Guillermo del Toro’s “Frankenstein” honestly feels like one of the first adaptations that really gets what Mary Shelley was doing. What makes this version stand out isn’t the creature design or the gothic mood; it’s how much the story focuses on the relationship between Victor Frankenstein and the Creature.
Instead of the usual “mad scientist makes a monster” setup, del Toro turns it into this messy and painful father-son story. Victor brings life into the world, freaks out the second it isn’t perfect and runs. That choice becomes the emotional centre of the whole movie, and you feel its impact in every scene.
Whenever the film jumps to Victor, everything around him feels cold and uncomfortable. The sets are sharp and dark, and the whole atmosphere makes it seem like he is always seconds away from breaking down. He is obviously brilliant, but he has no idea how to handle real feelings, which makes his rejection of the Creature hit even harder.
It is not just fear; it is total emotional emptiness. You start to understand how he can create life, but have no clue how to love it.
The Creature’s scenes could not feel more different. They are slow, soft and almost peaceful. His early moments are like watching a newborn discover the world for the first time. He reaches toward warmth, touches things he has never felt and listens to the world around him.
Del Toro gives these scenes room to breathe, and it reminded me a lot of Sofia Coppola, where tiny gestures say more than dialogue ever could. The way the creature moves and watches everything makes his loneliness feel huge. You really feel the pain of someone who has to figure out life alone because the one person meant to guide him walked away.
And, Jacob Elordi was a surprise in the best way. This role shows he is way more than the “tall toxic boyfriend” character people keep sticking him in. He plays the Creature with this mix of sweetness and heartbreak that gets under your skin. It is the first time I have seen him completely disappear into a character. He makes the Creature feel painfully human without losing the oddness that makes him unique.
He moves with both the hesitance of a newborn and the intensity of a man bruised by rejection. It feels like the first role that allows him to stretch into the full range of his talent. Many viewers will finish the film convinced that he deserves award recognition for transforming a character often portrayed as monstrous into something deeply human.
One of the things I loved most was how del Toro refused to turn either character into a simple type. Victor is not just a villain, and the Creature is not just a victim. They mirror each other.
The movie keeps coming back to the idea that creating something means nothing if you cannot take responsibility for it, and that love means nothing if you are too scared to stick with it. Victor’s downfall is not his science; it is his fear. He wants the thrill of creating life without any of the emotional work that comes with it. And, the Creature spends the whole movie looking for the love he never got.
Del Toro also sneaks in this quiet theme of generational trauma. The similarities between Victor’s mother and Elizabeth are not merely stylistic. They show how Victor repeats the same emotional habits he grew up with. He can pull off miracles in the lab, but he cannot break the patterns he inherited. That makes the ending hurt even more, because you are watching two people who could have connected tear each other apart instead.
The costumes add a whole other layer. Victor and his mother wear reds and blacks that match their chaotic energy. Herr Harlander, William and the Danish military show up in icy blues that make them feel cold and distant.
Elizabeth gets soft greens and purples that make her feel like the one warm, hopeful presence in Victor’s life. Mia Goth playing both Victor’s mother and Elizabeth connects Victor’s past and present in a way that feels subtle but powerful. Even the creature’s clothing changes over time as he slowly figures out who he is.
By the end, the movie becomes this emotional mix of beauty and heartbreak. Victor shows what happens when ambition loses its humanity.
The Creature shows what rejection can turn into when it never gets resolved. The final act feels almost like an opera, with storms and broken sets that seem to grieve with them. That last line, “The heart will break and yet brokenly live on,” completely wrecked me. When the creature steps into the sunlight, crying, it is one of those moments that sticks with you long after the movie ends. I cried right along with him.