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I'm really struck by the way Guillermo del Toro crafted the second half of the story around immense empathy and understanding of the Monster in a way that almost no other adaptation has even attempted. There's a tremendous sense of ostracization and alienation that the villagers direct towards him for being presumed a vengeful, violent beast, but it really digs deep into his overwhelming loneliness, longing for acceptance, and intimate heart. It's incredibly beautiful and extremely sad when you consider the overall circumstances of the story itself. You see in several moments how beautiful the world is to him before he learns about the pitfalls of human nature, and in his early scenes his gradual understanding of the nature around him. The quietest moments, like his happiness in finding a friend, or his depressing innocence and bountiful love to give that's rebuked and destroyed by the world around him, are the ones that especially fill your heart but also leave it empty.

But perhaps even more appealing to me is how del Toro amplifies the story as a metaphor for the lasting effects abusive parents have on children, which the novel touched on but this one even more in depth. Victor at an early age receives cruel and unusual treatment from his abusive and overbearing father, who Victor sees as both a threat to him and his mother. His father belittles him, ignores his need for care, and whips him when he gets a question wrong in his studying. He seemingly put in little to no effort in the care of his mother, leading to her ultimate death. He then passes this down to the Monster, who in a sense is his father. Early on, he opens up the shades and yells "sun," which sounds like "son," which appeals to the Monster in what you can tell is the first time he feels love. In the early stages of the Monster's life, he teaches him of his surroundings, gives him care and tenderness, but ultimately assumes the abusive form of his father when the Monster starts progressing much slower than he likes. He belittles him, insistently berates him for only being able to utter the word "Victor," begs him to speak another word, and when he doesn't starts emotionally and sometimes physically abusing him. The Monster then only finds this love in Elizabeth, Victor's brother's fiancée for whom Victor has feelings, who gives the Monster the love and care he deserves. This ultimately culminates in Victor believing he made a mistake and burning down his laboratory with the Monster in it. This is what solidifies the Monster's sense of loneliness even more so than his alienation from society. This is why later in the story when he finds a "friend" he gets so attached to it. The abusive methods that Victor employs onto the Monster creates a ripple effect that impacts the decisions of the Monster through the rest of the runtime. Guillermo del Toro also uses dialogue and speech patterns to create the overall language of abusive parents.

The set design in this is truly something to behold. Some of the most tangible, gothic, elaborate sets I've seen in a while, with such painstaking attention to detail and with such a lived-in era, you are totally consumed and immersed into this world that is created. The costume design is equally great, with era-relevant, colorful, characterized wardrobes. The makeup on Elordi is absolutely incredible through and through, a complete physical transformation, and the cinematography has some shots that legitimately took my breath away. This is also one of Desplate's best scores; moody, somber, emotional, and cathartic. I defy you to name a better-looking film this year.

Oscar Isaac grants the role of Frankenstein with an understated, manic madness that only grows and grows throughout the course of the film that's much appreciated. Mia Goth and Christoph Waltz hand in memorable supporting turns. But Jacob Elordi steals the show here. A physical and emotional transformation, both his graceful presence and charming innocence combine to make a wonderfully complex and incredibly heartbreaking portrait of a monster. He has some true moments of sadness in this, and his voice, his mannerisms, his physicality are some things you won't forget for a long time. The beastly and human qualities in him shine through, granting us with what is ultimately one of the best performances of the year. It's a tight race for Best Supporting Actor this year but I hope he gets in because my god does he deserve it.

My most anticipated film of the year; and I'm so glad it turned out to be this good. It's occasionally sluggish, occasionally meandering, but with aspects this good in a story so thematically dense and compelling, in one of the most ambiguous and deep and accurate interpretations of the novel of all time, this is an undeniably breathtaking work of art.

The first hour and forty-five minutes of GANGS OF NEW YORK, Martin Scorsese's sprawling, towering American epic told on the grandest scale possible, work beautifully. Visually dazzling, intensely entertaining, and enveloped in spectacle, there's very little to dislike about the first and second acts. The sumptuous production design is filled to the brim with such elaborate detail that completely and totally immerses you into 1800s New York City, while the cinematography's gorgeous natural lighting, shot composition, extreme framing, and ravishing color ensure you marvel at every shot. If there's any grievances, it's some of the editing choices (excessive slow-mos, unbalanced pacing, uneven story structure), musical score that hinders the experience rather than enlivens in, and DiCaprio's and Diaz's performance (plain bad Irish accents and wholly uncommitted, not providing any range, gravitas, layers, or nuanced internal conflicts to characters that could've been so complex with better actors and script). But expertly-well written monologues, growing internal tension, shocking violence, and substance keep it a masterwork in American storytelling. However, the last hour of film is pretty difficult to get through. A complicated turning point happens way too early in the film and marks the end of the good section of the runtime. The rest of the runtime is filled with repetitive filler as momentum has completely run out and consequently sputters. It doesn't say as much as it wants to, the visuals become spotty and bloated, characters devolve into flat stagnates, and, ultimately, it just becomes messy. The end is a mess, pretty underwhelming (until a symbolism-heavy final two minutes bring it back) and the way there is too sprawling and all-over-the-place to connect. However, the end could be summarized by this: whenever Daniel Day-Lewis is on the screen (not enough) you are totally compelled and engaged, and whenever he's not you're waiting for him to come back. The whole entire runtime, Daniel Day- Lewis is an absolute force of nature, the reason to see the movie. One of the best performances I've ever seen, his scenery-chewing, malicious, despicable character pops off the screen through the intense layers that Day-Lewis gives him, commanding the screen both in his heated outbursts and quiet monologues. Day-Lewis's line delivery, mannerisms, and overall menacing appearance makes him one of the most memorable film villains I've seen. A clear example of a lead performance that carries a mediocre film to above-average. Watch this movie for him and the craft. It's worth it.

WEAPONS is a very funny, extremely horrifying, and shockingly graphic horror film, one of the best we've had in years. A cinematic delight on so many levels, the film consistently surprises and excites through its many twists and turns, captivating premise, and multiple interesting, lived-in characters, each with their own rich motivations, dynamics and distinctions. Each character is enlivened through the movie's inventive structure; a nonlinear narrative told through chapters, each chapter conveying a different character's point of view. As the story unfurls, we slowly start putting together the pieces of this story, each chapter filling in the gaps left behind by previous ones, until we get a satisfying cohesion and full picture of what's fully happening to the town and these kids. A lot of people found the ending underwhelming, but I absolutely loved it, combining the film's intimate heart with its sleek sense of humor and glimmer of hope. Every performance is great, but the two standouts are Josh Brolin, who rips your heart out through raw authenticity and relatability as a father who will stop at nothing to find his son, and especially Amy Madigan, who absolutely terrifies you as a sinister and malicious force of nature, turning in an offbeat, unorthodox, and brilliant performance that is one hundred percent worthy of a Best Supporting Actress Oscar nomination. There are a few disappointing filmmaking and storytelling decisions along the way (especially in the first five to ten minutes, with clunky voiceover narration, a clumsy tone, and dumpy exposition), but none can override the mesmerizing journey this movie takes you on.