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. 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 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. He had no control over when.

Victor’s father, Dr. Leopold Frankenstein (Charles Dance), a famous surgeon, was a tyrant. A cruel, envious, vicious man. 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 Victor later treat Creature 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 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,” Father 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 felt he was “less.”

Under his reign of terror, Victor and his mother had each other: “He despised us both, raven black hair, deep dark eyes, even our quiet, at times nervous, disposition exasperated him to no end.” “Mama, Mama,” he calls, and they embrace. Yet, 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. As his father rushes her off to deliver the baby. A stern father’s voice: “Victor!” Stopping him. Victor! That name. Called by a man’s voice. Forever imprinted in his mind.

“Father. Save her. Please.” His father, the famous surgeon, failed. He 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 are in the background. It’s 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. The loss of his mother created Victor Frankenstein’s 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. 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. That’s another loss, too, in Frankenstein.

Controlling Loss & Stopping Death  

No. Victor cannot accept his mother’s death. Her terrible, terrible loss. It’s 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 to Victor: “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 who 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.

And, 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 reunites with William. William’s fiancée, Elizabeth, is Mama’s spitting image. Victor’s mother “returns.”

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 Mama’s 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 his father’s 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? Has no brains? That’s what Victor thinks. Did he make a mistake? This reactivates his trauma at his father’s hands. His impatient father. 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. And, that’s not what he can give Creature, now.  

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

Elizabeth and Victor trap a butterfly together. It’s for Elizabeth. Later, she 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 Elizabeth makes one. And it isn’t Victor. Always 3 in Victor’s life. Father. Mother. Him. Father. William. Him. Victor’s not chosen. He thought he was, with Mama. Mama was his. But then she was gone. Another baby was living inside her. Another baby whose birth killed her and took her from Victor. Forever. Dead.

But. Now. She’s come back. Hasn’t she? Isn’t she his? But no. That other baby, William, has her. Again. But. Wait. This is worse. 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. (That Victor needs). But. He’s cold. Jealous. And, he can’t.

Frankenstein Becomes His Father 

So, instead, Victor is cruel. 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. As important as Creature was to bring into the world, he now casts Creature aside.

Victor becomes his father. Brutal. Cruel as Father was. Because Victor wants love. But. Elizabeth finds him grotesque. Appalling. He follows her to church. Feigning to be Father Confessor, he hopes to hear words of desire. Instead: “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? Hurt. Envy. Feelings of rejection. Never good enough. A failure. Victor became everything Father felt and hated in himself. And, now, not to feel those terrible feelings, Victor is the tyrant to control his own self-hate. His fear of failure. The thundering dissociated feelings inside.

Creature cuts himself. Now. Blood. Red. Like the Angel of Death. Red. Blood. On Victor. A memory is triggered. And, Frankenstein turns on Creature: “Don’t touch me! Don’t ever touch me!” Mother’s blood. His Hand. No. Victor can’t remember. No. Creature is for forgetting. That’s what Creature is for. But. Here it is: 

Red. Like Mother’s Hair. Mother’s Blood. Victor’s Rage. Red. For Victor’s pain. For feelings that make you go crazy. Wild. Desperate. When there’s no place for them to be tenderly heard. Victor’s crazy to control everything. To forget: Death. Loss. Love. Creature was supposed to take care of it all.

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.  

The same. Victor and Creature. Determined. To break free. To have control. Lashing out. But. Creature wasn’t dangerous. Nor was Victor. They were tender children. But they were hurt. And. Misunderstood. That makes need dangerous. 

Need. That’s what comes after birth. Victor rejects need. Hates need. Because there is no one there to care. Alone. That’s what he was after Mama died. With no one to turn to. So. There will be no death. No need. And, that “no need” turns against tenderness. But need is there. Reflected in Creature. No. He can’t see it.

Hating need makes Victor cruel. Cruel to himself. Cruel to Creature. Elizabeth comes. She’s 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. He tries to kill Creature. As he’s killed his own need.  

Creature. Terrified. “Victor. Victor. Victor.” Panicked. In the fire Victor set. Creature breaks his chains and runs. Creature calls Victor’s name. But. Understands he is alone. Just as Victor did. After he called, “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.” Yes. Forgetting isn’t healing. It’s remembering that is.

Tenderness Goes a Long Way

Tenderness is necessary. To grow. Learn. Heal trauma, loss, and hurt. That’s where the blind Old Man comes in. In the midst of war. Fear. Cruelty. Misunderstanding. The Old Man is tender. He knows. He sees. He calls him: 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. He holds small 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. Since the Old Man is blind, Creature will 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 the Old Man back. But Creature says, “I want to know who I am and where I come from.” He remembers a single word: “Victor.” And. Fire. He must leave the Old Man to find out. Because of tenderness. He can.

Yet what Creature “learns” is what severely abused and neglected children feel. What Victor feels. “I am nothing. A wretch. A blot. Not even the same nature as man.” That’s why Victor’s at war with Creature. Because both feel that. '

Abused children don’t feel a part of this world.

Can the Old Man convince him otherwise? When Creature goes back to the cabin, to save him from the wolves? That’s a hard call. Tenderness and love go a long way. But it also takes a long time not to feel: “I’m assembled from refuse and discarded dead. A monster.” Even though the Old Man says, “I know what you are. A good man. You are my friend,” Creature isn’t sure: “Friend? Friend.”

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

Why Saying I’m Sorry Heals

When the Old Man’s family chases Creature away, he’s lonelier than ever. Lonelier. Because he knows tenderness. Knows love. Acceptance. Being seen. Yet, he still can’t believe he is good. Trauma lives on in your bones. It takes more than the Old Man’s caring gestures. 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. To Death and destruction. More accusations and blame. But Elizabeth tries to protect him from Victor. And, instead of him, Elizabeth has been shot. Dying Elizabeth. Who he would never kill, as Victor charges. Elizabeth. Now he sees. She loves him.

Yes, Victor rages. Lashes out. But. 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. Of Elizabeth. Those losses set him into a war with Victor. (Which is 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 remember. And, so, Creature rages. And, rages. Creature, who feels and wants what Victor can’t, goes after Victor. Chases him down from hither to yon. Victor, fighting back, 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 now become Victor’s father. A ghost who haunts him: “Victor. Victor. You only listen when I hurt you.” Full circle to his childhood trauma. His father’s abuse. 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 brokenly until your heart is freed. And healed.