Frankenstein

This Frankenstein is drenched in loneliness. Every frame feels cold, damp, and heavy, like the world itself is grieving. Oscar Isaac plays Victor with this perfect mix of obsession and quiet guilt, like a man who can’t admit he ruined his own life. And Jacob Elordi… he doesn’t act the Creature — he wears the pain of being unwanted. His eyes do more storytelling than half the dialogue. It hurts. I love how del Toro refuses to let you hide from the emotional mess. Every choice Victor makes comes back to haunt him, and every time the Creature reaches out, the world slaps his hand away. It’s tragic because you understand both of them… and you know it can only end in disaster. Some people will complain it’s slow, or “not faithful enough,” but honestly? I don’t care. This movie feels felt — like del Toro poured his own wounds into it. It’s gothic, it’s intimate, it’s heartbreaking in a way that sneaks up on you. By the end, I wasn’t scared. I was sad. Deeply sad. Because the monster isn’t a monster. He’s just someone who never got a chance to be loved.