Frankenstein

Frankenstein

Guillermo del Toro’s Frankenstein is a triumph of mood, imagination, and emotional depth. Every frame bears his unmistakable signature: lush Gothic design, shadowed beauty, and a sense of wonder tinged with sorrow. The film’s world feels both mythic and painfully human, a perfect match for Mary Shelley’s timeless story of ambition and loss.

Visuals & atmosphere

Del Toro’s signature flair is everywhere. The set-design, the costumes, the lighting—everything ooze Gothic grandeur and artistry. As one critic observed, the film is “a breathtaking coup … rich and strange” in its execution. The world of Victor Frankenstein and his creation is richly rendered, with a tactile sense of period, myth and menace.

Empathy for the monster

One of the strongest elements is how the creature is portrayed—not just as a horror icon but as a deeply felt being with a tragic arc. As noted: “Del Toro’s empathy for the Creature is total—and so, owing to the aching poignancy and underlying rage … is ours.” Actor Jacob Elordi gives the monster a vulnerability and presence that earn memorable space alongside the spectacle. On the other side, Oscar Isaac’s Victor Frankenstein is compelling—his obsessive ambition, his guilt and his horror all play out on a grand scale.

Thematic ambition & emotional stakes

Del Toro moves beyond mere monster-movie tropes, engaging with themes of creation and responsibility, parent/child dynamics, isolation, and the cost of hubris. One review says the film “becomes genuinely transcendent… a gothic elegy for both creator and creation.”  The shifts in viewpoint—from creator to creature—add emotional complexity and bring a fresh dimension to the familiar tale.


What doesn’t fully land

Pacing & structure

While much of the film mesmerises, the opening act is sometimes considered over-stuffed or slow. Several critics suggest the movie takes its time (and sometimes too much time) building the world before the more compelling arc takes over. At roughly 2½ hours, some viewers feel the narrative weight could have been trimmed in places.

Tone and balance

There are moments where the film sometimes tilts toward excess: visual spectacle overshadowing intimacy, or structure shifting gears in ways that feel a bit uneven. A review from TIME puts it this way: “Grand, but it’s not quite great” because the scope threatens to dilute the emotional core. Also, while many welcome the more humanised monster, purists of the original may find some of the thematic/re-contextual changes jarring.


My verdict

In total, del Toro’s Frankenstein is a major achievement. It may not be flawless, but it succeeds in reviving a classic tale with style, depth and sincerity. For fans of him or of the Gothic, it will be richly satisfying.

If I were to summarise it:

  • Recommended for viewers who appreciate visual craft, strong performances, and thoughtful re-workings of mythic material.

  • Less suited to those expecting a leaner, “traditional” horror-monster film, or those seeking tight pacing above all.


Final grade

I’d give it 4 out of 5 stars — an artist at full expression, with only a few rough edges.

Facebooktwitterlinkedininstagramflickrfoursquaremail
In Search of Japan Part One

In Search of Japan Part One

Travel in 2025 is all about motion—planes, trains, buses, and cars connecting the world in ways faster and more fluid than ever. Yet, the journey isn’t as simple as it once was. While the old hassles of customs have nearly vanished thanks to seamless digital clearance systems—but that is how the adventure begins. So it was that in October, we travelled to Japan. We visited Osaka, Kyoto, Sapporo and Tokyo. Here are the observations:

Japan stands apart from most places in the world — its food, culture, and way of life are strikingly unique. It’s also a country that excels in technology, transportation, and etiquette.

We dashed to Osaka from Hong Kong (more on that later) and settled into a small local neighborhood near the train station. It was unseasonably warm, and many people — especially the elderly — were out on their bicycles, heading to markets.

Osaka is known for its food, energy, and humor. It’s often called Japan’s “kitchen” because of its street food — takoyaki (octopus balls), okonomiyaki (savory pancakes), and kushikatsu (fried skewers). The city has a loud, friendly vibe that contrasts with Tokyo’s formality.

Overall, Japan seems to have more restaurants per block than just about anywhere.

Our first night, our host invited us to an exclusive evening at Gucci Giardino. Opened in Umeda, Osaka, in November 2024, it’s the second Gucci bar in the world — the first being in Florence, Italy.

We’re greeted at the door and escorted upstairs to a swank, intimate bar. Our bartender, Mari Tsujimura, spoils us with bespoke cocktails. In time, we’re joined by Chef Taffarello Alessio, who presents refined dishes — elegant, thoughtful, and unmistakably Italian.

The atmosphere is relaxed, inviting conversation and friendly exchanges, even within the limitations of language. When we leave, we’re literally walked to the door, bowed to, and thanked — a gesture of hospitality that feels both formal and heartfelt. We step out into the balmy Osaka night.

The next day, we head out on the bullet train to Kyoto.

Kyoto is known as the cultural heart of Japan — a city where over a thousand years of history, art, and tradition are beautifully preserved. Once Japan’s imperial capital (794–1868), it remains one of the most enchanting cities in the world.

Our destination is the Gion District, Kyoto’s most famous and historic neighborhood, known as the city’s traditional geisha quarter. It’s a place where old Kyoto’s charm still thrives — narrow cobblestone streets, wooden machiya (townhouses), lantern-lit teahouses, and an atmosphere that feels centuries old.

And it is stunning.

Maybe it’s because it’s autumn, or because it’s late afternoon, but Gion feels like a living postcard — calm, perfectly lit, touched by history. There’s a sense of quiet art direction in everything: the colors, the scents, the soft shuffle of sandals on stone. Every now and then, you glimpse a geisha walking gracefully to work, and time seems to pause.

Kyoto is a city of shrines and temples — about 400 Shinto shrines and more than a thousand Buddhist temples. The most famous is Fushimi Inari Taisha, known for its thousands of red torii gates. It’s also where you’ll find thousands of tourists. If you’re hoping for a serene photograph beneath the gates, patience (or luck) will be required.

Kyoto is also celebrated for Kyo-ryori, a cuisine that emphasizes subtle flavors and seasonal ingredients. But on this night, we opt for something local to our neighborhood — a small Italian restaurant called Il Tobanchi, a creative bar tucked inside a renovated machiya on Sanjo Ogawa.

The owner, chef, and all-around fun host is Toba, who serves a delightful mix of Japanese-Italian dishes. His wife and pet dog sit next to us, engaging in lively conversation about Kyoto, his family, and Japanese cuisine. We learn that Toba was actually born on this property and that his parents live in the back.

In many ways, Kyoto represents a part of Japan defined by quiet beauty, calm, and culture. The few days spent here are like postcards — vastly different from Osaka and especially Tokyo.

We head back to Osaka on the bullet train.

The trains in Japan are fast and efficient, but not particularly eventful. If you have a reserved seat, you simply take it and stay there for the duration. There’s no food car, but a woman with a food cart strolls by every so often. The kōmuin, or conductor, also passes through each car, and it’s worth noting that in Japan, as they enter and exit, they slightly bow.

Japan itself is an exercise in cleanliness. Japanese culture emphasizes personal hygiene, and washing after using the toilet is considered much cleaner than using only toilet paper. Japanese companies like Toto pioneered the “washlet” — a high-tech toilet with integrated bidet functions — in the 1980s. These became popular because they combined comfort, hygiene, and convenience. The washlet, or bidet, is now ubiquitous. You’ll find them in train stations and department stores — pristine, spotless, and immaculate — and, of course, in most homes.

This sense of cleanliness also extends to the gym experience in Japan. When you enter the locker room, you’re required to remove your shoes. You walk barefoot, but if you need to use the restroom, you’re offered public slippers. Once you return to the workout area, you put your shoes back on. But wait, there’s more: at every workout station, there’s a disinfectant bottle and rag to wipe down the equipment when you’re finished.

Much of this mindfulness stems from Japan’s population and culture. With 125 million people, it’s one of the most densely populated countries in the world. The nation is roughly the size of California, yet every inch feels considered. Cars tend to be small and boxy, apartments compact, and people — as a culture — remarkably in tune with one another.

Facebooktwitterlinkedininstagramflickrfoursquaremail