Guillermo del Toro's Frankenstein (2025)

If there's one thing to be said about the Mexican film director Guillermo del Toro, it's that he's a total, no-holds-barred horror nerd. That much is evident in his recent filmography: the tenebrous historical fantasy Pan's Labyrinth (2006). the goopily romantic Shape of Water (2017), and the wonderfully passionate Cabinet of Curiosities series, which premiered on Netflix on Halloween 2022.
 
What shines through each of these is a total devotion to horror as a literary genre, a special kind of atmosphere, a goosebump-inducing vibe. Cabinet of Curiosities, in particular, demonstrates del Toro's total devotion to the subject. The curated anthology draws on expertly-picked stories from the horror genre, including two tales by H.P. Lovecraft, Henry Kuttner's cult story Graveyard Rats, and Michael Shea's The Autopsy – a slightly obscure tale, but one that all aficionados should know is an underrated belter.

The director, in other words, is steeped in the genre's literary lore. So when it was announced that he would finally be directing his take on Mary Shelley's Frankenstein; or, the Modern Prometheus, horror enthusiasts' heads turned. Frankenstein has been a dream project for years, so the director has expressed on multiple occasions, and the final product certainly betrays as much.

The narrative more closely follows the novel's actual story, in which the mad doctor Victor Frankenstein builds and brings to life a monster by means of lightning-based galvanism. But that's only half the plot: Frankenstein's monster escapes his creator, ventures out alone, and learns the ways of human life. Hiding in a hovel, he observes a poor family, learns to read, and ruminates on his own existence, forehead stitches and all.
 
With slight modifications, this is the core of Del Toro's Frankenstein, too. Part one covers Victor Frankenstein's (Oscar Isaac) difficult youth, his descent into madness, his cooperation with the dodgy German arms manufacturer Heinrich Harlander (Christoph Waltz). There's also his brother, William (Felix Kammerer) and his wife (Mia Goth), who looks shockingly like their late mother. Dr Frankenstein meets Dr Freud, if you will.

© IMDB/Netflix

As the narrative of part one builds towards its inevitable climax – bringing to life a sewn-together man by means of lightning rod – one can't help but be astounded by the sheer richness of the production. Frankenstein and his weird crew spend their time in lavish mansions and dress extravagantly, so that every inch of on-screen space is decked out in mid-19th century finery. Silk suits and lacey dresses blend into massive paintings, gothic mansions are strewn with creaky chandeliers and dilapidated bookshelves. Total eye candy.

Oscar Isaac (whose role is a medical genius slowly losing his marbles) gives a great performance. Del Toro's directorial style tends towards the extravagant – grand gestures, fancy language, and sheer dramatic terror – and Isaac's wide-eyed mania suits its baroque environment. Indeed, the film looks and feels like one of the most genuinely gothic films in recent memory.

But the real star of the show is Jacob Elordi as the creature, a grotesque stitch job brought to unlife against his will. Part two of the story follows Victor's total breakdown and torching of his lab. The monster narrowly escapes the blaze and makes its way into the wilderness where, like in the novel, he learns about the nature of human life – and thus, the nature of his own being.

© IMDB/Netflix

The monster develops a touching friendship with a blind man, who ends up brutally torn to shreds by wolves. After having learnt about the Bible and Milton's Paradise Lost, he now vows revenge against his maker, pursuing him to the wedding of William and his mum-like wife. In another stunningly gothic sequence, the modern Prometheus is confronted by his big, weird son – a set of contrasting performances rendered exquisitely by Isaac and Elordi.

The big takeaway from del Toro's Frankenstein (besides the idea that you shouldn't stitch people together) is that Guillermo del Toro is a horror enthusiast through and through. The attention to detail, the richness of the production almost seems too much at times: overly elaborate costuming and surrealist dream sequences feel almost Disney-fied. But in the hands of del Toro, whose touch is at all times very delicate and calculated, the film nevertheless succeeds as a kind of highly stylised nightmare.

It's a passion project, that much is sure, but one that's nevertheless handled with intense skill and passion. When the film does go overboard, you can't really blame del Toro for indulging the novel's most gothic impulses. Horror is predicated on over-the-topness – so as long as it's presented with a deft hand, even the most ludicrous moments register as the work of someone who's truly passionate. And Guillermo del Toro's Frankenstein, for all its freakiness, is just that.