PLOT: Driven by arrogance, his hunger to unlock the secret of eternal life, and his own growing madness, Victor Frankenstein (Oscar Isaac) creates life without ever considering what would happen to the wretched creature (Jacob Elordi) who, by design, is cursed to live forever.
REVIEW: Frankenstein feels like the film Guillermo del Toro has been destined to make his whole career. Thanks to Netflix, he’s finally able to bring his dream project to life on a scale few directors could ever hope for, delivering a lavish, intricately detailed gothic tale that feels like the exact movie he’s always wanted to make. Yet his approach veers away from most other takes on the classic, and while it hits certain notes perfectly—especially in its depiction of the creature—the film takes a long time to gather momentum, with too much of the first half devoted to a draggy exploration of Victor’s youth and his intensifying obsession with life and death.
It might just be that del Toro is working with material that has been revisited too many times. The first half feels like the most conventional stretch, and I couldn’t help but think we’ve already had plenty of excellent depictions of Frankenstein’s obsession—from James Whale’s landmark film to Kenneth Branagh’s underrated ‘90s adaptation, and yes, even Mel Brooks’ classic spoof Young Frankenstein.
That’s not to say the movie isn’t impressive. The visuals alone, shot by DP Dan Laustsen, are impossibly lush, possibly the most beautiful work of del Toro’s career. The film is further elevated by Alexandre Desplat’s memorable score, while Oscar Isaac throws himself completely into the role of Victor, charting his slow descent into madness. He’s easily the most cruel and unsympathetic Victor we’ve ever seen on screen, played less as a tragic genius and more as a villain whose cold indifference to the consequences of his actions makes him feel like the ultimate abusive parent.
Where the movie truly excels is in its treatment of the creature. Jacob Elordi proves to be ideal casting, embodying a figure who is monstrous yet utterly sympathetic. He is shaped by the cruelty of the people around him, but he also displays more empathy than his creator, and he quickly realizes that eternal life is more curse than gift. Del Toro emphasizes this point relentlessly—the creature cannot die, no matter how many times he’s shot, stabbed, or blown apart. Elordi brings remarkable soul to the role, with his towering, angular presence perfectly suited to the part. He’s also a more strikingly handsome monster than audiences may expect, not just physically but in his demeanor, and this is underscored by a poignant subplot with Mia Goth’s Elizabeth. In this version, she’s engaged not to Victor but to his brother, and far from being seduced by Victor, she is repelled by his cruelty and arrogance.
The supporting players are also excellent, with Christoph Waltz chewing the scenery with relish as Victor’s benefactor, and David Bradley offering quiet warmth as the blind hermit who shows the creature rare compassion. And while Frankenstein will mostly be watched on streaming because of its Netflix release, it’s clearly crafted for the big screen and would not feel out of place on an IMAX canvas. At the same time, before anyone complains about the lack of a theatrical rollout, the freedom del Toro had in working with Netflix allowed him to make a version less reliant on horror tropes than other adaptations. Instead, his focus is firmly on the tragic father-son bond between the creature and his maker.
While I can’t quite call this my favorite Frankenstein adaptation, I’ll admit the overly drawn-out first half tested my patience. Still, once the movie finds its footing, the second half is close to brilliant. Even if it’s uneven and slow to start, it ultimately blossoms into something powerful, a film that demands to be seen. It may take longer than it should to arrive at its peak, but when it does, it’s a striking reminder of what happens when a filmmaker is granted the freedom to pursue an undiluted vision. Del Toro has earned that privilege, and the result, while imperfect, is still essential viewing.
