Released in October 2025, Frankenstein marks a breathtaking return to gothic storytelling under the direction of Guillermo del Toro. Produced by Netflix and adapted from Mary Shelley’s 1818 novel, the 2025 film features an exceptional cast led by Oscar Isaac as Dr. Victor Frankenstein, Jacob Elordi as the Creature, and Mia Goth as Elizabeth. The screenplay, written by del Toro himself, reimagines Shelley’s legendary tale with emotional depth, philosophical weight, and a modern cinematic sensibility.
In this movie review, I explore how Frankenstein (2025) combines del Toro’s signature visual poetry with the tragedy and terror of creation itself. Sitting in the darkened cinema, surrounded by the haunting soundscape and intricate visuals, I realized I wasn’t just watching another adaptation — I was witnessing the definitive retelling of one of literature’s most enduring stories.
Genre: Horror, Fantasy, Drama
A Familiar Story Told with New Life
From the opening frame, it’s clear that del Toro’s Frankenstein is not content with being a conventional remake. While it honors Mary Shelley’s original themes of ambition, grief, and the moral limits of science, the film reshapes them through a distinctly human lens.
The plot follows Victor Frankenstein, a brilliant yet tormented scientist who dares to play God by reanimating life from death. But rather than focusing solely on the horror of his creation, del Toro’s version delves deeper into the emotional consequences — the isolation of the creator, the pain of the creature, and the blurred line between humanity and monstrosity.
Each scene feels alive with tension and melancholy, reminding us that the true tragedy of Frankenstein lies not in its monster, but in the man who made him.
Oscar Isaac and Jacob Elordi – Two Souls Bound by Creation
The success of this 2025 film rests on the performances of its two leads, and both Oscar Isaac and Jacob Elordi deliver career-defining turns.
Isaac’s Victor Frankenstein is a man consumed by genius and guilt. His performance radiates a manic brilliance, balanced by moments of heartbreaking fragility. He doesn’t play Victor as a villain or a visionary, but as a deeply flawed human — driven by love, haunted by loss, and undone by hubris.
Elordi’s portrayal of the Creature is equally mesmerizing. Towering, scarred, yet profoundly expressive, he transcends the typical “monster” archetype. His physical presence commands fear, but his eyes — filled with confusion, longing, and pain — convey the soul of a lost child. Del Toro gives Elordi space to explore the Creature’s humanity, resulting in a portrayal that’s both terrifying and tender.
Together, Isaac and Elordi form the heart of Frankenstein (2025) — creator and creation, mirror images bound by suffering and the search for meaning.
Guillermo del Toro’s Direction – Beauty in the Macabre
Few filmmakers working today can blend horror and beauty like Guillermo del Toro, and Frankenstein may be his most mature work yet.
Every frame feels meticulously composed — shadow and light dance like warring forces, while the production design transports viewers into a world where art and nightmare coexist. From the candlelit laboratories of Geneva to the snow-covered wastelands of exile, del Toro turns each location into a reflection of the characters’ inner torment.
His camera lingers on faces and machinery alike, showing the same reverence for human emotion as he does for grotesque invention. The result is a film review writer’s dream — a cinematic experience where every image tells a story.
This isn’t horror built on cheap scares. It’s atmosphere, mood, and emotion — the kind that lingers long after the credits roll.
A Story About Humanity, Not Horror
What sets Frankenstein (2025) apart is its insistence that the creature’s tragedy is our own. Del Toro doesn’t present him as an abomination, but as a being yearning for love and acceptance.
The film asks painful questions: What does it mean to be alive? What happens when the pursuit of perfection leads to ruin? And perhaps most hauntingly — who is truly the monster?
In exploring these themes, del Toro elevates Frankenstein from a gothic horror to a deeply human drama. It’s as much about loneliness as it is about life and death, and in that, it captures the soul of Shelley’s masterpiece.
Visuals, Design, and Cinematic Craftsmanship
Visually, Frankenstein (2025) is a triumph. Cinematographer Dan Laustsen, a frequent del Toro collaborator, paints the film with a palette of golds, grays, and blood reds, balancing intimacy with grandeur. The sets are handcrafted marvels — ornate laboratories filled with arcane instruments, decaying mansions echoing with guilt, and frozen landscapes that mirror emotional isolation.
The Creature’s design, blending practical effects and subtle digital enhancements, feels organic and tactile — a living work of art that pays homage to classic monster cinema while pushing the boundaries of modern filmmaking.
The film’s score, composed by Alexandre Desplat, weaves sweeping orchestral themes with haunting silence. It underscores not just the terror, but the sorrow, transforming Frankenstein into an operatic tragedy.
Supporting Cast – The Beating Heart Around the Monster
While Isaac and Elordi command the screen, the supporting cast adds remarkable depth. Mia Goth’s Elizabeth brings compassion and sorrow to a role often overlooked in previous adaptations. Her presence grounds the story, reminding Victor — and the audience — of what’s lost in the pursuit of greatness.
David Bradley, in a small but unforgettable role, embodies the moral compass Victor so desperately needs. His scenes carry the weight of warning — the voice of conscience that science so often ignores.
Each supporting character serves a narrative purpose, their arcs intertwined with the film’s exploration of love, guilt, and the cost of creation.
Del Toro’s Themes – Creation, Faith, and the Fall of Man
Del Toro’s Frankenstein functions on multiple levels. On one hand, it’s a faithful adaptation of a gothic masterpiece; on the other, it’s a meditation on art, divinity, and despair.
Throughout his career, del Toro has explored outcasts and dreamers — from Pan’s Labyrinth to The Shape of Water. Here, he delivers the ultimate tale of the outcast: one who was never meant to exist.
His use of religious imagery is striking. The creature’s awakening echoes the birth of a god, but what follows is an inversion of Genesis — creation without compassion, life without love. The parallels between creator and creation feel almost biblical, culminating in a haunting moral reflection: that even monsters can be more human than their makers.
The Balance of Fear and Emotion
Unlike traditional horror films, Frankenstein (2025) doesn’t rely on jump scares or shock value. Its horror comes from empathy — the realization that pain, loss, and rejection are universal.
Del Toro understands that true fear stems from understanding, not ignorance. As the story unfolds, we begin to pity both Victor and his creation, trapped in a cycle of guilt and longing.
This emotional depth is what makes the 2025 movie unforgettable. It’s not just a story of science gone wrong — it’s a meditation on the human condition, filmed with artistry and sincerity.
Final Verdict – A Triumph of Heart and Horror
Leaving the theater, I felt the rare stillness that comes only after experiencing a masterpiece. Frankenstein (2025) isn’t just another adaptation — it’s a reawakening of Shelley’s vision for a modern audience.
Guillermo del Toro has crafted a gothic epic that’s both terrifying and tender, led by two towering performances from Oscar Isaac and Jacob Elordi. Its beauty lies not only in its visuals but in its empathy — its willingness to see the monster in the mirror and find something painfully human staring back.
Frankenstein (2025) stands as a film review writer’s dream — a work of art that bridges horror and philosophy, emotion and spectacle. It’s the kind of movie that reminds you why cinema exists: to make you feel, fear, and, above all, think.
Final Rating: ★★★★★ (5/5)
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