In the flickering torchlight of a Gothic dungeon, where chains rattle like whispered curses and the air hangs heavy with the scent of damp stone and unspoken longing, cinema’s most iconic monster met his first true gaze of humanity. This wasn’t just a scene from Guillermo del Toro’s long-dreamed Frankenstein – it was a lightning strike, a raw collision of vulnerability and monstrosity that left the entire crew frozen in reverent awe. Jacob Elordi, swathed in layers of prosthetic flesh and fury as the Creature, and Mia Goth, ethereal as Elizabeth Lavenza, had been strictly forbidden by Del Toro from so much as exchanging a glance or a handshake before cameras rolled. “It was the moment the monster first encounters a human,” the director explained, his voice laced with the fervor of a man resurrecting a lifelong obsession. The result? An inexplicable current – part terror, part tenderness – that crackled between them when the dungeon door groaned open, birthing one of 2025’s most mesmerizing on-screen connections. And after that first, breathless take? Elordi turned to Goth and whispered a single sentence, so charged with intimacy that the crew exchanged knowing nods: something profoundly unusual, almost supernatural, had sparked to life. 😱

Now streaming on Netflix to global acclaim – with a 78% Rotten Tomatoes score and critics dubbing it “peak Del Toro” for its lush Gothic romance and philosophical bite – Frankenstein isn’t merely an adaptation of Mary Shelley’s 1818 masterpiece; it’s a throbbing elegy to creation, rejection, and the fragile beauty of being seen. At its heart pulses this dungeon encounter, a pivot that transforms the Creature from Victor’s discarded abomination into a soul yearning for connection. As Elordi’s hulking form stirred in the shadows, his eyes – wide with newborn wonder and ancient pain – locking onto Goth’s compassionate stare, audiences worldwide have felt that same electric hush. But how did Del Toro orchestrate such alchemy? What secrets simmered beneath the ban? And why has this moment, more than any fiery climax or stormy resurrection, become the film’s haunting heartbeat? Strap in for a deep dive into the shadows of Frankenstein – where monsters find mirrors, and forbidden glances forge legends.

Del Toro’s Monstrous Obsession: From Childhood Sketches to Netflix Resurrection

Guillermo del Toro has been chasing the ghost of Frankenstein since he was a boy in Guadalajara, Mexico, doodling stitched-together behemoths in the margins of his schoolbooks. “It’s the ultimate fairy tale of hubris and humanity,” he once confided, his eyes alight like a mad scientist’s lab. For decades, the project flickered like a guttering candle: first at Universal in the ill-fated Dark Universe era, where frequent collaborator Doug Jones was eyed for the Creature, then shelved amid franchise flops. Netflix finally flipped the switch in 2023, granting Del Toro a $120 million canvas to paint his vision unfettered – a two-part epic blending Shelley’s Arctic frame with a Crimean War backdrop, infusing Paradise Lost echoes and Del Toro’s signature tactile horrors.

Premiering at the Toronto International Film Festival in September 2025 before a limited theatrical run and November 7 Netflix drop, Frankenstein roared to the top of global charts within days, amassing millions of views and sparking endless debates: Is Victor (Oscar Isaac) the true monster, or is it the society that shuns his creation? Del Toro leans hard into the latter, crafting a narrative where the Creature’s “Tale” – a mid-film flashback narrated in voiceover – unfolds as a tragic bildungsroman, his innocence corrupted not by innate evil, but by relentless rejection. Critics from The New York Times to The Hollywood Reporter hail its “operatic scope” and “bold color palette,” with Alissa Wilkinson praising how it “honors the philosophical depth of Shelley’s novel while elevating it through Del Toro’s audiovisual sorcery.”

Yet, for all its sweeping visuals – Dan Laustsen’s cinematography bathing Midgard-like wilds in Rackham-inspired glows, Alexandre Desplat’s score swelling like a siren’s lament – it’s the intimate human (or inhuman) moments that linger. None more so than the dungeon scene, shot late in production to capture the actors’ frayed edges after months of grueling shoots. Del Toro, ever the alchemist, knew chemistry couldn’t be faked; it had to be conjured from isolation and instinct. Enter the ban: No rehearsals, no casual chats, no brushes of hands in the makeup trailer. Elordi and Goth, strangers in the truest sense, were kept worlds apart until that fateful door swung wide. “We didn’t even rehearse this because you could never mimic that again,” Goth later reflected, her voice a mix of thrill and trepidation. The payoff? A sequence so viscerally alive it feels stolen from the ether, freezing time in a single, shared breath.

The Dungeon’s Threshold: Dissecting the Scene That Stopped Hearts

Imagine the setup: Victor, feverish and guilt-ridden after animating his patchwork progeny, chains the Creature in the castle’s bowels – a labyrinthine prison evoking both medieval torment and Victorian asylum. Enter Elizabeth, not the demure ingénue of lore, but a “beetle bride” of quiet steel (Goth’s dual role as Victor’s lost mother Claire adds Freudian layers, her purple accents linking her fate to the Creature’s). Drawn by guttural cries echoing through the halls, she descends, veil fluttering like a moth to flame. The door creaks – and there he is: Elordi’s colossus, 6’5″ of quivering sinew and sorrow, prosthetics (42 pieces, 11 hours daily) rendering him a fleshy grotesque, no neck bolts but scars like lightning maps.

Del Toro shot the entire Elordi-Goth arc at 36 frames per second – a subtle warp allowing slowed gestures (Elizabeth’s veil lift as a “moth flutter”) or accelerated tremors (her gloved hand quaking) – to amplify emotional resonance. “You can feel that effect leaning on every beat,” he tweeted post-release, responding to fans dissecting the uncanny rhythm. Silence reigns first: Desplat’s strings fade, leaving only labored breaths and clinking irons. Then, Goth’s line – a single, shattering query: “Who hurt you?” Delivered not as accusation, but aching empathy, it pierces the Creature’s defenses. Elordi’s response? A guttural rumble, eyes welling with the weight of unformed grief. No dialogue needed; their stares do the work, a dialogue of the damned.

The crew’s freeze? Legendary now. “The room went still,” makeup wizard Mike Hill recalled in Entertainment Weekly’s breakdown, where the team dissected the magic: Set designer Tamara Deverell’s “evocative and beautiful” cell, costume maven Kate Hawley’s veiled enigma, Laustsen’s shadows pooling like spilled ink. Post-take, as lights flickered up, Elordi – voice muffled through false teeth – leaned in and murmured something soft, unscripted. Whispers vary: “That felt alive” or a simple “Thank you,” but all agree it sealed the spell. “Something unusual bloomed,” Goth told Collider, laughing at the memory. “Pressurized? Absolutely. But wonderful.” That “vibration,” as Desplat termed it, echoes Shelley’s theme: In a world of creators who wound, it’s the wounded who heal.

Fans on X (formerly Twitter) have meme-ified the moment – edits syncing it to swelling orchestral drops, threads debating if it’s “the new Phantom of the Opera gaze.” One viral post from @cntariogothic captures the tearful hope in Elordi’s stare: “Oh, Guillermo del Toro and Jacob Elordi, I adore you so.” It’s not hyperbole; this scene alone has propelled Frankenstein into awards chatter, with Elordi’s “standout” turn earning early Oscar whispers.

Jacob Elordi: From Euphoria’s Bad Boy to Frankenstein’s Beating Heart

At 28, Jacob Elordi has bulldozed from The Kissing Booth‘s teen heartthrob to Saltburn‘s twisted aristocrat, but Frankenstein marks his apotheosis – a role that demanded he shed vanity for vulnerability. Replacing Andrew Garfield post-SAG strikes (a tip from Priscilla‘s hairstylist sealed it), Elordi dove headfirst into isolation: Holed up in a Toronto Gothic manse, bingeing Karloff classics on Del Toro’s orders (“It’s a movie, it can’t hurt you”), he emerged transformed. “I devoured Boris,” he admitted, but channeled Christopher Lee’s pathos too – less rampage, more lament.

The physical toll? Brutal. Eleven-hour makeup marathons left him “exhausted, raw,” yet it fueled authenticity: “The weight informed his movements – that lumbering grace.” Isaac joked on set about carrying Goth post-“rescue” lifts: “Why again, Guillermo? I am a person!” But Elordi’s endurance shone; Del Toro called him “superhuman,” praising how the prosthetics “bled into the purity.” Off-screen levity balanced the grind: Laughter erupted at his reveal – Isaac quipping, “Idiot, should’ve asked for more money!” – forging a cast bond as tight as family.

Elordi’s eyes steal the scene: Childlike amid the carnage, they convey the Creature’s soul – a tabula rasa scarred by betrayal. “He found peace in the process,” EW noted, his performance delivering “invigorating volts.” Post-fame regrets (Kissing Booth included), this cements his ascent: From Netflix pretty boy to awards contender, Elordi’s Creature isn’t monstrous; he’s mirror to our own hidden hurts.

Mia Goth: Horror Royalty, Unveiled in Empathy

Mia Goth, 32, horror’s unblinking queen (Pearl, X, Infinity Pool), wears duality like a second skin: Elizabeth, Victor’s unspoken obsession and brother’s fiancée; Claire, his spectral mother whose death haunts the lab. “Beetle-like,” Hawley designed her wardrobe – iridescent purples tying her to the Creature’s armored hide – symbolizing fragile armor over fierce heart.

The ban thrilled her: “No preconceived notions,” she told Collider, embracing the “pressurized environment” that mirrored Elizabeth’s daring descent. That first encounter? Instinct over intellect: “No recollection of the magic – just being there.” Her veil-lift moment, per Del Toro, was Elizabeth’s sole unveiling: “The first time you reveal yourself to anyone.” Goth sent Elordi gifts amid his isolation – echoes of her character’s nurturing – easing the divide the ban enforced.

Her “Who hurt you?” lands like a lifeline, Goth wrestling its singularity: “One line is hardest – natural, believable?” Fans swoon over their “another-level chemistry,” X threads gushing: “Devastating beautiful… impeccable.” Goth’s lesson from Del Toro? Surrender: “Go with what’s happening, not imposing will.” In a film of imposed creations, her empathy liberates.

The Ensemble’s Shadow Play: Isaac, Waltz, and a Gothic Tapestry

Isaac’s Victor is no brooding Byronic hero – he’s “frenzied,” abusive, a war-profiteer stitching life from battlefield dead, funded by Waltz’s shadowy patron. “Loathsome,” per Reddit raves, his rejection births the rage Del Toro indicts as humanity’s sin. Waltz adds suave menace; Charles Dance looms as the patriarch in flashbacks. Supporting: Felix Kammerer, Lars Mikkelsen, David Bradley – a village Del Toro credits wholly, denouncing AI at the Gotham Awards: “The artistry shines because hands made it.”

The production? Operatic: Desplat’s hauntings, Hawley’s “beetle” gowns, Deverell’s sets – Crimson Peak redux with Crimean grit. Del Toro argued fiercely for the ending – a burning catharsis he “fought tooth and nail” to keep.

Fan Inferno and Awards Ember: The Spark Catches Fire

X ablaze: #Frankenstein trends with Elordi-Goth edits, @EW’s breakdown video hitting millions. Venice red carpet sizzled; Palm Springs honors Del Toro, Isaac, Elordi, Goth – first joint director-cast win. International raves: Brazil calls it “ousada reimaginação.” Oscar buzz? Elordi’s “career-defining,” per Variety; the film eyes 10 nods.

r/blankies hails Elordi: “Incredible… the movie would fall apart without him.” Yet dissent: Some decry length, Mia’s “kinda bad” in spots – but consensus? Monstrous triumph.

Echoes from the Grave: Why This Spark Endures

Del Toro’s Frankenstein whispers: Monsters are made, not born – Victor the fiend, his creation the mirror. That dungeon spark? Proof risk births revelation. As Elordi tells Paltrow on Goop, Netflix’s Sarandos championed his casting; the ban, a gamble that paid in gold.

Stream it – feel the jolt. In Del Toro’s labyrinth, the misunderstood find grace… and forbidden sparks light eternal fires. Who’s the real monster in your reflection?