When the Monster Came Alive—On and Off Screen
When Frankenstein (2025) was unveiled, reviews described it as “a rebirth of modern horror.” But for the cast and creators, it was something more personal. This was not a simple retelling of Mary Shelley’s 1818 classic; it was a psychological and emotional reinvention that examined the intricacies of humanity in a highly tech-driven contemporary world.
Under the direction of the imaginative Eleanor Voss, the film shed the Victorian Gothic style and recreated Frankenstein’s world in a near-future world where artificial life, moral disintegration, and grief converge into one horrific reality. But the specter of the film did not limit itself to the screen. For many of the performers, the picture was a haunting portrayal of their personal struggles. For many, it meant a reshaping of their career—and their life.
The Creator: Adrian Vale’s Descent into Genius
Adrian Vale was the focal point of Frankenstein (2025) as Dr. Victor Frankenstein. Frankenstein is a bioengineer determined to bring his dead son back to life using synthetic biology. Adrian Vale was, and is, a well-respected indie film actor, and was recognized for his subdued and restrained performances. In this film, the opposite was the objective; here, it was imperative that he give up control.
During a press junket, he expressed, “I was scared”. “Victor is not just a man obsessed with science, he is a man trying to rewrite destiny. For, me, playing him was a matter of a total limit check.”
For many, this was a career-defining performance. “The intensity of Vale’s performance,” some critics insisted, “was akin to a Daniel Day-Lewis performance,” even method acting to the point of self exhaustion. During the shoot, Vale would often detach himself from the other cast and remain alone in the set of the lab. “He wanted to know what it felt like to be obsessed,” said his co-star, Mara Quinn.
After The Creation, Vale’s career shifted to offering complicated psychological roles. Six months after emotional burnout, Vale had ironically mastered the art of letting go, and in a sense, off life, much like the character he played in the film.
The Creation: Daniel Cross and the Price of Becoming the Monster
Should Vale be pint of intellect and grief, Daniel Cross, playing the Creature, was the embodiment of pain and awakening. In order to bring the inexplicably reimagined monster to life, the actor transformed in staggering ways, both physically and emotionally.
Cross opted for performance capture and minimalist makeup at first, prioritizing the emotional aspects of the role over horror. “Eleanor [the director] told me, ‘You’re not playing a monster—you’re playing a man who realizes too late that he’ll never be loved,’” Cross recounted in an interview.
The role took him to dark places. He spent nights of intense immersion journaling as “the Creature,” method writing letters to his distant Creator. It was effective—audiences wept for him. He was described as “the creature” and “a symphony of pain and purity” was used to reference his performance.
The emotional toll, however, remained long after filming. Cross described the depression and loneliness he experienced after the movie, and the embodiment of rejection for months. “It gets into your bones,” he said. “I had to remind myself that I wasn’t the monster.”
That vulnerability became his rebirth. The film made him a household name, and an icon of “empathetic horror.” He was cast in complex indie productions and a biopic. The creature may have been abandoned by its creator, but the actor who played him restored his self.
Mara Quinn as Dr. Eliza Klemens—a colleague warning Victor about his god complex—became the emotional anchor of the film. Quinn is recognized primarily for her work in romantic comedies, which is all the more reason her performance in this film received such acclaim for its seriousness. Her sequences involving moral dilemmas in the film brought the heartbreaking realism the film’s chaotic narrative required. Quinn’s performance in this role illustrates her versatility as an actress.
Quinn frequently functioned as the emotional anchor for her ensemble cast. Vale reflected, “‘Mara was like our compass. Whenever the story got too heavy, she reminded us why we were doing it—to tell a story about love, not fear.’”
Frankenstein was a first for Quinn for several reasons. “It was the first time I was recognized for my work and it was the first time I began to really advocate for something after the film was finished. I joined a campaign for ethical AI in the film industry, highlighting the need for a moral balance on the human side of technology. ‘Eliza’s voice became my own,’ she said. ‘We’re all creating monsters in different ways—it’s just a question of whether we’re willing to face them.’”
The Set That Became a Lab of Emotion: Behind the Madness
Eleanor Voss described this as “emotional experimentation.” She designed the spaces to evoke different feelings by limiting communication with technology and creating a faux industrial environment. Voss heightened and controlled the cast’s emotional response by “hiding” the Creature’s finished makeup.
To build suspense, the actors were sometimes given incomplete scripts. “We didn’t know what would happen next. It was unsettling, but it made every scene honest,” Quinn recalled.
Later, the crew diaries revealed the reason behind the film’s most intense moments, like Victor’s breakdown and the Creature’s first breath. “Those weren’t scenes. Those were reactions,” Voss explained.
Even emotional volatility can create strong bonds. Vale and Cross’s deep connection was evident. The small documentary, Becoming Frankenstein, co-produced by Vale and Cross, followed their psychological journey during the shoot and was later released on streaming services. It captured the documentary’s essence, demonstrating how the lines between fiction and therapy intersected during the shoot with recorded evidence of the laughter, tears, and late night conversations.
After the Applause: Typecasting, Reflection, and Reinvention
With success, there were also inevitable consequences. Both Vale and Cross received typecast offers, which led them to “dark genius” and “tragic beast” roles. But Vale and Cross chose to take the more rewarding risk. Vale’s work as director on the philosophical short film focused on the stillness of parenthood, while Cross played a blind poet in a minimalist drama.
Contrary to this, Quinn epitomized the film’s intent by selecting works that conveyed social messages or strong emotional narratives. When asked about her reasons for choosing to bypass blockbuster films, Quinn stated, “Frankenstein showed me that fame without feeling is just another kind of creation gone wrong.”
A year later the trio reunited at a charity screening and fans were shocked to see how closely together the trio had stayed. Cross referred to Vale as his “creator and brother,” while Vale simply replied, “We built something bigger than a movie—we built a mirror.”
The Legacy of a Reborn Monster
Frankenstein (2025) did much more than revive a classic horror film; it redefined the very meaning of the horror genre for contemporary audiences. It moved away from visceral blood and fear, and instead, focused on guilt, empathy, and the ethics of creation. Undoubtedly, the most striking legacy of the film was the transformation of its cast members to more self-aware and vulnerable artists.
For some it was the role of a lifetime to play, while for others it was a psychological exorcism. Most importantly, it was a testament to the fact that playing a monster can, at times, make you more human than ever.
Eventually, it Became Clear that Everyone was the Monster, and the Maker.
When the applauds receded and the credits began to roll, a truth lingered: the darkness within each person involved with Frankenstein (2025) had been released, and they each left the production irrevocably altered.
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