Guillermo Del Toro’s long-awaited Frankenstein premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival(TIFF) a few weeks ago to a wave of anticipation, and for good reason.
Very few filmmakers today are as committed to uplifting and reimagining classic Gothic horror films as the Mexican Academy Award winner. Known for graciously weaving well-known monsters into stories of humanity, the film is rich in Toro’s classic blend of visual aesthetics and emotional sincerity.
Del Toro approaches Mary Shelley’s classic novel in his own distinctive fashion—not as a tale of simple horror, but as a tragic battle of love, loss, and creation. Despite some parts drawing on a little too long, the film is still able to feel fresh and familiar at the same time.
Frankenstein has had its many adaptations — The 1931 classic starring Boris Karloff, the comedic Young Frankenstein, multiple movies about Frankenstein’s bride and even a Disney animated film from 2012 called Frankenweenie (a Franken-esque dog) directed by Tim Burton.
Most of these original adaptations are successful in achieving their goal of horror, but few have truly captured what Mary Shelley accomplished at the age of 19.
The point is to feel sympathy for the monster. So when it was announced that Guillermo Del Toro would be attempting to re-write the narrative of Frankenstein movies, gothic horror fans everywhere wept. It was one of the most anticipated films at TIFF, primarily because it plays directly into his niche as a filmmaker.
From Pan’s Labyrinth to Crimson Peak, Del Toro has built a career out of elevating monsters into tragic and complex characters. His dedication to richly detailed world-building makes him uniquely suited to take on Shelley’s iconic creation. With a star-studded cast in place, including the unexpected (in my opinion) pick of Jacob Elordi as the lead character, the stage was set.
Del Toro structures his Frankenstein through a braided narrative, beginning in the Arctic as a gravely injured Victor Frankenstein (Oscar Isaac) seeks refuge aboard a stranded ship— featuring a violent reunion with his creation. While speaking with the captain of the ship, the film flashes back to recount Victor’s rise as a scientist, his partnership with a wealthy patron (Christoph Waltz) and the reckless experiment that gave life to The Creature (Jacob Elordi), all told through Victor’s own narration.
After the Creature on the ship discovers Victor, the story shifts to its own point of view and narrates its own origin, which exposes the pain, rejection, and desire to belong that were omitted from Victor’s narrative. The film culminates with the two men on the frozen vessel, confronting their shared tragedy before Victor’s impending death.
Even though it may not come as a surprise, Del Toro excelled with this project.
The film is a triumph of atmosphere, with enticing gothic visuals and poignant yet fashion-forward costuming that elevates the story’s tragic nature. The performances are equally compelling. Elordi brings a punishing vulnerability to The Creature, while Isaac embodies Victor’s obsessive arrogance with an understated intensity. Your empathy for the Creature deepens as your disdain for Victor grows, giving their final meeting an interesting dynamic and emotional weight.
The film does justice to Shelley’s novel by foregrounding humanity over the horror, reminding audiences everywhere why this story has stood the test of time.
The only caveat is the constant shift between the past and present, which sometimes causes the film to drag and feel elementary, given its emotional depth. A leaner structure, beginning and ending in the Arctic, would have preserved momentum and allowed Del Toro’s storytelling to shine brighter.
Although the film will eventually be released on Netflix on November 7, this will become less of an issue.
Del Toro’s Frankenstein is an ambitious, visually stunning reimagining that lingers long after the credits roll, shining even when its pacing stumbles.
For audiences willing to surrender to its slow burn, it offers a hauntingly human depiction of creation and loss.