Guillermo del Toro’s Frankenstein is one of the year’s most anticipated films — a lavish reimagining of Mary Shelley’s timeless tale of creation, obsession, and humanity. Long a passion project for the director, the film arrives with towering expectations, promising gothic spectacle, emotional depth, and del Toro’s unmistakable blend of horror and poetry. With a stellar cast led by Jacob Elordi and Oscar Isaac, and the visual craftsmanship audiences have come to expect from the filmmaker, Frankenstein seeks to breathe new life into a story as old as modern horror itself. Below, we explore how the film fares across its key elements — direction, acting, writing, cinematography, and special effects — to see whether del Toro’s long-awaited vision lives up to its monstrous ambition.
Del Toro brings a deeply personal and stylistic touch to what many thought was a well-worn story. As one reviewer puts it: “a breath-taking coup, an exhilarating riposte to the conventional wisdom about dream projects.” He retains the gothic grandeur of the source material while infusing it with his own thematic concerns — identity, otherness, creation, and parenthood. The settings, tone and pacing all bear that signature del Toro stamp: sumptuous, melancholic, mythic. That said, the direction isn’t flawless. Some critiques point out that the film’s ambition occasionally overwhelms its momentum. The first act has been described as somewhat over-stuffed, and the emotional beats don’t always land as cleanly as they could. Overall, though, this feels like one of Del Toro’s more resolved visions.
The performances are among the film’s strongest assets. Jacob Elordi as the Creature displays surprising nuance — fragility, rage, longing — in a role that could easily have been monstrous caricature. Critics note his “balance of fragility and strength, vulnerability and honesty.” Meanwhile, Oscar Isaac as Victor Frankenstein is compelling: obsessive, haunted, driven — though some feel his character dips into tropes of the “mad scientist” too easily. Supporting turns (such as Mia Goth and Christoph Waltz) are solid, though a few critiques suggest some of the supporting characters aren’t given quite enough space to breathe. In short: strong acting anchors the film — one of the key reasons it works.
The screenplay, written by Del Toro himself, impresses in its ambition more than in its precision. It re-imagines the classic Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus by Mary Shelley in a Victorian period setting, richly detailed and emotionally layered. But writing weaknesses emerge: some critics argue that the pacing is uneven, that exposition lingers when the story could move, and that thematic messaging sometimes grows heavy-handed. For example, one review states: “The Creature is beautiful, but the rest feels crudely sewn together.” So, while the writing is ambitious in what it tries to say, its execution occasionally lacks subtlety.
Visually, the film is a triumph. Cinematographer Dan Laustsen wraps the film in rich textures, chiaroscuro lighting, candlelit gloom, icy exteriors, and sumptuous interiors. The image of this Frankenstein-world is like a painting come to life. One reviewer accurately describes the visuals as “nothing short of a painter’s canvas in motion.” If the film has a place to shine most purely, it’s here: you’ll want to see this on a big screen, in a good cinema, to absorb the scale. Some viewers note that the beauty of the visuals almost works against the horror — it becomes so polished that the sense of raw unease is sometimes tempered. But that is a minor caveat in a largely gorgeous cinematographic achievement.
The film leans heavily into practical sets, lavish design, and makeup artistry rather than relying purely on digital effects. That commitment shows in the tactile quality of the monster, the environment, and the machinery of creation. The make-up and prosthetics for the creature are especially worth noting: Elordi underwent extensive makeup transformations. The special effects and design support the tone beautifully — gruesome without being gratuitous, poetic without being dream-like abstraction. Some critics do say that in a few scenes the CGI feels less convincing or more “costume-like.” But overall, the effects serve the story rather than dominate it.
In summary Frankenstein is a bold, rich, emotionally resonant adaptation. Its visual world is sumptuous; its lead performances are compelling; its direction is assured; and its thematic ambitions admirable. If it falls short, it’s mostly because it’s writing sometimes struggles under its own weight — overlong in places, a little heavy in thematic delivery. But for many viewers, those flaws will be outweighed by the film’s heart, craftsmanship and vision.