mary Shelley's Frankenstein retaining the framing device set in the Arctic Sea that all other versions disregarded (a shame, because it’s the perfect metaphor for Victor’s isolation). After Victor (Branagh) is rescued by the crew of a trapped ship, he recounts the horrific circumstances that led him to this place in the hopes it will quell the similar crazed obsessions he can see brewing in the ship’s captain. He tells of his failed attempts to play God following the death of his mother, and how he immediately came to regret his experiments after gazing upon the hideous creature (Robert De Niro) he had created. When he begins his story all the sailors believe him mad, but it doesn’t take long before they too share in his madness.

RELATED: Mary Shelley Biopic About the Creation of ‘Frankenstein’ In the Works

Although the events that follow appear similar to other adaptations — rejected by the one who gave him life, the creature embarks on a violent crusade that culminates in the murder of Victor’s bride, Elizabeth (Helena Bonham Carter) — Branagh avoids the temptation to turn things into just another cliché monster film. The themes that made Shelley’s novel such a triumph remain the focus here, with the film consistently raising difficult questions without providing much in the way of answers. Similarly, Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein also leans more into the moral ambiguity of its leads. Victor in particular comes across as a far more villainous character to the extent that audiences will end up reevaluating the long-held notion that 'Frankenstein isn’t the name of the monster.' By contrast, the creature appears as a more sympathetic figure, and his brief friendship with a blind man that is tragically cut short when his family returns is easily the film’s most powerful sequence. De Niro might sound like an odd pick, but he taps into the emotional core of the role with surprising ease, proving that Frankenstein’s creation deserves more than being labeled as just another movie monster.

But a solid cast and interesting themes mean nothing without a solid script to tie everything together, and it’s here where Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein unleashes its greatest asset — the presence of Frank Darabont on screenwriting duties. Darabont had already proven his talent for writing effective horror with films like A Nightmare on Elm Street 3 and The Blob, and after extending his skillset to directing with The Shawshank Redemption (which released the same year as Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein), there was little doubt he was one of the greatest storytellers in Hollywood too. On paper, Frankenstein’s unnatural mix of deep character work and terrifying subject matter should be a perfect match for Darabont — and thankfully that’s exactly what it was. Together with Steph Lady (who wrote the first draft), Darabont managed to craft an eerily beautiful rendition of Shelley’s novel that sacrificed none of its gothic overtones or theoretical ponderings in the name of cheap scares. It’s tremendous stuff, and reading through his script online will leave you with no doubt about why it has since achieved an almost legendary status in the horror community.

Ultimately, Branagh's Theatrical Style of Directing Clashed with the Source Material

Kenneth Branagh and Helena Bonham Carter looking shocked and upset in the midst of a crowd in 'Mary Shelley's Frankenstein'
Image via TriStar Pictures

So, what’s the problem? The issue, unfortunately, comes down to the man leading the project. Kenneth Branagh is a talented director, but subtlety has never been a technique he has had much time for, resulting in a filmography that is eternally playing at the loudest possible volume. Sweeping camerawork, luscious production design, and larger-than-large performances proved to be an excellent creative decision when he was deploying them in his Shakespeare adaptations, but when paired with material as subdued as Frankenstein, they’re a complete clash. It’s simply too over the top, with every second executed under the weight of such fervent underlining that even someone who spends the entire film scrolling through their Twitter feed will walk away with a decent understanding of what everything meant… assuming they hadn’t been turned off by the unintentional comedy, that is. Take the resurrection scene, for example. This should be a haunting moment when Victor finally realizes that his hubris has gone too far, but instead Branagh shoots it like a bombastic action sequence that feels like he paused his serious horror film to audition for the next Tarzan film (why else is he swinging around on chains with no shirt on?). It’s silly, and it undermines the entire point of doing a faithful retelling of the book.

Taken as a whole, Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein is an odd film. In many ways it’s pretty good — great even — but all of the reasons why it’s so good are because of things Mary Shelley had written two centuries earlier. Unlike his 1996 version of Hamlet, Branagh’s direction does not elevate or compliment the material in a meaningful way (if anything it does the opposite), but this doesn’t mean the film is without merit. It’s hard to deny that his intentions were anything but positive, and his rabid determination to adapt Shelley’s novel without capitulating to the demands left by his predecessors makes it worthy of commendation. For all its faults, it’s impressive just how much of the complexity and tragedy of the original story he was able to maintain, and the result is the closest we’ve ever come to seeing Shelley’s magnum opus realized on the silver screen. In another world, Darabont’s script would have been directed by a more restrained filmmaker. We don’t live in that world, and Branagh still gave a damn respectable attempt, and there’s something admirable about that.