Guillermo Del Toro's Frankenstein captures the spirit and soul of Mary Shelley's remarkable masterwork, if not exactly the letter. It is, by all accounts, just as much Del Toro's story as it is Shelley's, in the same way that he masterfully adapted Carlo Collodi's Pinocchio two years prior.

In a way, Frankenstein is cut from the same thematic cloth as many of Del Toro's previous works. It is a story of generational trauma, the pain of not living up the standards you set for yourself, and the perversion of the natural world. But above all, it is about fathers and sons, broken and battered beings, who hurt one another by their inability to love and be loved in return.

The story beats are familiar from Shelley's novel. Victor Frankenstein flees across the frozen Arctic, where he is rescued by a Norwegian explorational vessel searching for the North Pole. In his delirium, he narrates his story to the captain who, like Frankenstein, is driven by delusions of grandeur. Frankenstein tells him of his folly; how he built a creature and gave it life, and how that act has damned them both for life.

Then, the creature finds them, and demands for his story to be heard as well.

What follows is a poetic and operatic version of an iconic story that most will know, told with a fixation on all the things that captivate Del Toro. Visually, it is as beautiful as any film you'll ever see. Full of spectacular sights and imaginative creations. The Creature (played by Jacob Elordi) is a pure vision of Del Toro's imagination; part gruesome, part beautiful, and hauntingly melancholy in a way that speaks of the multitudes of lives contained within the parts Frankenstein has sown together.

Elordi is magnificent in the part, first skulking about the place like the classic Boris Karloff version, only to quickly discover a prowl and step of his own that is more reminiscent of the Faun in Pan's Labyrinth. Never before has this story gifted its creature as much time and beauty on screen.

Equally impressive is Oscar Isaac, who plays Frankenstein as a man tormented by the ghost of his father, even as his ego refuses to acknowledge it as a possibility. He's a man of great talent and even greater insecurity, and Isaac plays up the conflicting emotions with great nuance. Watch as he goes from supremely charming to on the defense within seconds of a conversation as someone says the wrong thing. Even if it's not meant as a sleight, the traumatized mind will construe it as such.

The beauty of Del Toro's version comes from the intimacy of its great conflict. The first half is dedicated entirely to the pursuit of an idea, no matter the cost or repercussions. Isaac's Frankenstein chases life because everyone tells him it is impossible. The moment he creates it, he doesn't know what to do with it. There is an insinuation that this is the curse of his life entire. Even if he were to find love, its very existence would baffle him.

When Frankenstein and his Creature meet, there's an almost romantic tension in their discovery. The dynamic and power play is sublime. Isaac is forceful and anxious, full of every expectation he has carried for decades to this point. Elordi is lost in the miracle of the moment. For him, everything is new. Watch the disappointment on Isaac's face as he realizes his immediate needs will go unanswered for now, or even for years to come.

For such a grand and gothically melodramatic film, Frankenstein is at its loveliest when it is still. In the moments where Elordi listens to stories for the first time, or where Isaac watches his Creature from a distance, struggling with the feelings of a parent disappointed in their child. Del Toro lets both of these moments breathe, and they are tragic and poignant in equal measure.

Which isn't to say Frankenstein is some dour, ponderous event. It is exciting and thrilling, often funny, and sweeping in a way that brings to mind the classic Hammer films it so clearly evokes. The iconic birthing sequence is both traditional and completely new, as Del Toro refuses to recycle any famous line or cinematic primer we've witnessed before. He gets one shot at making this his own, and he seizes it with both hands.

Frankenstein is a breathtaking and deeply moving adaptation of an iconic literary achievement. The fact that it feels like a child of both Shelley and Del Toro is remarkable. It is the product of two worlds a century apart, yet it feels timeless and original as if just told for the first time.