FRANKENSTEIN: Desperate Measures & Repetitions of Trauma

Guillermo del Toro’s Victor Frankenstein was an extremely traumatized child. He’s tormented by memories of abuse and loss that refuse to die inside him. He suffers endlessly. And, so does the creature he desperately creates to try to make his traumas go away. Of course, it doesn’t work, and Victor is caught in compulsive repetitions of his traumas, over and over and over again; reenactments that get increasingly violent and desperate. Why Victor does what he does, who Creature is to him, and how you heal from trauma are not easy riddles to solve. Because abuse repeats itself in traumatic repetitions, even when you have no idea why or what is happening.  

Frankenstein’s Childhood Traumas 

Abuse and loss. That’s what Victor (Oscar Isaac) suffered early in his life. Abuse should never happen. Loss can’t be controlled. And, when you don’t have control, control is what you want. More than anything. But let’s first understand what Victor went through at the hands of his father. His mother’s love was all he had to protect him, and to feel that just maybe, he was a lovable child and not so bad. Abuse is what happened to Victor Frankenstein. With no control over when.

Victor’s father, Dr. Leopold Frankenstein (Charles Dance), a famous surgeon, was a tyrant. A cruel, envious, vicious man. And Victor was his target. Especially since Victor’s mother, Baroness Claire Frankenstein (Mia Goth), loved Victor more than her controlling and unloving husband. He took his envy, frustration, and feelings of smallness out on Victor, the firstborn son. To say he was cruel is an understatement. Watch him slash Victor’s face for one mistake. Humiliate him if his capacity to learn isn’t immediate. (Watch how Victor later treats Creature just the same.)

Who wouldn’t be nervous with a father like that? A father, envious of the love and joy between Victor and his mom. A father, who teaches him medicine, expects perfection. A father who slashes his hands and face after any mistake. An exacting father.  A father who makes him feel never, ever good enough. A father in a large black cape. A father you can’t get away from, even when he’s dead. Victor probably wished his father dead. He didn’t know it wouldn’t free him. But the loss of his mother was unbearable: “Mother was mine.” Victor needed her to never, ever leave him.

“Mother was Mine”: Controlling Fear

“The rest of the time, mother was mine.” That’s how Victor managed his father’s abuse, and the cruel, excluding twosome that his parents made when his father was home. Victor watched as his father force-fed his mother food, dipped in blood; fed it to her with his own hands: “You’re eating for two,” he said, as blood dribbled down his horrified mother’s chin. His father was already an intruder into the safety Mother provided, the only love Victor had. Why wouldn’t he need control, to be sure he got as much as he could? Possessiveness is like that, to manage hunger and fear.

Victor, when alone, listened to his parents argue; their terrible fights. His mother was a Baroness. His father felt like a nothing. After all, he married her for her large dowry to keep his estate. Not that she wasn’t a beauty. She was. But in his own eyes, Dr. Leopold Frankenstein was “less.”

Under his reign of terror, they had each other: “He despised us both, raven black hair, deep dark eyes, even our quiet, at times nervous, disposition exasperate him to no end.” “Mama, Mama,” they embrace. Suddenly, Victor’s joy stops cold. Mama is in pain. Clutching her belly. Red. Blood. Pouring out all over Victor. His bloody handprint on her white dress. Red. Blood. Running after her. A stern father’s voice: “Victor!” Victor. That name. Called by a man’s voice. Forever imprinted.

“Father. Save her. Please.” His father, the famous surgeon, failed. Doesn’t save Victor’s mother from death. “My mother, whom I came to consider a part of myself. She who I thought would never leave, she who was life, was now dead, her eyes extinguished, her smile. Part of the earth, now permanently dark.” Love is gone. A baby’s cries in the background. Newborn William (Felix Kammerer), but also Victor’s buried child-self, Victor’s cries. Victor’s need. Now shut down.

“All of you leave.”

Needing Love but Hardening Up 

Victor started as a tender boy, quite like Creature. His father created shame. Loss created rage.

You lose your mama, the only one who ever loved you. You watch the father who hates you adore your fair-haired baby brother, William, all sunshine. And, you, Victor, have no one. There is no other way but to shut down. Harden up. Go cold. (And start to act like the father you also hate.)

It happens. He’s inside you. All those memories. The way you treat yourself. The harsh, self-hating voice that was originally his and now is yours. Haunting you. In your head. You can’t get it out.

Love isn’t safe. You want it. Victor does. He had it. He lost it. And, when he finally wants someone’s love again, Elizabeth’s (Mia Goth), she belongs to William. Just as Victor’s mother never really belonged to him.  No, she didn’t. That’s a terrible thing to know. Another loss too. In Frankenstein.

Controlling Loss & Stopping Death  

No. Victor cannot accept his mother’s death. Her loss. Impossible. What do you do when the world is now the darkest place? Love. Gone. Forever. As much as your father failed you before, this is his worst and most unforgivable failure. He could have saved her. The great surgeon didn’t.

What a weak excuse Father gives: “No one can conquer death.” That’s impermissible: “I will. I will conquer it. Everything you know, I will know. And, more.” He’ll outwit the dark Angel of Death. He’ll show up his cruel and demeaning father. Victor will surpass him. In every way he can.

“Gentlemen. Birth is not in our hands. Now, death, there lies the challenge. That should be our concern. Show that men can pursue death in its hiding places and stop it. Not slow it down, but stop it entirely.” Stop it. That is the only way around unbearable loss and grief. If anyone says it is in God’s hands, Victor retorts: “Perhaps God is inept.” God. His father. Certainly inept. Not Victor. “It is we that must amend his mistakes.” His mother’s death. “Don’t let those old fools (Father) extinguish your (Victor’s) voice.” That’s what happened to Victor. He won’t be silenced now.

With all the determination of a boy who lost his mother, Frankenstein takes desperate measures. He’ll regain a sense of control he never had. Set right an unthinkable trauma. Parts taken from dead men. The right surgical procedure. Apt understanding of the human body. Victor achieves the seemingly unachievable. He creates Creature (Jacob Elordi). Who rises from the dead. He’s reunited with William. Victor’s mother “returns.” William’s fiancée, Elizabeth, is her spitting image.

Angel. Or. Devil? A devil is the mother he can’t reach. The one he misses. The one who is. Gone.

Creature as Frankenstein’s Child Self 

Abandonment. In her Death. And, now. A Creature who won’t learn. Who takes too long. Who repeats his name only. Victor. Victor. Victor. It grates on him. Because it was a stern, Victor! Right before his mother died. Or because he, the child Victor, called “Mama. Mama. Mama.”

Yes, Creature frustrates him - to no end. He won’t learn. Refuses. Is “it” stupid? No brains. That’s what Victor thinks. A mistake? Victor made a mistake? This reactivates his trauma at his father’s hands. Creature is Victor’s child self. Creature just came into the world. He needs time. Patience. That’s not what Victor got. Not from his father. That’s not what he can give Creature, now.  

“It?” Elizabeth yells at Victor. “You call him an it?” Dehumanizing. That’s what Victor got. From Father. Elizabeth. She looks like Mama. But. Mama was love. Where has all the love gone? In Victor? His closed-off heart. (That’s how he’s protected himself.) In Elizabeth’s face? He remembers love. But. Confused. Victor wonders. Why is it not directed at him? Mama is gone.

The butterfly they both trap. Elizabeth brings it to visit Victor. He confesses a bond he believes they have. “Belief doesn’t make it true,” Elizabeth says. “Then, why are you here?” She looks at the butterfly: “Strange creature. 3 hearts. A fascinating lack of choice.” But she makes one. And it isn’t Victor.  Always 3. Father. Mother. Him. Father. William. Him. Victor’s not chosen. He thought he was, with Mama. Mama was his. Wasn’t she? But then she was gone. Another baby is living inside her. Another baby whose birth killed her and took her from Victor. Forever. Dead.

But. Now, she came back. Didn’t she? Isn’t she his? But no. That other baby, William, has her. Again. But. Wait. Even more. She looks at Creature with the love Victor wants. That Victor Needs.

A leaf. A kind hand. Creature gets from Elizabeth what she coldly denies Victor. This is not the mama he remembers. She is the mother who left him. Who leaves him hungry. Again. And again. If only Victor could give Creature the tenderness he needs. But. He’s cold. Jealous. And, he can’t.

Frankenstein Becomes His Father 

Instead. Victor is cruel. Must have things his way. Just as he tried to control Death by creating Creature, he controls Creature’s every move. Chains him. (As he was chained in terror as a child.) Humiliates Creature. Doesn’t teach him lovingly. Thinks he has no brains. Casts Creature aside.

Victor becomes his father. Brutal. Cruel as Father was. Victor wants love. But. Elizabeth finds him grotesque. Appalling.  Feigning to be Father Confessor, he hopes to hear words of desire. Instead. He hears: “Respectfully, Father, you don’t know this man. He tries to control and manipulate everything and everyone around him. Like every tyrant, he delights in playing the victim.”

But why does Victor become a tyrant? A need for control. A fear of loss. Projected self-hate. Victor became everything Father hated in himself. Never good enough. A failure. And, this is Victor now. A tyrant. To control his own self-hate. Fear of failure. Thundering dissociated feelings inside.

Creature cuts himself. Red. Like the Angel of Death. Red. Blood. On Victor. “Don’t touch me. Don’t ever touch me.” Frankenstein turns on Creature. Mother’s blood. The memory is now triggered. No. No. Victor can’t remember. No. No. Creature is for forgetting. That’s what Creature is for. But.

Red. Like Mother’s Hair. Mother’s Blood. Victor’s Rage. Memories. His pain. Feelings that can make you go crazy. Wild. Desperate. When there’s no place for them to be tenderly heard. Tenderly. There is no tenderness. He’s crazy to control everything. The world. Death. Loss. Love.

Wanting to Forget Loss & Need 

There was tenderness. The first time Creature said, “Victor.” Tender excitement. Their Hug. As Creature put his arms around Victor. A mother’s tenderness he lost. Could he not bear it? That tenderness. Too afraid it would leave him again? As Mama did. Elizabeth too. Hardening up in defense. Needing to forget. Hurting Creature. Making Creature scared. Angry. Like Victor feels.  

One and the same. Victor and Creature. Determined. To break free. To have control. Lashing out. But. Creature wasn’t dangerous. Nor was Victor. Tender children. Hurt. And. Misunderstood.

Need. That’s what comes after birth. It’s need Victor has rejected. Need he hates. Because there is no one there to care. Alone. After Mama died. No one to turn to. So. There will be no death. No need. The “no need” turns against tenderness. But need is there. Reflected in Creature. No. 

Hating need makes Victor cruel. Cruel to himself. Cruel to Creature. Elizabeth comes. Tender to Creature. Kind. She reaches out. They touch hands. Creature calms. He learns Elizabeth’s name. “Eliz-a-beth.” Creature isn’t “stupid.” He’s a child, like Victor was, who needs patient love. But Frankenstein can’t see that. He can’t see himself. Tries to kill Creature. As he’s killed his own need.  

Creature. Terrified. In the fire Victor set. “Victor. Victor. Victor.” Panicked. He breaks his chains and runs. Creature calls his name. Understands he is alone. Just as Victor did. “Mama. Mama. Mama.”

Victor wants to forget. Has tried to forget. But. That isn’t a solution. Forgetting does not heal. When the Old Man says: “Forgive. Forget. That is the true measure of wisdom,” Creature says: “I cannot forget what I cannot remember.” But. Forgetting isn’t healing. It’s remembering that is.

Tenderness Goes a Long Way

Tenderness goes a long way. It’s necessary. To grow. Learn. To heal trauma. Loss. And, hurt. That’s where the blind old man comes in. In the midst of war. Fear.  Cruelty. Misunderstanding. He sees.  

Spirit of the Forest. Creature feels the old man’s tenderness. Watches him with his granddaughter. Teaching her. Patient. As Victor wasn’t with him. He’s moved by the Old Man, who isn’t scared of him. Wants to help him. Yes, Creature has feelings and thoughts. Fear and abuse shut those down. Creature is a tender soul. Holds rats and mice in his hands. Makes offerings to the family. Who extend small kindnesses. And then, the Old Man stays alone for the winter. Creature ventures in.

“It’s just you and I now, Creature. Just you and I.” He and the Old Man become friends. And, since the Old Man is blind, Creature can read to him. Read? The Old Man teaches him. Shares his books. His food. His time. His kindness and love. Gentle. Creature learns. Creature loves him back. But Creature says, “I want to know who I am and where I come from.” He remembers only a single word: “Victor.” And. Fire. He must leave the Old Man to find out. Because of tenderness. He can.

But what Creature “learns” is what severely abused and neglected children feel. What Victor feels. That’s why they’re in a war with each other. Because both feel: “I am nothing. A wretch. A blot. Not even the same nature as man.” Abused children don’t feel a part of this world.

Does the Old Man convince him otherwise? When he goes back to save him from the wolves? That’s a hard call. Tenderness and love go a long way. But. “I’m assembled from refuse and discarded dead. A monster.” Old Man says: “I know what you are. A good man. You are my friend.”

“Friend? Friend.” Yes. A good man. Not worthless. Or. Bad. What does it take to believe that? 

Why Saying I’m Sorry Heals

When Creature is chased away by the Old Man’s family, he’s lonelier than ever. Lonelier. Because he knows tenderness. Knows love. Acceptance. Being seen. But he still can’t believe he is good. Trauma lives on in your bones. It takes more than the Old Man. Longer. To heal those bad feelings.

Creature decides to demand one thing from Victor. A companion. For his loneliness. He returns to William and Elizabeth’s wedding. Death and destruction. More accusations and blame. But Elizabeth. Dying Elizabeth. Who he would never kill as Victor charges. Elizabeth. She loves him.

Yet. Is Victor the monster, as Elizabeth accuses? As she dies. Yes. And. No. It’s a war inside him. War against his feelings. And, his needs. War against love. War with Creature who signifies it all.

 Loss. Creature’s loss of Victor. Elizabeth. Those set him into a war with Victor (Victor’s war within himself. With his father. Against remembering loss.) Creature says: “The miracle is not that I should speak, but that you would ever listen. If you will not award me love, I will indulge in rage.”

Listening means remembering. Victor can’t. And, so, Creature rages. And, rages. Creature, who feels and wants what Victor can’t. He goes after Victor. Chases him down from hither to yon. Victor tries to kill him. Over. And. Over. Again. This time: to keep his feelings and needs dead.

But. As Creature won’t let up, he’s become Victor’s father. A ghost who haunts him: “Victor. Victor. You only listen when I hurt you.” Full circle to his childhood trauma. The abuse he reenacts with Creature. It’s either Victor is his own father. Or, now, Creature is. Abusers don’t die easily inside.

Until?  Until Victor says what his father couldn’t: “I’m sorry. Forgive me, my son. And, if you have it in your heart, forgive yourself into existence.” Creature is Victor. Victor is Creature. “And, thus, the heart will break. Yet live brokenly on. (Lord Byron)” Brokenly. Only until it is freed and healed.