In a detailed and remarkably candid discussion released online by Netflix, celebrated filmmaker Guillermo del Toro and acclaimed actor Oscar Isaac engaged in a wide-ranging conversation about their anticipated joint project — a new interpretation of *Frankenstein*. The exchange not only served to promote the much-awaited collaboration between two master storytellers but also illuminated the profound ways in which their Latin American heritage shaped the emotional backbone and thematic direction of this reimagined classic.
From the very beginning of their partnership, del Toro revealed, the two artists found themselves profoundly attuned to one another’s experiences and values. Reflecting on an early dinner meeting, the director remarked that one of the first points of resonance between them lay in what he called their shared “Latinness” — that deeply ingrained cultural identity that encompasses family, faith, and heightened emotional expression. He explained that within Latin families, the figure of the father wields a uniquely potent significance, casting a shadow that influences the moral and emotional development of younger generations in intricate ways. Isaac readily agreed, succinctly summing up this notion by observing that the patriarchal element remains exceptionally powerful within Latin culture — a dynamic that, while sometimes overbearing, also gives rise to complex interpersonal tensions and dramatic emotional registers ripe for cinematic exploration.
Del Toro nodded affirmatively, elaborating on how the notion of patriarchy manifests differently when interpreted through a culturally specific lens. He underscored that the pronounced dramatic intensity often associated with Latin storytelling — the rich vein of melodrama and the deeply human struggle of ignoring, or even being blind to, one’s own flaws — bears a distinctively Mexican sensibility. To illustrate this, he referenced *La Oveja Negra* (*The Black Sheep*), a 1949 film by the Mexican director Ismael Rodríguez starring Pedro Infante, the revered symbol of an older cinematic era’s machismo masculinity — a figure comparable to Clark Gable, though expressive through the heightened emotional codes of Spanish-language cinema. In drawing on that archetype, del Toro provided Isaac with a powerful creative tool to interpret Victor Frankenstein’s complex masculine energy.
Inspired by Infante’s emotional physicality, Isaac incorporated subtle traces of the actor’s sweeping gestures and commanding posture into his own portrayal of Victor. He recounted, for example, a pivotal scene where Jacob Elordi’s creature returns to request a bride — a moment steeped in tension and symbolic rejection. Isaac explained that, following del Toro’s vision, he executed a deliberate, almost imperious motion: walking past the pleading creature, gently pushing him aside with controlled authority — a moment that served as a quiet cinematic nod to the machismo-infused performance tradition that had informed his preparation.
Del Toro described these creative choices as deeply intentional, rooted in elements that can only be instinctively grasped by those immersed in Latin culture. He pointed to the film’s visual and spiritual atmosphere — suffused with what he called “swarthy Catholicism,” a term evoking the earthbound mysticism, ritualism, and guilt-driven piety so characteristic of Latin religious tradition. For him, Catholic pageantry, with its operatic intensity and juxtaposition of beauty and suffering, reflects the emotional extremes that define his version of *Frankenstein*.
Isaac seized upon this interpretation, observing that the project’s emotional depth also emerged from a shared experience of being outsiders. He reflected on his own life trajectory — from his early years moving between countries after emigrating from Guatemala to navigating an entertainment industry where Latino performers often find themselves constrained to narrow roles. This sense of existing outside the cultural mainstream profoundly shaped both his artistry and his approach to Victor’s obsessive pursuit of excellence. He described how that personal history instilled a relentless drive: the conviction that success could only be attained through surpassing every expectation, striving not just for adequacy but for perfection, whatever the personal or emotional cost. This introspective perspective, Isaac noted, informed his portrayal of Victor as a man possessed by ambition, desperate to affirm his worth yet ultimately consumed by his creation.
For del Toro, Isaac’s energy and lived experience made him the natural choice to embody a revitalized version of Victor Frankenstein — a character who, in the director’s words, must exude a combination of swagger, sensuality, and stylistic charisma. Del Toro explained that his decades-long dream of adapting Mary Shelley’s masterpiece reached its clearest expression when he realized that this version of Victor need not fit the traditional British or Anglo archetype. Instead, he sought to reclaim the character through a distinctly Latin lens — an act of cultural ownership and self-definition. On set, he would joke, yet also emphasize with sincerity, that it was no coincidence that Victor was portrayed by “Oscar Isaac Hernández,” underlining the deliberate infusion of heritage into the film’s core.
Isaac deeply resonated with this notion, reflecting that the production itself felt like an act of cultural reclamation. He humorously observed that a European filmmaker would never have approached the material in quite the same way — not with the same theatrical passion for grand design, monumental sets, and emotionally flamboyant direction. He chuckled recalling del Toro’s spontaneous creative cues, such as when the director would call out for “the Maria Cristina” — a term referring to the classical telenovela technique where an actor dramatically walks away to internalize emotion before turning back in a heightened display of feeling. Del Toro deliberately incorporated this flourished movement into *Frankenstein*, blending gothic atmosphere with a style of Latin melodrama rarely seen in Western literary adaptations.
One such “Maria Cristina” moment came during a climactic encounter between Isaac and co-star Mia Goth, when del Toro instructed him to stride past the other character, pause, and pivot back with theatrical inevitability — embracing the visual and emotional grammar of Latin cinema within an otherwise gothic framework. The moment, both men acknowledged, represented a synthesis of their artistic backgrounds: the decorum of classic horror fused with the emotional rawness of melodrama.
Reflecting with affection, Isaac mentioned how del Toro once told him, “You’re making this Mexican boy very happy” — a heartfelt statement from a director who, as a child, had revered *Frankenstein* and who now found himself reimagining the tale through the lens of his own heritage. For del Toro, this collaboration felt like the culmination of artistic identity and personal history beautifully entwined. He concluded by articulating a philosophy that has guided his career: whenever people ask what, exactly, makes his films Mexican, he simply replies, “Me.” Laughing warmly, he explained that an artist cannot deny the essence of who they are or the cultural forces that shape their creative impulses. Every artistic act, he insisted, inevitably carries the imprint of its creator’s origin and soul.
*Frankenstein* is currently showing in select theaters and will be available for worldwide streaming on Netflix beginning November 7. The adaptation stands not only as a bold cinematic reinvention of a timeless story but also as a luminous celebration of identity, artistry, and the enduring power of cultural perspective in the evolution of global storytelling.
Sourse: https://gizmodo.com/guillermo-del-toro-and-oscar-isaac-want-frankenstein-to-speak-to-latin-american-culture-2000680330
