Overview: Oscar-winning director Guillermo del Toro adapts Mary Shelley’s classic tale of Victor Frankenstein, a brilliant but egotistical scientist who brings a creature to life in a monstrous experiment that ultimately leads to the undoing of both the creator and his tragic creation.

Verdict: When Mary Shelley published Frankenstein in 1818, she did not have a safety net. As genres, horror and science fiction were in their infancy—she couldn’t draw from any tropes, traditions, or cliches. Instead, she relied more on tragedy and melodrama, creating a horror story that has more depth than the classic 1931 Universal film from James Whale.

Guillermo del Toro’s new Frankenstein adaptation is also like that. It’s not scary in any modern sense, but in the ways in which its characters are trapped within their natures. Unlike Kenneth Branagh’s 1994 version, which was faithful to a fault, del Toro has the wherewithal to have the look of the film match its subject matter.

In high Gothic style, the story of the mad scientist and his hideous creation has never been more visually sumptuous. With terrific performances to boot, del Toro’s long-awaited film is the definitive movie version of the classic novel.

When we meet Victor Frankenstein (Oscar Isaac), he’s on the verge of death. Rescued from the ice in the Arctic, the crew of a shipping vessel nurses him back to health. Most of the story is told in flashback, with Victor explaining how he ended up in the frozen ocean.

In del Toro’s version, Victor’s desire to create life began early when his father (Charles Dance), a stern physician, could not save his mother from the perils of childbirth. These scenes are shot in an elegant English mansion, with all the signifiers of obscene wealth that no doubt influenced Victor’s monstrous ego.

As a brilliant doctor, Victor is consumed by the idea of creating life, which alienates him from his contemporaries. Still, he catches the attention of the wealthy arms dealer Henrich Harlander (Christoph Waltz), who decides to be Victor’s benefactor.

Now with limitless resources, Victor heads to an abandoned mansion in the Scottish Highlands to create a new man from spare parts. But the Creature he creates (Jacob Elordi) disgusts him so much that Victor tries to burn him alive. As most of us know, the Creature escapes, develops intelligence, and wants an explanation—or maybe revenge—from his creator.

Like del Toro’s earlier films, his knack for production design has no rival. This Frankenstein looks terrific, an architectural wonder full of bold colors. Victor’s lab, for example, is full of deep greens, bizarre symmetry, and giant windows. No one would ever build a lab that looks this way, which is part of del Toro’s larger point.

His Frankenstein exists in a heightened world, one where exaggeration is an extension of Victor’s mania. Later, when the Creature learns about humanity from a blind man (David Bradley), the setting is homey and traditional, a reflection of the dependable values and decency that the man bestows. Along with cinematographer Dan Laustsen, del Toro brings each set to life, almost literally, and not unlike what Victor does with the Creature. All the visual choices, right down to the costumes and edits, are also a kind of metaphor.

The rich production values and special effects leave no room for timid acting. Isaac has played a mad scientist before in Alex Garland’s Ex Machina, but instead of a manipulative tech bro, his Victor is a foppish know-it-all who harbors the delusion that he is beyond morality. When he meets his brother’s fiancée Elizabeth (Mia Goth), he attempts to seduce her almost immediately because, to him, no genius should be denied anything he wants.

Isaac does not excuse Victor’s conduct, instead he leans in to it so he becomes the closest thing the movie has to a villain. Whereas Isaac is full of aristocratic mannerisms, the monster’s movements are almost feral. At 6-foot-5, Elordi is a tall actor; at first he moves like an animal, his sinewy body bending so we cannot quite sense his strength. It is not until later, when the Creature seeks out his creator, that Elordi moves with confidence and inhuman power. Elordi gives a fascinating physical performance, and his dialogue is spoken deliberately, with a tragic sense of irony.

Shelley’s story has always posed the larger question: If the creature was cast aside so thoughtlessly by his creator, what does that say about our relationship to God? Notions of religion, guilt, and responsibility are pervasive throughout every Frankenstein, just never with this depth. A typical horror film would explore these themes with violence and gore, but del Toro takes a more cerebral approach, giving his characters mature dialogue, an opportunity to reflect on their mistakes, and become better people before it is too late.

But cerebral doesn’t mean there isn’t any thrilling action, like when the indomitable Creature fights off his attackers, both man and beast. These scenes offer del Toro a way to depict the Creature’s profound alienation.