"it feels like a love letter to everything del Toro stands for: beauty in the grotesque, emotion in the strange, and empathy in the monstrous"

Guillermo del Toro’s Frankenstein isn’t just another adaptation of Mary Shelley’s literary classic — it feels like a love letter to everything del Toro stands for: beauty in the grotesque, emotion in the strange, and empathy in the monstrous.

Told in three acts — The Prelude, Victor’s Story, and The Monster’s Tale — the film begins at the end, letting both Victor and his creation guide us through their intertwined fates. It’s familiar, yet full of surprises; del Toro keeps the heart of Shelley’s story intact while breathing new cinematic life into it.

What makes del Toro’s Frankenstein special is how deeply personal it feels. His fascination with the weird and the wounded gives the story a warmth and humanity that most versions overlook. Like The Shape of Water, this film is about the things that make us human — our need for love, our fear of being rejected, and the pain of creating something we can’t control.

The visuals are breathtaking — dark, gothic, and poetic, exactly what you’d expect from del Toro. But what really makes it shine is the balance between brutality and tenderness. You can feel his respect for Shelley’s vision in every shot, even as he reshapes the story to make it flow naturally for modern audiences. His Creature isn’t just a monster — he’s a masterpiece of design and emotion.

Oscar Isaac and Jacob Elordi bring extraordinary depth to their roles. Isaac’s Victor is complex — proud, tortured, and ultimately broken by his own creation. Elordi, even under layers of prosthetics, gives a performance that’s raw and unforgettable. His Creature grows before our eyes, from instinct to understanding, from rage to heartbreak. He’s terrifying and beautiful all at once — exactly what the Creature should be.

Del Toro’s Frankenstein is more than a film; it’s a resurrection — not just of Shelley’s story, but of what makes it timeless. It’s a gothic tragedy that feels both ancient and brand new, reminding us that monsters are never born — they’re made, and they only want to be loved.