My quick rating – 8.2/10. When I first heard that Guillermo del Toro was finally making his version of Frankenstein, I was already in line, no further information needed. The master of the macabre brings Mary Shelley’s timeless tragedy to life with both ferocity and heart, creating something which feels equal parts Gothic horror and soulful meditation on creation, loss, and obsession.
The film opens with a hauntingly beautiful scene aboard a frozen ship where Dr. Victor Frankenstein (Oscar Isaac) recounts his story to Captain Walton (Lars Mikkelsen). From there, del Toro splits his film into two distinct yet complementary parts: Victor’s Tale and The Creature’s Tale. It’s an ambitious narrative structure that pays off wonderfully, giving equal weight to both the creator and his tormented creation.
In Victor’s Tale, we see a young Victor (Christian Convery) raised amidst death, ambition, and an unrelenting thirst for knowledge. His broken family life fuels his desire to transcend mortality itself—a hunger nurtured further when he meets the cunning benefactor Harlander (Christoph Waltz), who gives him the lab (and unchecked freedom) to play God. The period setting—mid-1800s Europe—is gorgeously realized. Every candlelit corridor, every misty graveyard breathes del Toro’s signature gothic romanticism. It’s rich visually, potent emotionally, and immersive in that way only he knows how to make happen.
Then comes The Creature’s Tale, and the shift is magnificent. Following the catastrophic lab explosion, Jacob Elordi steps into the spotlight as the Creature, and what a performance it is. His portrayal oscillates between rage, heartbreak, and fleeting humanity with startling precision. The prosthetics and makeup work deserve their own ovation—equal parts horrifying and mesmerizing. Elordi embodies the anguish of a being born from genius yet abandoned by it, and del Toro captures every ounce of that torment through meticulous framing and poetic pacing.
Mia Goth, as Elizabeth, once again proves why I believe she’s one of the most compelling actors working today. She exudes both warmth and tragedy, grounding the film’s emotional undercurrent. Christoph Waltz brings a deliciously sinister spin to the supporting cast, while Felix Kammerer shines in his underappreciated role as Victor’s brother William. Still, this is very much the Isaac-and-Elordi show. Oscar Isaac’s performance is another jewel in his ever-growing crown of morally complex roles. His Victor is brilliant, arrogant, and ultimately broken, the perfect match for del Toro’s dark romantic vision.
The sound design is chillingly effective, the score a thunderous hymn to the grotesque beauty of del Toro’s imagination. I love his attention to atmosphere. It is unmatched. Even the lab feels alive, pulsating with the hum of creation and damnation. The film’s violence is striking and, at times, shocking—del Toro doesn’t flinch from showing the raw brutality of man and monster alike.
Though faithful to Mary Shelley’s text, del Toro injects enough in the way of emotion and visual depth to make this the definitive cinematic version for a new generation. It’s both grand and intimate, philosophical and visceral. The pacing dips here and there, but even when scenes slow down, the emotion never does.
Frankenstein is a near masterpiece. An operatic fusion of art, horror, and heartache proving once again why del Toro stands among cinema’s great visionaries. Oscar Isaac commands, Jacob Elordi astonishes, and Guillermo del Toro delivers a resurrection worthy of legend. The Oscar committee better be watching.
