There is a specific kind of silence that falls over a theater when a monster movie transcends its genre. It’s not the silence of fear; it’s the silence of heartbreak. I felt it when I first saw Karloff reach for the light in James Whale’s 1931 original, and apparently, Martin Scorsese felt it watching Guillermo del Toro‘s Frankenstein.
“I actually dreamed of it,” Scorsese said. “It’s a remarkable work. Grand opera.”
When the man who made Taxi Driver starts dreaming about your creature feature, you haven’t just made a movie. You’ve performed an exorcism.
Let me confess something: When the early reports from Venice trickled out—mixed reviews, polite applause—I got nervous. I thought maybe del Toro had finally flown too close to the gothic sun. I worried this was another expensive Netflix fumble, a beautiful, empty thing destined to be buried by the algorithm.
I was wrong. Dead wrong.
The Resurrection
The turnaround has been nothing short of miraculous. After Telluride, the narrative flipped. Audiences didn’t just like it; they devoured it. The film is currently sitting at a 94% verified audience score, which is absurd for a horror drama. It’s been in Netflix’s top five for weeks. Screenings in New York and LA are selling out months after release.
This isn’t marketing. Marketing can buy a weekend; it can’t buy a cult following.
And now the cavalry has arrived. The list of directors publicly praising this film reads like the guest list for the coolest dinner party in history: Francis Ford Coppola, Alfonso Cuarón, Jon Favreau, Bradley Cooper, Ava DuVernay, Bill Hader, Celine Song. Margot Robbie called it del Toro’s “magnum opus.”
Scorsese’s Crusade
Scorsese’s endorsement hits different, though. He has a history of stepping into the ring for del Toro. Remember his op-ed for Nightmare Alley? He called that film “disturbing and exhilarating” when critics were dismissing it as too nasty. He saw the noir rot underneath the polish and loved it.
Now he’s calling Frankenstein “grand opera.” He’s right. Del Toro doesn’t do subtle. He does emotion at maximum volume. He directs like he’s composing a symphony for outcasts.
I keep arguing with myself about Jacob Elordi. Is he really an Oscar contender for playing the Monster? Then I look at the stillness of his performance, the way he conveys centuries of loneliness with a tilt of his head, and I shut up. It’s the kind of physical acting we haven’t seen since Doug Jones in The Shape of Water.
Why This Matters
We live in a cynical time. Movies are “content.” Monsters are CGI assets. But del Toro believes—truly, madly, deeply—that monsters are us.
The industry rallying around Frankenstein feels like a collective exhale. It’s filmmakers looking at one of their own who refused to compromise his vision for a streaming release and saying, “Yes. This is what we’re supposed to be doing.”
Scorsese dreamed of it. I’m still thinking about it.
Maybe the monsters are winning after all.
Why The Industry Is Obsessed
The Scorsese Seal
His praise legitimizes the film as “cinema,” not just “content.” It signals to voters that this is serious art, worthy of Best Picture consideration.
The Director’s Club
When Coppola, Cuarón, and Cooper all align, it creates a consensus that goes beyond critics. It’s the industry protecting its own artistic ambition.
The Audience Disconnect
The gap between the tepid Venice critics and the rabid audience response proves that del Toro taps into a primal emotional vein that festival bubbles sometimes miss.
Netflix’s Legitimacy
Having a film that sells out theaters and dominates streaming charts is the holy grail for Netflix. It proves their model can support true cinema events.
FAQ
Why did Martin Scorsese write about Nightmare Alley and now Frankenstein?
Scorsese sees a kindred spirit in del Toro—a director who prioritizes visual language and deep emotion over commercial trends. He defends these films because he believes they represent the kind of “cinema” that is in danger of disappearing: personal, grand, and challenging.
Is Frankenstein a horror movie or a drama?
It is both, which is typical for del Toro. While it features gruesome imagery and tension (horror), its core is a tragedy about abandonment and the search for love (drama). Scorsese calling it “grand opera” suggests it leans heavily into the tragic, emotional scale of the story.
Why was the reception at Venice mixed?
Film festivals can be echo chambers where “divisive” or “sincere” films struggle against cynical or intellectual critiques. Frankenstein is an earnest, emotional film, which sometimes plays better with general audiences (who want to feel) than with critics (who are analyzing form).
Will Jacob Elordi get an Oscar nomination?
It is increasingly likely. The industry support, combined with the physical difficulty of the role and the “transformative” nature of the makeup/performance, checks all the boxes for a Supporting Actor campaign.
