Okay, let’s talk about this. Guillermo Del Toro’s Frankenstein. the towering, tragic monster that helped shape modern horror, is not getting a theatrical release. Instead, it’s heading straight to Netflix. Are you kidding me?
If you’ve read even one of my pieces, you already know I’m a die-hard fan of the Classic Universal Monsters. Dracula, The Mummy, The Wolf Man, and, of course, the ultimate misunderstood creature—Frankenstein. These icons deserve respect. Reverence, even. And Frankenstein? He’s long overdue for a proper return to form, with all the beauty and dread that made him timeless in the first place.
That’s why when I heard Guillermo Del Toro, the maestro of monsters, was taking the reins on a new Frankenstein film, I was thrilled. This is the guy who gave us Pan’s Labyrinth, Crimson Peak, The Shape of Water, movies that blend horror, heart, and haunting visuals like no one else can. So when the trailer dropped and it looked gorgeous, a perfect mix of gothic and soul-stirring, I was ready. Ready to sit down in a dark theater, surrounded by the sound of collective gasps and awe.
But no. Netflix.
Look, I’m not here to throw shade at Netflix completely. They’ve brought us Stranger Things, Squid Game, and plenty of other great originals. But del Toro is not just another director trying to get his foot in the door. He’s Guillermo Del Toro. He’s earned the big screen. He’s meant for the big screen.
This isn’t just about prestige, it’s about experience. The kind of atmospheric tension and sweeping visual storytelling del Toro brings doesn’t belong on your living room TV with the dog barking and your phone buzzing. It belongs in the theater, where the lights are low, the speakers thunder, and you feel every step of the creature’s tragic journey in your bones.
So yeah, I’m frustrated. Frankenstein deserves his moment. Del Toro deserves that moment. And frankly, audiences deserve that moment. Justice for GDT. Justice for the monster. Give us our theatrical release.
