Frankenstein ending explained: Does the creature survive the final confrontation against Victor?

Guillermo del Toro’s Frankenstein is a 2025 American Gothic science fiction film that reimagines Mary Shelley’s timeless novel with poetic horror and emotional depth. Written and directed by del Toro, the film stars Oscar Isaac as Victor Frankenstein, Jacob Elordi as the Creature, and Mia Goth as Elizabeth, alongside Felix Kammerer, Lars Mikkelsen, Christoph Waltz, and Charles Dance. The film opened in limited theaters on October 17 and will be released globally on Netflix on November 7.

Every generation gets its own version of Frankenstein, but few have dared to approach the story with as much reverence and reinvention as del Toro. Known for blending the fantastical with the tragic in Pan’s Labyrinth and The Shape of Water, he treats Shelley’s tale as sacred text. 

“I’ve lived with Mary Shelley’s creation all my life. For me, it’s the Bible. But I wanted to sing it back in a different key — with a different emotion,” del Toro told Netflix Tudum.

His interpretation transforms the iconic monster into something holy, a “patron saint” of the misunderstood.

The monster lives on: Guillermo del Toro’s bittersweet ending

Netflix’s Frankenstein concludes on a hauntingly hopeful note that redefines the relationship between creator and creation. After a tragic series of deaths — including Elizabeth’s — Victor Frankenstein dies alone in the Arctic, pursued and broken by his own obsession. But unlike many versions before it, this Frankenstein allows the Creature to live.

In Mary Shelley’s novel, the Creature swears to burn himself alive after Victor’s death, a gesture of remorse that closes the story in despair. Del Toro, however, diverges: his Creature is immortal, incapable of dying because of Victor’s experiments. As he kneels beside his creator’s body, the Creature forgives him — a reversal of the power dynamic that defined their story. Victor, once a godlike figure, dies pleading for mercy, while his “monster” shows compassion.

The ending feels quintessentially del Toro — tragic yet tender, monstrous yet divine. Rather than focusing on revenge, Frankenstein becomes a meditation on identity, loneliness, and the human desire to be seen. “Mary Shelley’s masterpiece burns with questions that only monsters can answer,” del Toro said, and his adaptation honors that. The Creature’s survival reframes the ending as a statement about endurance — that even in rejection, life persists, and in suffering, empathy can bloom. It’s a quietly revolutionary finale that elevates the misunderstood monster into something almost saintly.

A tragic reimagining: Recap of Frankenstein

Frankenstein begins with grief — Victor’s desperate bid to reverse death after losing his mother. His experiments in reanimation succeed but unleash a being he cannot control. The Creature, intelligent yet lonely, finds fleeting humanity through Elizabeth, who sees in him what Victor never could: innocence. Their connection gives the story its emotional center, echoing del Toro’s fascination with beauty in monstrosity.

But Victor’s jealousy poisons that tenderness. When he discovers Elizabeth with the Creature, he tries to kill him — and in the chaos, Elizabeth is fatally shot. Her death seals Victor’s descent into guilt and madness. He hunts his creation across continents, driven by vengeance and self-loathing, until their confrontation in the Arctic ends both their torment — though only Victor’s life.

Through it all, del Toro infuses his world with color and symbolism. Victor’s recurring vision of a burning angel — once divine, now skeletal — becomes a metaphor for his fall from grace. Each death, each act of violence, brings him closer to the truth he cannot face: that the real monster is the man who could not love his own creation.

Guillermo del Toro’s Frankenstein transforms a familiar tragedy into a story of forgiveness and rebirth. By letting the Creature live, del Toro reframes Shelley’s cautionary tale into something deeply human — about empathy, redemption, and the fragile hope that even the damned can be saved. It’s not the death of Frankenstein’s monster we remember, but his survival — a symbol of all who are feared, misunderstood, and yearning to be loved.