As a lifelong pilgrim in Guillermo del Toro’s cathedral of monsters, I approached Frankenstein (2025) with reverence and excitement. On paper, this should’ve been a match made in heaven — or at least in a beautifully rotting crypt. Instead, what I got was a gorgeously lit funeral for a soul that never arrived.
The first act is genuinely promising. Oscar Isaac delivers a magnetic Victor Frankenstein, all tortured intellect and slow-burning mania. His chemistry with Mia Goth (Elizabeth) and Christoph Waltz (Harlander) crackles with dread and emotional heft. Even Charles Dance and Felix Kammerer lend real gravitas to the Frankenstein family dynamic. For a while, it feels like we’re in the hands of a master conductor, building toward a tragic crescendo.
Then the creature opens its eyes—and the movie flatlines.
Jacob Elordi’s Creature enters in what should be a breathtaking resurrection scene, but it’s smothered by panic and indecision. Elordi has the heart, just not the horror, for the part. His unveiling is a bright moment, but the horrors he endures leave him strangely unfazed and unremarkable—more melancholy model than misunderstood monster.
And then come the Disney-approved CGI mice, deer, and some truly questionable wolves. None of these animals is scary or meaningful—they’re just there. As if someone had clicked “Add Forest” in Unreal Engine and forgotten to deselect “Rodents.”
Worse, the performances unravel. What began as a brooding chamber piece morphs into a prestige soap opera. Monologues stretch, stares linger, and the pacing drags like a stitched-together corpse across a foggy moor.
Then, because apparently we hadn’t suffered enough tonal whiplash, the film pivots into full-blown Italian giallo territory: red gloves, stylized murders, and a palette so lurid it feels like we’ve stumbled into Suspiria: The Monster Years. It’s Mary Shelley by way of Dario Argento — ambitious, yes, but coherence be damned.
Del Toro, usually a maestro of monster empathy, seems too enamored with the myth to interrogate it. The result is a film that reveres its source material from a safe distance, yet also alters it, and those changes affect the monster in uninteresting ways. What we get isn’t a reinvention or a resurrection, but a lavish remix missing the pulse of its own creation. Even Alexandre Desplat’s score sounds like it’s phoning it in from a haunted elevator.
In the end, Frankenstein (2025) is a gorgeous, hollow mausoleum of a movie — all bones, stitching, and candlelit corridors, but no spark of life. For fans of del Toro’s soulful monsters, this one’s a heartbreak.
It’s not a disaster, but it is a massive disappointment.
MPAA Rating: R.
Runtime: 149 mins
Director: Guillermo del Toro
Writer: Guillermo del Toro
Cast: Oscar Isaac; Jacob Elordi; Christoph Waltz
Genre: Horror
Tagline: Only Monsters Play God
Memorable Movie Quote: "In seeking life, I created death."
Distributor: Netflix
Official Site:
Release Date: November 7,2025
DVD/Blu-ray Release Date:
Synopsis: Dr. Victor Frankenstein, a brilliant but egotistical scientist, brings a creature to life in a monstrous experiment that ultimately leads to the undoing of both the creator and his tragic creation.
