Guillermo del Toro’s Frankenstein has been a cinematic dream project for decades, and its realization is a breathtaking coup, an exhilarating counter-argument to the cynical idea that artists should avoid their lifelong passions. Rather than just retelling a story we think we know, del Toro crafts a symphonic opera, vividly rendered in deep reds and blacks, towering physical sets, and the icy starkness of the Arctic. Set in 1857, decades after Mary Shelley penned her novel, the film grounds the tale in a recognizable Victorian opulence, allowing for a magnificent blend of period drama and steampunk-tinged pseudo-science.
Del Toro, who has famously called the Creature his “personal avatar,” approaches the source material not as a cautionary tale about science, but as a profoundly moving narrative about fathers and sons, love, rage, and the devastating consequences of disappointment. The film is structurally faithful to the novel’s layered storytelling, beginning near the end in the frozen North, where the wounded, Byronesque Victor Frankenstein (a furiously brilliant Oscar Isaac) recounts his tragic tale to a ship’s captain while being pursued by his monumental creation.
A Creature of Heart and Intellect
While the visual design and operatic scale are signature del Toro, the true beating heart of the film lies in the performances, particularly Jacob Elordi’s gentle, tragic Monster. Elordi, beneath hours of impressive, tectonic-plated makeup, embodies the Creature with a remarkable balance of intimidating physicality and devastatingly vulnerable, childlike innocence. Unlike many adaptations that portray him as a brute, del Toro’s Creature achieves both sentience and literacy, and his subsequent torture is existential—he is an eternal outsider, condemned to misery simply for existing.
The film’s most poignant sections belong to “The Creature’s Tale,” where his self-discovery is fueled by observing the kindness and language of a blind man and his family. The Creature’s realization that he is “hunted and killed just for being who you are” is heartbreaking, transforming him from an “abnormal kid” seeking a father’s love to a vengeful, yet deeply hurt, master of his creator. Elordi’s portrayal is a triumph of emotional depth, conveying intelligence and sensitivity alongside the justified rage of the forsaken.
Pride, Prejudice, and Poetic Design
Oscar Isaac’s Victor Frankenstein is less a sickly, isolated student and more a manic, arrogant surgeon consumed by an Oedipal need to one-up his cold, abusive father (a chilling Charles Dance). Isaac’s performance leans into the flamboance of a scientist obsessed with eternal life, making his fatal pride palpable. The ensemble cast, including Christoph Waltz as the sinister, silken financier and Mia Goth as the nature-loving Elizabeth, who sadly lacks some of her novel counterpart’s depth, are all excellent additions to this lavish world.
The film is a visual feast, rich in Del Toro’s characteristic aesthetic of macabre beauty. From Kate Hawley’s symbolic costumes—Victor as a mad, Mick Jagger-esque scientist, Elizabeth in gossamer patterns mirroring nature—to Tamara Deverell’s towering laboratory set, every frame is meticulously crafted. Dan Laustsen’s cinematography captures the fiery brilliance of the creation scene against the vast, desolate Arctic. The narrative is also a cornucopia for literary nerds, peppering the story with callbacks to Hamlet, Prometheus, and the poetry of Percy Shelley and Lord Byron, reinforcing the film’s profound philosophical and spiritual undercurrents. It asks, through William’s question about the soul, whether a conscience is developed through kindness, or if it is simply a creation’s inalienable right.
Ultimately, del Toro’s Frankenstein is a powerful, sincere, and affecting reminder of why this two-century-old story resonates so deeply. It is a film about the vital importance of empathy and the tragic consequences of a creator’s moral failure. While it occasionally suffers from a lack of subtlety in its dialogue, the sheer visual grandeur and the profound, emotionally resonant performances ensure this adaptation is a significant, triumphant addition to the cinematic legacy of Frankenstein.
CINEMA SPICE RATING: ★★★½ (3.5/5)
