Prepare to have your heart torn apart and stitched back together—Guillermo del Toro’s Frankenstein is not just another monster movie; it’s a hauntingly beautiful masterpiece that breathes new life into a centuries-old tale. But here’s where it gets controversial: Is this the most sympathetic portrayal of the Creature we’ve ever seen, or has del Toro gone too far in humanizing the monster? Let’s dive in.
Netflix has unleashed del Toro’s long-awaited adaptation of Mary Shelley’s immortal classic, and it’s a gothic feast for the senses. With a story that’s been retold countless times—from Thomas Edison’s 1910 version to modern interpretations—you’d think there’s nothing left to explore. And this is the part most people miss: Del Toro proves there’s still untapped depth in this well-worn narrative. His script stays faithful to Shelley’s novel while electrifying it with fresh interpretations of its iconic characters.
Take the Creature, for instance, played by the towering and unexpectedly tender Jacob Elordi. This isn’t your typical lumbering brute; it’s a tragic, misunderstood being, violently thrust into a world that rejects him. Elordi’s performance, enhanced by breathtaking makeup, is nothing short of heart-wrenching. He embodies the Creature as a giant, lost puppy yearning for love, and it’s impossible not to ache for him. Controversial question: Does this portrayal risk overshadowing the horror of the original story, or does it amplify its emotional core?
Meanwhile, Dr. Victor Frankenstein, brought to life by Oscar Isaac, is a far cry from the sympathetic scientist of some adaptations. Here, he’s a deeply flawed genius, arrogant and cruel, whose obsession with conquering death sets off a chain of tragedy. Del Toro introduces a vicious cycle of parental abuse, revealing Victor’s own traumatic childhood under a tyrannical father (Charles Dance). This adds a layer of psychological complexity to the story, but here’s the debate: Does it excuse Victor’s actions, or does it merely highlight the generational curse of cruelty?
Mia Goth’s dual role as Victor’s mother and Elizabeth, his brother’s fiancée, adds an Oedipal twist that’s both intriguing and unsettling. Elizabeth starts as a curious admirer of Victor’s work but eventually recoils from his brutality. Yet, her character feels underdeveloped, leaving some moments—like her late-film interaction with the Creature—feeling unearned. Thought-provoking question: Is this a missed opportunity, or does it leave room for interpretation?
Visually, the film is a baroque dream. Del Toro’s signature style—lavish sets, shadow-drenched scenes, and blood-soaked elegance—transforms every frame into a work of art. Cinematographer Dan Laustsen’s vibrant palette and Alexandre Desplat’s soaring score elevate the film to epic proportions. But it’s not just about aesthetics; the emotional weight of the story is carried by Elordi’s Creature, whose innocence and longing make even his acts of violence feel justified. Bold statement: This might be the most relatable version of the Creature ever, especially for anyone who’s ever felt like an outsider.
Clocking in at 150 minutes, the film feels sprawling yet occasionally rushed. Some relationships, like Victor and Elizabeth’s, could have used more depth. But these flaws don’t detract from the overall experience. Del Toro’s Frankenstein is a gothic romance, a horror epic, and a tragic love story all in one. It’s alive—truly alive—in a way few adaptations have managed.
Final thought-provoking question: Is this the definitive Frankenstein for a new generation, or does it sacrifice too much of the original’s horror for its emotional ambitions? Let’s debate in the comments.
/Film Rating: 9 out of 10
Frankenstein hits select theaters on October 17, 2025, and Netflix globally on November 7, 2025. Don’t miss it.
