Why Guillermo del Toro’s Frankenstein Ending Sparks Fury (And Why the Critics Missed the Point)
Spoiler Alert: This article dives deep into the ending of Guillermo del Toro’s Frankenstein adaptation.
Guillermo del Toro’s reimagining of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein has left audiences divided, particularly over its ending. But here’s where it gets controversial: the film, set in the 1850s—decades after Shelley’s death—concludes with a quote from Lord Byron, not Mary herself. This choice has sparked outrage, with fans even editing the film to replace it with Shelley’s words. But is this backlash justified? And this is the part most people miss: Del Toro’s decision might be far more intentional—and brilliant—than it seems.
Shelley’s Frankenstein, published in 1818, is often hailed as the first modern science fiction story. Born from a ghost story competition between Shelley, her husband Percy, Lord Byron, and John Polidori in 1816, the novel remains a cornerstone of literature. Del Toro’s adaptation, however, takes a bold leap forward in time, placing the story in the 1850s. This shift allows for a poignant scene where the Monster (Jacob Elordi) teaches himself to read through Percy Shelley’s works—a clever nod to the original creators without directly referencing Mary’s own writings. But why stop there? The time jump also implies that Frankenstein exists in a world where the novel has already been written. Wouldn’t Dr. Victor Frankenstein (Oscar Isaac) have been more cautious, knowing the consequences of his actions? It’s a meta twist that adds layers to the narrative.
Now, let’s address the elephant in the room: the Byron quote. Critics argue that ending with Byron’s words, ‘The heart will break and yet brokenly live on,’ is a snub to Mary Shelley. After all, it’s her story, right? But here’s the twist: Del Toro might be using Byron to highlight the very flaws of Dr. Frankenstein. Byron, a figure notorious for his self-pitying, egocentric persona—often labeled ‘Byronic’—shares striking parallels with Victor. Both are vain, disconnected, and driven by unchecked ambition. Del Toro’s Frankenstein is a man unable to mourn, consumed by his own moral void, much like Byron’s brooding, self-absorbed character in Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage. By ending with Byron’s words, Del Toro isn’t diminishing Shelley’s legacy; he’s inviting us to see her story through her eyes, as a critique of Byron-esque figures.
And this is where it gets even more intriguing: the Monster himself could be seen as a Byronic figure. Tall, handsome, and played by the undeniably attractive Jacob Elordi, the Monster is a sensitive soul with a violent streak—a ‘sad boy’ who wouldn’t look out of place sipping espresso in a bookstore. But is he Byron, or is he Shelley’s commentary on Byron? Del Toro blurs these lines, challenging us to reconsider who the real ‘monster’ is.
But here’s the real question: Did Del Toro intentionally use Byron to mirror Frankenstein’s flaws, or is this a stretch? Some might argue it’s a reach, but the evidence is hard to ignore. Shelley was well-acquainted with Byron’s work, and Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage—the source of the quote—was a cultural phenomenon in her time. It’s entirely possible she drew inspiration from Byron’s self-absorbed hero when crafting her own cautionary tale. Del Toro’s film, then, becomes a meta-commentary on Shelley’s process, placing us in her mind as she dissects the egos of her contemporaries.
So, is the backlash warranted? Or did Del Toro outsmart us all? One thing’s for sure: this ending isn’t just a quote—it’s a conversation starter. What do you think? Is Del Toro’s choice a stroke of genius, or a misstep? Let’s debate in the comments!
