Let’s get this tiny confession out of the way:
I’m a multi-published horror author who’s never read Mary Shelley’s classic novel. I didn’t need to. By the time I was interested in horror, I’d already seen a dozen versions of “Frankenstein’s Monster” told by great filmmakers from Mel Brooks to Fred Dekker. Want to know something else?
Well, let’s save it until we discuss vampire films.
I was intrigued by what Guillermo del Toro’s take of “Frankenstein” could be, but didn’t know until recently that it would be a Netflix production. That said, I wasn’t expecting much. My love for GDT runs quasi-deep with anyone else who remembers him announcing an upcoming Disney’s Haunted Mansion project…and then not delivering. It was 2011-ish. I’m not making it up. Google is free and in your pocket. Where’s our GOOD Haunted Mansion movie, del Toro?
You make me sad, sir.
Let’s see what the fine folks at Wikipedia have to say about this film:
Frankenstein is a 2025 American Gothic science fiction film[4][5] co-produced, written and directed by Guillermo del Toro, based on Mary Shelley‘s 1818 novel Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus. The film stars Oscar Isaac, Jacob Elordi, Mia Goth, Felix Kammerer, David Bradley, Lars Mikkelsen, Christian Convery, Charles Dance, and Christoph Waltz. The story follows the life of Victor Frankenstein (Isaac), an egotistical scientist whose experiment in creating new life, in the form of the Creature (Elordi), results in dangerous consequences.
Frankenstein had its world premiere in the main competition of the 82nd Venice International Film Festival on August 30, 2025. It began a limited theatrical release on October 17, 2025, with global digital release by Netflix set for November 7.[6] The film received generally positive reviews from critics, with Elordi’s performance receiving universal acclaim.
The Rev-iew
Every cinematic disappointment I’ve had throughout the last decade can be blamed on one key element: the studio. From Star Wars and Indiana Jones, to the Halloween and Jurassic franchises, their last theatrical hurrahs were lackluster to say the least. Don’t even get me started on Ghostbusters.
As a storyteller, I can still find good in all of those flops. I’ve trained myself to fill in the blanks with better explanations; leaving the bogus, hole-ridden plots provided by the actual writers to wither and die atop my own brain’s cutting room floor. Luke Skywalker isn’t dead. Not at my house.
I’ve already mentioned that I’d never read the 1818 Mary Shelley classic, so I can’t honestly tell you how or if this film follows the source material. Luckily, three-quarters of the people who’ll view this movie know little to nothing about the previous films, other than what they’ve seen in parodies and from pop culture. I know the main tale, though, same as everyone. No refreshers needed. Kill the lights. Let’s do this.
This should’ve been like shooting fish in a barrel…
Disclaimer: A 2025 styled barrel that’s so flashy it prevents you from seeing all the dead fish inside.
Of course, anyone who’s seen recent films knows going in that the main message will be that of a more human telling, leaning heavily on the monster’s perspective rather than its patriarchal predecessors. I went into this film totally blind without ever watching a single trailer. I still knew where the story was headed because this year’s Wolfman entry tried the exact same thing. As expected, it fell flat on its shape-shifting face.
This is how it works. The studio gets a gaggle of writers in the same room, throws them an IP, feeds them a ton of caffeine, and they Mad Lib the heck out of everything you ever loved as a child. Yes, Virginia, the classic monsters are fair game; same as the Ninja Turtles and Transformers. Slap their faces on anything plastic and call it a day, eh Hollywood?
(record scratch)
But…
Isn’t this a GDT production? Isn’t he the god of all things creepy? Kind of like a south-of-the-border Tim Burton?
There it is. I said it. The cat’s out of the bag.
As with the Burton’s and Shyamalan’s who’ve come before, this is del Toro’s sell-out piece. His Alice In Wonderland. His Last Airbender.
I’ve had the displeasure of watching some of the greatest filmmakers of all time sink to new lows, anchored helplessly to the studio’s will, as well as the ever-evolving habits of the typical movie viewer. This was a Netflix movie; plain and simple. It looked and felt like a Netflix movie. You know what I mean, right? Like, if movies had a smell, it would’ve smelled like a Netflix movie. They’re the new made for television or 2007’s Sci-Fi Channel Original versions of movies, and I don’t like them. They just feel…fake. Cheap. Hurried. Meh.
It’s the editing. In the simplest terms, they feel amateur; like YouTube videos.
Netflix makes the Kmart version of movies, and I’ll die on this hill! They’re the Go-Bots of movies. Voltron, but only the vehicles. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles III animatronics in motion. See where this is going?
Netflix movies are the rent-a-cops of movies if theatrical releases were the full-blown police. Theatrical releases make fun of Netflix movies in locker rooms.
But…GDT?
Sigh…
Somewhere in this jumbled mess is a Guillermo del Toro masterpiece with “Oscar nod” written all over it, and Netflix did what they do. They trimmed off the fat and sugar coated the f**k out of it until it resembled a two and a half hour Tik Tok skit.
The direction – when it wasn’t being beaten within an inch of its life in the editing room – was phenomenal.
Acting? Oscar Isaac’s portrayal of Victor Frankenstein is powerful, to say the least. As an actor, I believe his talents were wasted in the Star Wars sequel trilogy, and I look forward to seeing him in more serious projects. Well, similar projects, but with any studio other than Netflix. Netflix or Apple TV. No Amazon Prime, either. Disney Plus, maybe.
The monster? I know nothing about Jacob Elordi, but his physical talents on display in this film are noteworthy. His portrayal of the creature, especially during the second half, will be peeled apart, layer by layer, by every high school theater teacher from now until graduation night. I expect to see a flood of mimicry.
Mia Goth, whom I normally love, dripped Shakespearean honey for two thirds of this film, and then metaphorically ripped a line of toot in honor of MaXXXine. Perhaps she had somewhere to be that day, or, again, her performance was snipped to Hell and back like a naughty child with hungry scissors and an unloved head full of Barbie hair.
What about the sure thing?
Surely Christoph Waltz and his seemingly infinite talent would help me view this pawn shop version of a horror classic with more forgiving eyes but, alas, the poor man phoned it in as though he were on the cusp of a massive bowel movement the entire time, praying for GDT to yell “cut” before the point of no return. Perhaps Mia Goth was locked in there fixing here eye makeup.
I was torn minute by minute on whether or not I should walk out of the theater. In that exact moment, as though I’d thought it out loud, two couples stood up and did exactly that. During the rest of the movie, I could literally hear people exhaling and guffawing at what could’ve been something amazing. Instead, what I watched can be summed up in a single word:
Modern.
Cinema is dying; I’ve know this for a while, and I’m fairly certain most of our reasons for not giving a damn about going to the movies anymore has a lot to do with the studios. Their insistence on berating us like buffoons who will throw our hard earned cash at anything shiny is beginning to get a little old.
Let’s face it; if Disney can tarnish the unstoppable power house formerly known as Star Wars, then surely Netflix has zero qualms about taking a steaming dump atop horror royalty.
Frankenstein could’ve been epic.
Could’ve, should’ve, would’ve.
It wasn’t.
3/5 for some beautiful set design, and an incredible performance from Isaac. It’s bearable, until it’s not.
The Gonzo Wolf 
Leave a comment