Guillermo del Toro doesn’t just make films — as we saw in this year’s remake of Frankenstein, he makes experiences. The Oscar-winning director of The Shape of Water has a signature style so distinctive you can spot his work from across a crowded multiplex with sunglasses on during a solar eclipse. His 2021 adaptation of William Lindsay Gresham‘s noir novel Nightmare Alley arrived as a gorgeously mounted tribute to Hollywood’s golden age of shadows. Now, Criterion’s 4K release reveals what del Toro truly intended: a black-and-white masterpiece.

The film follows Stan Carlisle (Bradley Cooper, A Star is Born), a roustabout who joins a traveling carnival and learns the secrets of mentalism from Pete (David Strathairn, Nomadland) and Zeena (Toni Collette, Hereditary). Years later, Stan has reinvented himself as a sophisticated act for wealthy clients alongside former performer Molly (Rooney Mara, Carol). When an elegant but dangerous psychiatrist named Lilith Ritter (Cate Blanchett, Black Bag) enters his orbit, Stan’s carefully constructed world begins to unravel with deadly consequences.

Blanchett steals the film. In a cast of powerhouse performers, she reminds everyone why she’s considered one of the best in the business. The extended scene between Blanchett and Cooper in her office stands as one of 2021’s most electrifying sequences — tense, layered, and magnificently performed. Seen in black and white, what had already been a pressure cooker passage has become a five-alarm fire of an honest to goodness nail biter. Cooper anchors the proceedings with his familiar brooding intensity, while supporting turns from Willem Dafoe, Richard Jenkins, and Ron Perlman flesh out del Toro’s sordid carnival world.  

The theatrical cut was stunning – I loved it then and I love it now. This extended black-and-white version, titled “Vision in Darkness and Light,” transforms the film entirely. Del Toro originally wanted to shoot in monochrome, but studio realities prevented that. Here, finally, is his complete vision and you see once again how right his instincts are. Dan Laustsen‘s extraordinary cinematography ascends to another level entirely.  The film now looks like a long-lost noir artifact seemingly unearthed from the 1940s. The interplay of shadow and light gains new dimension when the colors are drained from the scenery and costumes. Scenes that felt brisk in color now breathe with appropriate weight.

The extended cut restores material that deepens characters like Collette’s Zeena and reintroduces tarot card interstitials echoing Gresham’s original chapter headings. Nine additional minutes don’t just add talky content justifiably cut for time; they reshape the film’s rhythm. Criterion’s presentation of the 4KUHD is, unsurprisingly, reference quality. The Dolby Vision grade on the theatrical cut and the DTS-HD 5.1 remix on the extended version both deliver exceptional home theater experiences.

Extras are comprehensive. Del Toro’s commentaries overflow with insights about noir history, carny lore, and thematic intention. They same game recognizes game and any cinephile worth their salt will salivate hearing the director go over his process. New documentaries explore the film’s production design, performances, and Nathan Johnson‘s score. A nicely candid conversation between del Toro and Cooper reveals their creative shorthand. Sarah Weinman’s booklet essay traces the evolution from Gresham’s novel through the 1947 Tyrone Power adaptation to this reimagining.

Nightmare Alley was always impressive but I felt it was put on such a high pedestal before anyone saw it that it was bound to be a letdown. Now, in black and white, it becomes the essential work its fans always knew it was.