On the surface, “Frankenstein” is a gothic horror story about a man’s arrogance and the cost of playing God. But under Guillermo Del Toro’s direction, it becomes something deeper, a melancholy reflection on creation, grief and the need to be loved.
After a brief Arctic prologue that frames the film as a confession, we meet Victor Frankenstein, played by Oscar Isaac. A scientist obsessed with conquering death, but Del Toro frames that ambition as a symptom of fear, a man so terrified of loss that he tried to outwit it. When he finally succeeds, he doesn’t find peace or glory, only tragedy, embodied in Jacob Elordi’s haunting performance as the Creature.
Elordi’s work is the film’s beating heart. Beneath the layers of makeup and prosthetics, he brings the Creature to life with depth, vulnerability, and innocence. Watching him experience the world for the first time (curious, hopeful and then slowly broken by cruelty) is both mesmerizing and devasting. His performance captures what I love about del Toro’s filmmaking, the way he finds beauty in horror and humanity in monstrosity.
Mia Goth’s performance as Elizabeth is one of the film’s most haunting elements. She embodies both muse and a woman caught between love and suffering. Goth plays her not as a passive character but as the emotional conscience of the story, grounding the film’s beauty and tragedy with moments of strength. Her scenes with the Creature are among the most striking. In one she removes her gloves before reaching toward him, a small act of vulnerability that captures Del Toro’s entire philosophy. Beauty and horror can exist in the same breath.
Opposite her, Felix Kammerer brings warmth and sincerity to William Frankenstein, Victor’s younger brother. His presence adds a human anchor to Victor’s descent into madness, reminding us that empathy, not ambition, is what separates man from monster.
Visually, the film’s production design is stunning. Every frame feels handcrafted, filled with the kind of gothic detail and moody atmosphere that have defined Del Toro’s work for decades. His signature themes are all there: broken men chasing impossible dreams, lonely creatures craving connection and the question of who the real monster is.
Still, even as a long time Del Toro fan, “Frankenstein” isn’t without its flaws. The first act moves extremely slowly and at two and a half hours, the film could easily lose thirty minutes without losing its impact. It isn’t until we shift to the Creature’s perspective that the story regains its rhythm back.
What sets this adaptation stand part was its emphasis on empathy. Del Toro isn’t interested in horror for the sake of horror. “Frankenstein” isn’t just a monster movie; it’s a reflection on how pain can shape us and whether love can still redeem what’s been lost.
It’s not a perfect film, but it’s a human one. The final moments linger: a monster learning to love the world that rejected him and the creator finally seeing the cost of his own obsession.
For me “Frankenstein” is exactly the kind of movie that reminds me why I love del Toro’s films in the first place. His monsters are mirrors and the scariest thing they reflect is us.
After a limited theatrical release, “Frankenstein” arrives on Netflix this Friday, November 7. Just in time for one last brush with gothic beauty before the year ends.
Rating: 4/5