Review - Frankenstein (2025)

Guillermo del Toro has garnered quite the reputation for being a filmmaker whose work is entrenched with the beauty of otherness, often conjuring films that are steeped in a horrific, tragic richness. This methodology has resulted in films such as 'The Devil's Backbone' (2001), 'Pan's Labyrinth' (2006) and 'Crimson in Peak' (2015) lining his filmography. With Del Toro not being one to stray from the alluring world of dark fantastical fiction, his latest feature, 'Frankenstein', is precisely what one would expect. From the macabre beauty of this woefully melodramatic tale to the meticulously crafted gothicness that is continually present, Frankenstein is a hyperbolised, theatrical experience in every sense of the word. 

The film begins with a prelude that sets the scene for how Baron Victor Frankenstein (Oscar Issac) created 'the Creature' (Jacob Elordi), eventually recounting how the sorrow and horror defined the identity of this formidable, yet personified beast that seeks vengeance, and more importantly, acceptance. 

Based on Mary Shelley's 1818 novel of the same name is Del Toro's self-proclaimed lifelong dream project, with the director being insistent for years about his longing to adapt Shelley's tale of monstrous creation and untempered tragedy. Inevitably, this precise passion towards such a covered novel, whether that be through countless cultural analogies and interpretations or the sheer number of media formed around the subject of Frankenstein, is where Del Toro's adaptation plays into the role of subjectivity. In other words, due to the immense task of everything that Frankenstein can represent, both visually and metaphorically, the film undoubtedly will cause division. There are what seem to be dozens of ways to read the source material, similarly, Del Toro's version also adopts a narrative approach that can be interpreted in every way imaginable. And as such, Frankenstein will not be for everybody. 

The film is somewhat a rendition of troubled fatherhood, with Victor mechanically inventing the Creature, practically fathering an aesthetically monstrous creation who Victor abandons. Neglect and disappointment run throughout Victor's sentiments, catalysing a mournful paternal relationship between creator and creation, in turn bestowing fuel into the allegorical woes of fatherhood displayed throughout Frankenstein. It is through Victor's eventual disciplinarian-like treatment towards the Creature that the film's second act comes to life. 

As the film shifts from Victor's perspective to the Creature's, it becomes excruciatingly evident that there is a deep, brooding horror bubbling deep from within the depths of the abandonment that Victor enacted towards his creation; thus, instigating the pursuit for retribution that the Creature goes on to avenge. This full circle journey is not shadowed in ambiguity, with Del Toro opting to dramatically push this statement quite vocally throughout the film and handing the viewer the metaphor on a gleaming silver platter.

One of the most noticeable aspects of the film is how grandiose everything is. The sets are lush and lavish, bold and incredibly tonally detailed, as if each room is costumed head to toe in scenery, akin to the themed immersive queue lines popular at Disney amusement parks or overtly dressed Halloween haunts. Everything is eccentric and a complete sensory overload, which is then even further highlighted by the incredibly sharp and distinct cinematography that often has a fluidity, with the camera moving throughout the scene and capturing every sharp movement. Whilst it is beautiful and certainly effective at world-building, it is an exhibition of unbridled maximalism, demanding every ounce of the viewer's attention for 2 hours and 30 minutes. Taxing for some and a reminiscent experience of 2000s blockbusters for others - Frankenstein is a banquet for the senses. 

One of the most intriguing factors of Frankenstein and perhaps the film's biggest trick up its sleeve is how genuinely commendable the performances are, particularly that of Elordi. The Australian actor has become famed for his standout roles, with his ability to camouflage into any persona with impeccable malleability. In the case of Frankenstein, he transforms from Hollywood heartthrob into a forsaken, vexed, man-made monster who experiences an emotional and physical metamorphosis that can only be described as undergoing a horrific whirlwind of events. He bares this sombre desolation with a rawness that is truly a treat to watch unfold. Following is Issac, whose portrayal of Victor similarly goes on a hectic soul-search that traverses through intense battles of pure dread. Further applause is owed to Mia Goth, whose talents grace two roles, one being Claire, Victor's late mother, followed by Lady Elizabeth Harlander, a character with their own fair share of depthful dimension, playing a pivotal role in the Creature's human development. 

Being the emotionally daunting and visually immersive film that it is, it is a shame that this experience was only granted a direct to streaming release. Frankenstein seems destined for the big screen, an actual theatrical release where the detailed world of Victor and the Creature could shine in the cinematic environment. For all the narrative symbolism and rigorous lore, Frankenstein does not fall short on the gore factor, with the film exhibiting some proper gnarly and shocking viscera, blood, and brutal slaughter. It is with this massive collision of narrative, imagery, cinematography, performances, set design and even aspects such as the costumery, scoring, pacing and direction that Frankenstein becomes the riveting creation that it is. 

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