The air in the makeup trailer hung thick with the scent of prosthetics and ambition, a pre-dawn ritual unfolding as Jacob Elordi began his ten-hour transformation into the creature of Guillermo del Toro’s “Frankenstein.” While the film itself is a gothic reimagining of Mary Shelley’s classic, the story unfolding around the film – its nine Academy Award nominations, including Best Picture – speaks to a larger shift in how we value, and support, the painstaking artistry that brings cinematic worlds to life. It’s a story beyond the headlines of prestige and red carpets, one that reveals a delicate balance between artistic freedom and the demands of a streaming giant.
A Modern Monster, Built on Collaboration
“Frankenstein” isn’t just a contender; it’s a sweepstakes darling. The nominations for Best Costume Design (Kate Hawley), Best Production Design (Mike Hill), and Best Makeup and Hairstyling (Tamara Deverell) aren’t isolated accolades. They represent a unified vision, a testament to the long-standing collaborative relationship between these artists and del Toro. All three recently snagged BAFTA Film Awards in their respective categories, signaling a momentum that’s hard to ignore. But Deverell’s comment to Spectrum News – that she believes artists shouldn’t compete, “We are all winners” – cuts to the heart of a tension within the industry. The awards system, while offering visibility, inherently pits creativity against itself, a paradox particularly poignant when considering the intensely collaborative nature of filmmaking.
Based on the original Spectrum News report.
The success of “Frankenstein” also highlights a surprising ally in the world of big-budget filmmaking: Netflix. In an era where streaming services are often accused of prioritizing quantity over quality, the company provided what Deverell described as “the wings” for this ambitious project. “They gave us the wings, and they let us fly… within a reasonable budget,” she quipped, acknowledging the practical constraints even within a supportive environment. This is a crucial detail. While Netflix has faced criticism for its algorithms and content strategies, “Frankenstein” demonstrates a willingness to invest in genuinely artistic endeavors, allowing for the kind of meticulous detail that defines del Toro’s work. Consider that the average big-budget film spends roughly 10-15% of its budget on visual effects and makeup; “Frankenstein” clearly prioritized practical effects, a decision that demanded both financial commitment and a willingness to embrace a slower, more deliberate production process.
Ten Hours in the Chair: The Price of Transformation
The sheer physical toll on Jacob Elordi – ten hours in the makeup chair, starting at midnight – is a stark reminder of the dedication required to embody a creature brought to life through practical effects. Mike Hill’s matter-of-fact description of the process – “I can do 20 hours and it wouldn’t faze me, but to be sat on that chair…” – underscores the imbalance of sacrifice. It’s a testament to Elordi’s commitment, but also a quiet indictment of a system that often glorifies the finished product while overlooking the grueling labor behind it. This isn’t simply about discomfort; it’s about the physical and mental endurance demanded of actors willing to fully inhabit their roles, a commitment that’s becoming increasingly rare in the age of digital de-aging and CGI. The nomination for Best Supporting Actor feels particularly meaningful in this context, a recognition not just of Elordi’s performance, but of his willingness to endure the process.
Beyond Period Accuracy: A Theatrical Vision
Kate Hawley’s approach to costume design further illustrates the film’s unique aesthetic. While rooted in the period setting, del Toro pushed for a “very modern feel,” ultimately prioritizing mood and tone over strict historical accuracy. Hawley described letting go of historical constraints to embrace a more “operatic and theatrical language,” drawing inspiration from mythology, religion, and nature. This willingness to deviate from convention is a hallmark of del Toro’s style, and it’s a testament to Netflix’s willingness to support a director with a distinct vision. The result is a visual landscape that feels both familiar and unsettling, a reflection of the film’s central themes of creation, isolation, and the dangers of unchecked ambition. This isn’t simply about beautiful clothes; it’s about using costume as a narrative tool, a way to deepen the emotional resonance of the story.
The success of “Frankenstein” at the Academy Awards, regardless of the final outcome, signals a potential turning point. Will this recognition translate into greater investment in practical effects and a renewed appreciation for the artistry of makeup, costume design, and production design? Or will it remain an outlier, a beautiful anomaly in a landscape increasingly dominated by digital spectacle? The industry is watching closely, and the answer will reveal a lot about where we’re headed – and what kind of monsters we’re willing to create, and how.
