By Jason Osiason

Frankenstein left me unsure how to feel in the best and worst ways. Guillermo del Toro builds this enormous, haunted world full of breathtaking detail, but the story keeps slipping away from him. It is beautiful to look at, full of feeling on the surface, but somehow IS too polished to ever feel alive. I sat there in total admiration, waiting for it to hit me emotionally, and it never really did.

Oscar Isaac’s Victor Frankenstein also did not land for me. He has the obsession and intensity you expect, but there is nothing underneath it. I never felt like I understood who he was beyond the idea of a man who wants to play god. The performance stays in one gear, which makes his scenes impressive to look at but empty to watch.

Mia Goth barely gets the space to do anything, which feels like a missed opportunity. She has this strange magnetism that could have given the film danger or tenderness, but instead she’s used like a decorative piece. Every time she appeared I wanted more from her, and the movie never delivered.

Jacob Elordi carries the whole thing spectacularly though. His Creature is vulnerable, uncertain, and full of this deep sadness that feels completely human. He gives the movie its soul. There is something fascinating about how he moves and how he listens, like he is always two seconds away from understanding what it means to be alive. I kept thinking about how much of that was him and how much was del Toro speaking through him. It feels like the director’s voice lives inside that performance.

About halfway through, the film starts to lose shape. It drifts into the version of the story we all know, complete with fire and mob scenes, and it loses the intimacy that made the beginning so compelling. I found myself wishing it stayed closer to the small moments of pain and curiosity instead of expanding into fantasy and spectacle. It looks extraordinary, but it becomes less moving the bigger it gets.

There is still a lot to admire. The sets, the lighting, the way del Toro uses silence and stillness and it all feels handcrafted and full of love. You can tell how much this story means to him. But I wanted something rawer, something less controlled.

Frankenstein is masterful on a visual level and emotionally distant everywhere else. Elordi gives it the feeling it needs, but the film around him never fully finds its pulse. It is ambitious, strange, and undeniably beautiful, but also scattered and a little too proud of itself. I walked out in awe of what I saw and unsure if I felt anything real. [B]