Queering Del Toro’s Creature Features

On Frankenstein (2025), monsters, comforts and chili.

Feminist literature has long involved stories of creatures: a sometimes tragic narrative of a misunderstood monster, freak, alien, or some other non-human being whose appearance sparks fear in strangers, leading to them being shunned and/or exiled from society. Donna Haraway discusses these themes in her essay A Cyborg Manifesto: Science Technology, and Socialist Feminism in the Late Twentieth Century.

While Haraway makes strong points in favor of the cyborg as different from some common oedipal and heteronormative tropes that filter their way into traditional creature stories, I think it could also be argued that the concept longing for connection and community in a world that rejects you serves as very queer jump off point in this form of literature. Haraway describes her analysis of the cyborg as made possible by the breakdown of boundaries between human and animal, animal-human and machine, and the physical and the non-physical. I would add that a modern look at creature literature, or “creature features” in all media, explores the existence of space within these boundaries: To me, the cyborg serves as the initial creation of the modern creature feature, where we view life as existing outside of the gender binary, or any binaries of life and non-life, human and machine, physical and non-physical.

Someone who I think illustrates this is Guillermo Del Toro (a freak in his own right). Few interpret the misunderstood monster more clearly than Del Toro. In his films it’s abundantly clear that the real monster, or villain, in the story is the one that enacts barriers on the creature. In fact, Del Toro’s creatures are usually only violent in reaction to the violence being enacted upon them, and they often receive severe punishment for this behavior. His narratives are always heartbreaking: he crafts creatures with such a softness that goes mostly unnoticed by the hardness of the world they exist in (we’ll come back to “mostly”). In his latest film, an adaptation of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, viewers quickly empathize with Dr. Frankenstein’s creature: so clearly a child in the body of an adult, The Creature is hated by his creator for not being able to learn language quickly, even though Dr. Frankenstein is seen repeatedly verbally and physically abusing him. Sent out into the world on his own, he is perceived as a monster by passersby, who shoot at him instantly, forcing him into the shadows.

Keeping true to Haraway’s critiques, Del Toro’s creatures often end up falling in (very heterosexual) love, or receiving (very parental) love. However, in opposition, usually Del Toro’s creature romances continue to exist outside of the “norms” of society. These people may be Black, disabled, women-in-pre-feminist-eras, or just weirdos. In his attempts to humanize the monster, or bridge that gap between human and non-human, he not only gives the creatures someone to love, but a form of shared community, not one focused on the differences in existence, but one that involves seeing the other as whole, even if only temporarily. He doesn’t create monsters that long to be “normal” or “return to dust,” as Haraway writes. Del Toro, instead, creates monsters who want to taste what genuine kinship, care, and love feels like and desire for more. His depictions of these moments of shared understanding are gripping—for a second, you fear for the worst—that there will be a misunderstanding, that there won’t be an opportunity to bridge any gaps. But for a brief moment we’re able to witness the creatures experience the joy of connection to the other. We see the creature learn self acceptance: be it either in discovering who they really are or where they came from, or in accepting that the way they relate to others is perhaps "outside of the norm" by society’s definition. It’s these moments that make a Del Toro creature feature feel special: he’s a romantic at heart (as am I), but in creating romances that exist at the margins of norms, Del Toro is able to speak directly to queer existence.

Creature features feel like butterflies in cocoons, or cats huddled up together to sleep. They become creature comforts; they feel like curling into oneself, honing in on the core of the being. They are acknowledgements of presence, that existence is never here nor there but everywhere, in many forms. They remind us that nothing is ever normal, and push us to challenge our ideas of normality. At this time of year, where family time may start to feel overwhelming, I humbly suggest engaging in creature features like Frankenstein when being home starts to weigh on you. Let this movie, or any of his other films, remind you of the comfort that comes with self-acceptance and living your truth regardless of societal norms. Let them remind you of how powerful we become when we challenge society’s norms. And, perhaps, find yourself beginning to enjoy Del Toro’s commitment to goo: where there could be blood, Del Toro films often instead features a slime-like goo, a sticky, congealed substance that a creature is born from, or that ends up covering a character’s face, or shoe, or hand, or some other large surface. See this goo as a representation of a middle state: not here or there, but something/somewhere else: in between death and rebirth, comfort and discomfort, the human and the non-human.

Pair it with: Fish Chili

Nothing says comfort like chili, and while it may be unexpected, adding fish to this white bean chili combines sea creatures with spice and warmth in a way that will leave you pleasantly surprised.

Recipe based off of Kelli Foster’s Creamy White Bean Chili

INGREDIENTS

• 1 onion, diced
• 2 stalks celery, sliced
• 1 bell pepper, seeded and diced
• 5 cloves garlic, minced
• 4 cans white beans
• 2 TB olive oil
• 2 TB sriracha
• ground cumin
• dried oregano
• salt
• chili powder
• black pepper
• 1 box vegetable or chicken broth
• 1 cup of corn kernels
• 1 lb cod-like fish, cut into 1-in pieces
• 1 cup spinach or swiss chard
• 1 lime
• Fresh cilantro, for topping

INSTRUCTIONS

Start by adding the onion, celery, bell pepper, and garlic to a large bowl. Then drain and rinse all four cans of white beans. In a large pot on the stove, heat 2 tablespoons of olive oil over medium heat until it shimmers. Add the onion mixture and cook until the onions are translucent, 5 to 8 minutes.

Add the sriracha, cumin, oregano, salt, chili powder, and black pepper to the pot. Cook until fragrant, about 1-2 minutes, then mix in the white beans and broth. Bring the mixture to a simmer over medium-high heat, then reduce the heat to a simmer and cook until the mixture thickens, about 30 minutes.

Transfer about 2 cups of the chili into a blender. Blend until smooth, about 30 seconds, then return to the pot. Simmer for about 10 more minutes, until the chili is slightly thickened. Add the corn kernels, fish, and greens. Stir to combine.

Once the fish is cooked through and the greens have slightly wilted, remove the chili from heat. Mix in the juice from 1 lime. Taste and season with more salt as needed, and serve with lime zest and fresh cilantro.