Ialways pity those who watch films with reviewers — poor souls, made to endure tiny notepads and tinier grunts of disapproval, hungry for flaws.

But some 20 minutes into Guillermo del Toro’s ‘Frankenstein’, I found myself abandoning the notepad altogether. Not because the film is flawless (it isn’t), but because the film is so steeped in its own ache, so deliberate in every trembling frame, that critique begins to feel like vandalism.

You simply surrender, the way one returns to a lover they know will ruin them.

Del Toro has been haunted by the lore of Frankenstein since boyhood. And now, the Creature has risen, played by Jacob Elordi — a 6-foot-5 apparition of impossible symmetry. Elordi, who usually walks through films as if evolution paused to admire him, is here reassembled from dea

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