Although there has been a long slew of adaptations, parodies, and spin-offs of "Frankenstein," many fans of Mary Shelley’s famous novel were looking forward to the newest iteration by Guillermo del Toro, which just came out.

In the age of AI, gene therapy, and the modern aversion to death, the story of a scientist who gives life to a creature of his own design naturally resonates with most people. Moreover, a director who is known for his ability to craft fantastical narratives, gothic settings, and unworldly monsters seemed like the perfect fit for such a story.

What could have been a story of redemption and radical love is turned into one of violent horror and unavoidable tragedy.

But with such a tale from such a director at such a time, there was also a good chance the whole film could become an overwrought piece of woke propaganda. Would del Toro stay faithful to the source material, or would he indulge his worst tendencies and recreate "The Shape of Water" with Shelley’s basic premise?

Sadly, he opted for the latter.

Woke makeover

While showing his usual visual flare, del Toro and his writers nonetheless succumbed to transforming the romantic tale of man’s excesses and consequent fall from grace into a woke narrative of a marginalized victim suffering from an oppressive father figure. The monster is not a hideous abomination that goes on a killing spree to spite his creator, but is rather a misunderstood, sensitive outcast who deserves sympathy.

It is his creator, Victor Frankenstein, who is the real monster: Not only does he abuse his own creature, but he murders multiple people and lies about it.

In fairness to del Toro, he probably planned out the film a few years ago when such a script happily aligned with the woke spirit of the time. And he did win an Oscar for "The Shape of Water," so he can’t be blamed too much for returning to the same formula. How was he supposed to know that this would all become tedious and unfashionable in 2025?

And yet for all that, it's wrong to assume that the original novel lacked these themes entirely.

Original intent

While most fans and critics examine the science-fiction elements of the novel and the Promethean allegory of man’s creation running amok, an honest reading would show that the novel is first and foremost a Romanticist manifesto. The main character is neither Victor nor his creation but the Swiss Alps that provide the backdrop of every scene, monologue, and conversation. The main conflict is not Victor attempting to stop his monster from terrorizing his friends and family, but finding meaning and unadulterated joy in the world rendered cold and dull by Enlightenment philosophy.

Most importantly, the book’s main argument is the problem of loneliness and how it animates humanity’s darkest impulses. The movie actually deals with this idea somewhat, though the novel is fully based on it.

How else should the reader make sense of all three of the main characters (besides the Alps), who all suffer from profound loneliness? The first character to appear in the book is the ambitious explorer and scientist Robert Walton, who attempts to go to the North Pole. Besides detailing his progress to his sister in a series of letters, he also mentions his lack of a friend. This leads him to immediately take interest in the Swiss scientist Victor Frankenstein, who just happens to be in the Arctic, searching for his monster.

Frankenstein, in turn, also reveals his own introverted nature and consequent desolation.

RELATED: How Disney butchered 'Snow White' — and it's worse than just wokeness

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Even though he has good friends, a loving father, encouraging teachers, and a bride waiting for him, Frankenstein seems to reject their company. Either he feels unworthy of such friends, especially after the mayhem inflicted by his monster, or he desires full control in his relationships.

More than anything, this antisocial stance seems to be the main inspiration for creating his monster. Even though many naturally assume he was driven by glory, power, and morbid curiosity, Shelley hardly mentions any of that. Instead she details Victor’s loving upbringing and beautiful surroundings, only to have him forget all this and conduct a weird experiment of bringing a monster to life.

Then, of course, there is the monster himself, who is quite open about his loneliness and resorts to terror to have a companion. Abandoned by Victor, the creature roams the countryside, fruitlessly searching for a human being who can stand to befriend him. Long story short, this doesn’t happen, so he takes revenge on Victor for putting him in this situation.

Alone, we break

Read through the prism of loneliness, the novel makes a surprisingly compelling case not only for cultivating friendship but also for the kind of dysfunction that results from the lack thereof.

This is especially pertinent for audiences today who are forced to cope with the mass atomization of modern life.

In terms of their social life, most young people in the developed world often resemble Robert Walton, Victor Frankenstein, Frankenstein’s monster, or some combination thereof. They feel misunderstood, have few outlets for their thoughts and emotions, and respond in similar ways to the characters: They seek internet fame, indulge in darker temptations, and even lash out against a world that seems to reject them.

Much like the literary critics and adaptors who miss this larger theme in their analysis of the smaller ones that result, today's social commentators who remark on the pathologies of the youth do the same.

At the heart of all this dysfunction is loneliness. And behind the social crisis lies a spiritual crisis.

Had Frankenstein abided by Christian teaching, he would accept his limitations and work to overcome his personal misgivings of befriending and serving others. Instead of trying to build a companion for the monster, only to dismantle it in a fit of rage, Victor could have loved his creation, much as God does. Instead of the monster basing his morality on Goethe, Plutarch, and Milton — which all promote epic struggles and titanic egos — he could have picked up the much more available (and readable) Gospels, which stress forgiveness and humility.

Then again, this is Mary Shelley’s story, and she was far from a devout Christian. Similarly, del Toro is also an atheist and likely shares the same outlook on the Christian demands of friendship, virtue, and human creativity.

What could have been a story of redemption and radical love is turned into one of violent horror and unavoidable tragedy.

Created for fellowship

Still, even if such Romantic secular humanism makes for better dramatic tension and suspense, it elides the deeper truth that comes out of the story: Man is not meant to be alone.

Victor’s real crime was not his ambition or curiosity but forsaking everyone around him. It wasn’t an abusive father that led him to this (as the new film suggests) but his willful ignorance of the Father in Heaven. As such, he creates a personal hell with its very own devil.

Even if Shelley and del Toro miss this point, readers and audiences should take heed and confront the problems of loneliness and nihilism in the world around them.