Frankenstein

By giving his actors a three-dimensional world, del Toro sparks their imaginations — and ours. The result is a beautiful, bittersweet, and occasionally horrific look at what it means to be human.

There’s such humanity and spirit to what del Toro has done that despite the narrative differences, it genuinely feels like the definitive take on Shelley’s classic tale. He’s said what he wants to say about his beloved Creature, and we are better for it.

Once Jacob Elordi takes the stage as the monster — sorry, the creature — everything falls into place. It’s always the way of del Toro: the monsters are better than the men.

Cleaving closely to the source material, del Toro wants to explore the trauma that makes us, mankind's capacity for cruelty, the death we bring on ourselves through war, and the catharsis of forgiveness – all notions that make Frankenstein relevant in current world politics and social media savagery.

Is this movie better seen in a theater than at home on Netflix? Yes, no and what can one say? Watch it anyway.

Guillermo del Toro reassembles a multitude of fragments, both lifted from the text and drawn from his own life, into a bloody and beautiful organ of empathy that will assuredly live on.

Ultimately, the piece collapses under the weight of del Toro’s vision, a muddled collage of tones that consistently underwhelms. It’s a beautiful collage that amounts to a surprisingly arduous execution.

A visually stunning, emotionally **** movie—retold through the eyes of master director Del Toro, just a sumptuous, horrible feast. As usual, the renditions of the dead and undead and the set designs are **** casting is stupendous. Isaacs as the mad, demented creator; Elordi as the innocent so-called monster with an angelic heart; and Goth as the ingenue of all, a philosopher princess. The dialogs are so wonderful to absorb, with themes of life and death and the mystery **** music by master Desplat is sweeping and romantic, operatic and sad, and powerful. The cinematography of this movie is just a visual feast; every shot is as breathtaking as the original undead novel that seems to be retold every decade. I was deeply moved by this version; in fact, I think it is the best I have ever seen. Del Toro has done true justice to this immortal tale.

Çokk kötü asla yapılmamalıydı böyle bir yapım. Nedesem bu filme az kalıyor , kötü seneryo. Karakterlere uymayan diyaloglar , filme göre kısa tutulan başlıklar , aşırı uzatmalar ve dahası. sanki hayatında ilk defa bir film yapan ekipe vermişler gibi, kaçan potansiyel cok izlerken eline telefon alan gavatlar bu filme bayılıcak desem yeridir. Sırf potansiyelinden ortalama puan verdim

I had never read Mary Shelley‘s Frankenstein. Nor did I have a good understanding of the themes behind it. But I have to say the movie landed pretty well for me. I never would have believed the one aspect of this version that didn’t work for me was Oscar Isaac. But as a result, the first half of the movie really dragged for me.

[SPOILER ALERT: This review contains spoilers.]

It is with some regret that I write this review, as I am an admirer of Guillermo del Toro as a filmmaker. Frankenstein (2025), however, is ultimately weighed down by the excess of his vision. While the film is quite polished and sometimes visually interesting, its craftsmanship fails to compensate for a narrative that lacks discipline and emotional restraint. The shifting tones - gothic solemnity, philosophical rumination, restrained horror - never settle into a coherent whole, frequently tipping into overstatement. Emotional beats are relentlessly overstressed, often with characters delivering extended monologues at the point of death. Rather than deepening the drama, these moments feel indulgent and, very often, unintentionally grotesque. Emotions are broadly sketched and expressed with a heavy hand, undermining any sense of tragic subtlety. Compounding this excess, certain visual effects and lighting choices appear conspicuously artificial, lending the film a plasticky sheen that clashes with its intended gravitas. Most notably, the relationship between Elizabeth and Frankenstein unfolds with the melodramatic simplicity of a minor soap opera, flattening what should be the film’s most intimate and affecting dynamic. By gravely betraying the work’s inherent three-dimensionality, reducing drama to a mere narrative device rather than an existential force, the film fails to capture the emotional depth and moral complexity so powerfully articulated by its author, Mary Shelley, in Frankenstein.Ultimately, the piece collapses under the weight of its intentions: a beautiful collage of images and ideas that consistently underwhelms, resulting in a surprisingly laborious and unsatisfying experience.