11/11/2025
“I called your name, and understood I was alone.”
Guillermo del Toro’s adaptation of Frankenstein is a gorgeously gothic feast, with sumptuous colors, dreamlike images, and a set design straight out of a dark fairytale. Balancing weighty philosophical queries with outright horror, del Toro’s gifts as a director are on full display. He’s obviously having the time of his life, and often the movie feels like a 19th century oil painting come to life.
I’m always skeptical of adaptations; in my opinion, we have yet to see a truly faithful adaptation of Dracula (no, don’t point to Coppola’s effort). Del Toro’s film makes several deviations from Mary Shelley’s novel (like not including Henry Clerval for some reason, reinventing Viktor’s familial relations, and interpreting the Creature in a more sympathetic light than in the book). This isn’t as faithful as the 1994 adaptatuon with Branagh. Nonetheless, it’s clearly born from love of the book. (I think there’s comparisons to be made with 1979’s Frank Langella version of Dracula, which truncated Stoker’s novel but hit the right gothic horror notes and was a visually entrancing film).
The cinematography and costuming are just stunning—the film drips with imagery befitting Romanticism at its finest, including small touches like the lacy back of a dress mirroring a spinal column, and the inclusion of quotes from others in Mary Shelley’s circle like Percy and Byron. And the cast delivers roundly excellent performances, especially Oscar Isaac as Viktor Frankenstein, and Jacob Elordi as the Creature.
Recommended.
