“Not machines, only human hands can create real magic.” Del Toro — director of Frankenstein — boldly rejects AI, building Victor’s laboratory entirely by hand with nails, wood, and mortar. This craftsmanship is what made the film a success. Even more surprising: he reveals the dark secret behind the dazzling special effects of other films — making viewers wonder, have they been… deceived all along

Guillermo del Toro has waited twenty-five years to bring Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein to the screen. When Netflix finally gave him the green light, he made one non-negotiable demand: no artificial intelligence, no green screens, no digital creatures. Every bolt, every corpse part, every drop of blood had to be built by human hands.

The result is a 149-minute gothic masterpiece that premiered at Venice to a five-minute standing ovation. Critics have called it “the most tactile Frankenstein ever made.” Victor Frankenstein’s laboratory, a cathedral of lightning and decay, was constructed inside a Toronto soundstage using 200-year-old reclaimed wood, real iron chains, and mortar mixed on set.

Jacob Elordi, transformed into the Creature with 42 prosthetic pieces applied daily over ten hours, moves through rooms that smell of sawdust and candle smoke. Cinematographer Brandon Trost lit the entire film with practical sources: gas lamps, lightning rigs, and actual fire. Even the snow that falls across the final act is real potato flakes blown by wind machines.

Del Toro’s obsession with the handmade began early. He kept legendary make-up artist Mike Hill on payroll for three years just to sculpt the Creature’s face. “We tested digital scans,” Hill remembers, “but Guillermo threw them away. He said the soul only lives in imperfections you can touch.”

That philosophy extended to every department. Costume designer Luisna Deverell aged fabrics with real acid and buried them in Canadian soil for weeks. Alexandre Desplat recorded the score with a 90-piece orchestra in Abbey Road, refusing synthetic strings. When Netflix executives asked for a fully CG establishing shot of the castle, del Toro reportedly replied, “Then find another director.”

The film’s success has been staggering. After limited theatrical release, Frankenstein became Netflix’s most-watched original film of 2025 within its first week. Jacob Elordi is now the frontrunner for Best Supporting Actor, and the movie sits at 77 % on Rotten Tomatoes with reviewers repeating one phrase: “You can feel the fingerprints.”

Yet the triumph has come with an unexpected side effect. In interview after interview, del Toro has begun speaking openly about what he calls “the great deception” in modern blockbusters.

In a now-viral discussion at the Toronto International Film Festival, the Mexican director dropped a bombshell that has left audiences reeling. “Some of the most celebrated visual effects of the last five years,” he said calmly, “were not created by the actors you applauded. They were replaced, sometimes entirely, by digital doubles and deepfake technology, without a single word of disclosure to the public.”

He refused to name specific titles, but the implications were clear. Entire performances in certain superhero films, space operas, and legacy sequels, he suggested, have been quietly overwritten in post-production using AI-trained likenesses. In some cases, deceased actors were resurrected for key scenes; in others, living stars were replaced because schedules changed or performances were deemed unsatisfactory.

“The audience stands and cheers for a ghost,” del Toro continued. “They believe they are watching courage, sweat, risk. But they are watching code wearing a human mask. And no one told them.”

The revelation has sparked panic across social media. Fans are combing through recent blockbusters frame by frame, searching for the telltale smoothness of AI-generated skin or the slight uncanny drift of a deepfaked mouth. Hashtags like #RealOrRendered and #DelToroWasRight trend daily.

Make-up and effects veterans have started speaking out in support. Rick Baker, the retired legend, posted on Instagram: “Guillermo is saying what we’ve all whispered for years. Some studios now treat actors like rough drafts.”

Even some directors have admitted, anonymously, that pressure to deliver impossible sequences has pushed them toward undisclosed digital replacement. One told Variety: “If we admitted every time we swapped a face, the film would be picketed. So we don’t.”

Del Toro, however, remains unapologetic. At the Venice press conference he held up a rusted bolt from Victor’s laboratory table. “This bolt was hammered by a man named Paolo in Turin. His grandfather made bolts for Mussolini’s trains. That history lives in the metal. A computer can copy the shape, but it can never copy Paolo’s grandfather.”

He then looked directly into the cameras. “When you watch my Frankenstein, you are watching 1,400 people bleed, freeze, and cry for eight months. Nothing was faked. Not one frame. That is why the Creature’s tears feel real. Because Jacob cried inside forty-two pieces of silicone, and the silicone was glued on by human fingers that trembled from cold.”

The director’s crusade has already influenced the industry. The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences is reportedly drafting new rules requiring disclosure when more than 20 % of a performance is digitally generated. SAG-AFTRA has opened urgent talks about “digital consent” clauses.

Meanwhile, Frankenstein continues to break records. Teenagers who once mocked practical effects now post videos of themselves touching the screen during the Creature’s birth scene, trying to feel the texture of Elordi’s stitched skin. Theater chains report audiences lingering after credits just to stare at the laboratory set one last time.

In a final interview before returning to Mexico, del Toro left journalists with a quiet prophecy. “We are at a crossroads,” he said. “We can let machines imitate life so perfectly that we forget what life feels like. Or we can choose the harder path: real hands, real hearts, real scars. I made my choice. Soon every filmmaker will have to make theirs.”

As the lights came up on his Frankenstein, one thing became undeniable: in an industry racing toward perfect illusion, Guillermo del Toro just proved that imperfection, built by human hands, still casts the longest shadow.

And somewhere in the darkness of a Toronto soundstage, a single rusted bolt waits for the next lightning strike, knowing it will never be replaced by code.