”To be lost and then to be found. That is the lifespan of love,” Elizabeth (Mia Goth) tells the monster.

Lifespan. But what if one has no lifespan? Condemned to immortality? This is the core drama of Guillermo del Toro’s reimagining of Mary Shelley’s 1818 seminal novel, Frankenstein.

Not really a fan of del Toro, nor Shelley’s classic horror story—yet the fusion of the auteur’s signature fantasy-horror fairy tale style with a fresh take on the iconic monster is a match made in cinema heaven.

Bathed in teal and aquatic greens, accented by occasional amber and gold, and punctuated by shocking streaks of bright red, del Toro’s Frankenstein is a visual splendor. But the jaw-dropping, painterly cinematography goes beyond surface-level gothic beauty; it deepens the story’s emotional resonance and reveals the monster’s (Jacob Elordi) profound inner turmoil.

Mostly shot with a wide-angle 24mm lens, featuring practical lighting set outside windows and stunning modern costumes, this 2-hour-and-32-minute epic is best experienced on the big screen. Alas, it premiered straight to Netflix. Still, thank goodness for this film.

Del Toro tweaked Shelley’s story, and his Frankenstein’s monster is a thing of beauty. The towering Elordi is marble-ized with visible splices across his skin. He calls to mind Ridley Scott’s alien Engineer in Prometheus (2012), but rendered more beautiful through his “scars.”

Del Toro must have been inspired by Punch magazine’s editorial cartoon The Irish Frankenstein, giving Elordi a tattered cape and a balaclava mask at one point. A breathing sculpture, captured in low-angle shots—too big for this world, yet too different to belong.

Elordi’s deep voice only enhances the creature’s beauty. When he begins to learn speech and endures a dark night of the soul, it puts a lump in your throat. This is the core of the drama: a creature created by man, given “life unwanted.” But while audiences will naturally sympathize with the creature, del Toro balances the narrative by also exploring what drove Frankenstein (Oscar Isaac) to create him.

Divided into two chapters, with evocative voice-over narration, the film first immerses us in Frankenstein’s journey as the Creator, from his youth onward. Then it shifts to the Creature’s awakening and discovery of the world.

A newly created character, a disillusioned Elizabeth (here Frankenstein’s soon-to-be sister-in-law) develops an affinity for the Creature, drawn to its purity. She adds depth to life’s tragedy: how idealism can inadvertently spawn evil. Del Toro also fleshes out Frankenstein’s brother William (Felix Kammerer) and adds a new character, Harlander (Christoph Waltz), both essential to the narrative.

Employing elements of childhood trauma, religion, and moral ethics, del Toro continues, as in his previous work, to portray monsters not as the true villains, but men driven by greed, selfishness and ambition. Biblical parallels also abound and are explicitly woven throughout. Frankenstein and the monster sometimes symbolize God and His Creation. At one point, Frankenstein, wracked with regret, sets his laboratory ablaze rather than drown the creature. The creature is also likened to Adam, and there are references to the Tower of Babel. The creature even learns about the world through reading the Bible.

What makes Frankenstein unforgettable is its heartbreaking drama: the pain of life unwanted. Del Toro gave his monster a kind of existential pain that will bring tears to your eyes. Beyond that, the storytelling is inspired. It is visually lush and thematically rich, with beautifully nuanced, complex characters brought to life by a fitting cast and heart-wrenching, poetic dialogue. Frankenstein is truly one of this year’s best cinematic experiences.

4.5 out of 5 stars

Streaming on Netflix