What happens when a creature gets built to live but never learns how to belong?

Director Guillermo del Toro’s two-and-a-half-hour gothic film Frankenstein answers that question with aching loneliness instead of typical horror. This approach especially appeals to viewers who enjoy emotionally driven films and symbolic storytelling rather than traditional scares.

This Golden Globes nominee delivers a beautiful reimagining of  Frankenstein, possibly topping every other version brought to the screen. Rather than focusing on the “destructive monster”, del Toro creates a film that feels emotionally heavy without relying on shock value.

One of the most memorable parts of the movie is the anatomical horror. Grim and grotesque imagery fills Victor Frankenstein’s experiments, but it has meaning. Every surgical detail adds to the horror by reminding viewers that the Creature’s life started through disturbing science. This visual discomfort is heightened by frantic camera shots that trap the audience in the room with Victor (played by Oscar Isaac) and his work, as if you’re seeing how he sees. When Victor admits “In seeking life, I created death,” the line hits hard, revealing his realization of the harm done to the world because of his obsession.

Del Toro also packs the film with religious symbolism and strong visual metaphors that reflect Victor’s falling mental state. An angel statue burning in hellfire appears more than once, showing how Victor sees himself as both creator and destroyer. Whenever the Creature enters a scene, darkness grows heavier, almost as if even the sun turns against him. These directing choices make the world feel hostile, pushing the Creature deeper into isolation.

The film’s structure and acting push the story even further. The movie splits into two parts: Part I: Victor’s Tale and Part II: The Creature, giving the audience a chance to rethink who the real monster might be.

Jacob Elordi plays the Creature with slow, careful movements. He doesn’t hunt like a villain; he moves like someone lost in a place that never wanted him. Big hands hover near doors, always close, hardly ever allowed to stay.

Victor Frankenstein stands on the other side, wrapped in pride and ego instead of scars. Mia Goth’s Elizabeth brings warmth to the story, and her soft leitmotif adds emotion, especially in scenes where Victor’s tough exterior cracks, though her role could have been explored further.

Compared to older Frankenstein movies (such as Frankenstein (2015) and Frankenstein (2014), etc.), which often emphasize fear or spectacle, del Toro’s version feels like a tragic character study. Love and companionship drive the story-not romance, but the basic need to feel seen without fear. Small moments carry huge meaning: a shared glance, a hand almost touching another, a voice softening when someone chooses kindness over terror.

Overall, I rate the film 5/5 stars, and it’s a perfect snow-day movie. In the end, del Toro answers the opening question clearly: a life without belonging becomes its own kind of horror.

(Small warning: the intense anatomical gore may bother some viewers.)