Frankenstein: Of Monsters and Men

Hello, peeps! I'm back after a long break to pour out my thoughts on one of the most brilliant films I've seen in a long while: Guillermo del Toro's Frankenstein, starring Oscar Isaac, Jacob Elordi, Mia Goth, and Christoph Waltz. I literally sat through it twice (yes, I loved it that much), and thought slightly different things both times, so I have a lot to say!

Let me preface this by saying I'm generally a staunch purist when it comes to film adaptations of legendary texts. Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, which I studied in my first year of BA, is one of my favourite novels. She has imbued the book with so much love and intelligence and layered thematic imagery that more than 200 years later, it's still super relevant. So when I found out that the film deviated from the book in some ways, I wasn't pleased, but decided to sit down and watch it anyway, even if just to criticise it, lol. Once I finished it, though, I had to admit I was absolutely blown away.

Frankenstein is the type of adaptation that pays the novel a very respectful tribute, but also breaks away from it to be seen as its own work, which is something I really appreciate. This is del Toro's passion project, something he's wanted to make since he was ten, and one can tell. It's a very immersive and atmospheric film-- I didn't even realise when it ended because I was so engrossed-- and there's a lot of love in every shot. It's visually stunning and there's a lot of interesting imagery to unpack here, which hooked me at once, as I love analysing visual media. The film is graphic and morbid, yet strangely beautiful,  just like the novel (and the most intriguing bit about the visuals is the very intentional usage of colour. Red, black, white, and green recur throughout the film).

The film picks up a lot of the novel's themes-- man playing God and symbolising the modern Prometheus, the Creature functioning as an abandoned Adam, the hubristic nature of the man who would transgress into God's boundaries, and the consequences of this. It's a grotesque, tragic tale of Creation gone wrong, very Miltonesque. But it also introduces some themes Mary didn't include: familial trauma and the cycle of generational abuse. I think these themes work quite well in the film and are handled with care, lending it a very poignant touch.

The performances are great across the board. Isaac really slips into Victor Frankenstein's skin, playing him in a way that's simultaneously fascinating and revolting. The classic "mad scientist" vibe is combined with a dramatic flair akin to a stage magician's-- but there are layers of trauma and remorse to him that emerge from under the swaggering exterior. He's so excellent, I forgot it was a performance; he has oodles of charisma and is very compelling, infusing Victor with complexity and really making one empathise with him (and I'll say this: the man is a stunner. Truly).

Elordi portrays the Creature's childlike innocence, vulnerability, and eventual rage quite well-- his eyes are expressive, and the changes in his body language as the character evolves are praiseworthy. This, too, is an empathy-evoking portrayal; however, I thought the film dragged significantly when Victor was absent during the Creature's Tale (a minor nitpick, but this isn't something I've seen most people mention. Victor is, by far, the more intriguing character of the two).

The changes made to the character of Elizabeth (played by Mia Goth) are interesting, as she's the first one to show the Creature affection, and is therefore instrumental in teaching him about empathy and kindness, but more could've been done with her character arc (also, some of her dresses are so beautiful!). Special shoutout to Christoph Waltz, who plays Elizabeth's uncle, Henrich Harlander (an original character): some of the best and most meme-able lines in the film come from him.

The film may not come off as complex as the novel-- for one, it's not subtle with some of its themes and sometimes outright tells the audience what to think. However, I disagree with those that say the film strips the tale of all complexity. There's certainly nuance in the film as well, and I like how it follows the novel's narrative structure, allowing us to delve into the minds of both Victor and the Creature. In particular, the central theme of the film-- the dynamic between different generations of fathers and sons-- is beautifully handled. 

I like the novel's ending because it's realistic, although deeply tragic-- but I slightly prefer the more hopeful note the film ends on. I won't spoil it further, but it's a tear-jerker, in the best possible way. It's an unexpected but very poetic conclusion, and it's beautiful. It's cathartic and powerful, and effectively wraps up what the film set out to accomplish (and I love happy endings!).

All in all: this isn't really Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. It's Guillermo del Toro's Frankenstein, but it's so well done and the vision is so clear that I truly admire it. It's a gorgeous work of art, and it's helped me realise that creative liberties don't necessarily do the original work a disservice-- they can open up new avenues of thought and interest.

... Whew, that was long! I hope you liked it, and let me know what you think of the film! I'm off to watch it for the third time, hehe!

Icarus Reborn

 Hello, folks! I'm back with a new poem :) 

We're all familiar with the myth of Icarus, son of the extremely skilled craftsman Daedalus, the boy who flew too close to the sun and paid for it dearly. It's often used as a cautionary tale, to advise people to not soar too high, too fast. My poem is inspired by this tale. Please read it and let me know your thoughts!

Long, long ago, when gods and monsters walked among men, 

There lived a young lad called Icarus. 

You must have heard of him; everyone has-- 

The little upstart who thought he could conquer the sun

Only to have his wings burnt off by the sun's regal fury. 

It's said he fell into the sea. 

"Do not be like Icarus," they told me 

When my wings began to sprout. 

"Do not give in to temptation; soaring through the skies is forbidden." 

Every night, they would tell me of Icarus's gruesome end, twisting the tale to suit themselves; 

But I found myself strangely unfazed. 

Every morning, I would reach out through the dismal little window, 

Feeling the warmth of the sun's rays on my fingers. 

How could one so gentle and loving burn a boy for simply dreaming?

My wings grew, as did their fear and hatred.

When I finally escaped their clutches and flew toward the distant little ball of light,

They shot me with fire arrows and brought me hurtling down. 

Then they clipped my wings and chained me, but all I could think of was this: 

The sun did not burn or punish me. 

They did. 

Through these dark and lonely days, only the faintest glimmers of sunlight buoyed me. 

"Don't give up," they whispered. "Come to us." 

My clipped wings grew anew, stronger and lovelier than ever before--

Gold and crimson and purple,

as though molded by the sun's loving hands. 

Now, I knew that I could beat the darkness. 

With an almighty effort I shattered the fetters, 

And gave my wings one massive flap. 

Up I went-- like a shooting star across the night sky;

And this time, although I heard their cries and the whistle of their arrows, 

not a single one could graze me.

It felt like an eternity before I felt the first faint rays of the sun, 

Giving my tired wings new life. 

I cannot be tired when I am so close, I thought, as my eyes scanned the horizon.

It is said that mortals cannot withstand the sun's imperial splendour;

They go blind, mad, or fall into the sea. 

But not me-- it was right there, 

A huge ball of heat, light, and hope. 

Terrifying, to be sure-- I felt its heat on my wings-- but also so beautiful and loving, 

Just like my dreams. 

As I drew closer, do you know what I saw?

Within the massive rays of the sun, there was a boy 

with hair and wings made of flame. 

He was crimson and gold and purple, 

and he seemed to be saying "Come, come."

Closer and closer I drew, till the sun pulled me into its embrace. 

Neither Icarus nor I fell into the sea; we lay within the sun's warmth, becoming 

Beings of heat and light and dreams. 

And here we stay for all eternity. 

So, young ones, let this be a lesson to you. 

Fly-- fly as high as you can, 

Dream as much as you can, 

And become creatures of warmth, glory, and love. 

Oppenheimer: A Film for The History Books

Hello everyone ✨ Today, I woke up and  decided to talk about one of my favourite films, Christopher Nolan's Oppenheimer (2023, starring Cillian Murphy, Robert Downey Jr., Emily Blunt, and Matt Damon). If y'all have been following this year's Oscars, they seemed underwhelming to me compared to last season, when both Cillian and RDJ bagged (very well-deserved) awards. 

Let me preface this by saying I'm not very fond of scientific films; Oppenheimer is the exception. I never knew much about Dr. J. Robert Oppenheimer, father of the atom bomb, having only heard about him somewhat in history class. Watching Oppenheimer, however, was an awe-inspiring experience in and of itself, because this wasn't just some distant figure from the past, this was the story of a man's history-altering actions being brought to life. 

The film is based on a biography called "American Prometheus;" just like Prometheus, Oppenheimer was a brilliant man with knowledge too great for his own good. Just like Prometheus, his actions had devastating consequences. 

The film is beautifully made, using monochrome and varied colour alternately and to great effect. It flashes back and forth in time, exploring the events leading up to the creation of the atom bomb, the end of WW2, and Oppenheimer being investigated by the Atomic Energy Commission (AEC) in 1954. 

I've seen plenty of Nolan's work and I truly think this is his best one yet. It feels very complete, very balanced; there is neither vilification nor glorification of our protagonist. Even at the end, Nolan passes no personal judgement on Oppenheimer's actions. He leaves it to the audience to interpret the story. After I watched it in the theatre, I was left a little shaken by the sheer magnitude of it all. Also, without spoiling too much, this film really drives home the point "with great power comes great responsibility." 

The visuals in Oppenheimer are absolutely stunning. If y'all haven't seen it yet, please do, if only to stare at the terrifying beauty of it all. The dialogues are quite well-written and there's a lot of foreshadowing; even more fascinating on a rewatch. That brings me to the performances. 

This is one of those films with a 10/10 main cast. Cillian, who I'd never seen in a big role before, steps into Oppenheimer's shoes so seamlessly that I forgot he was an actor. He's absolutely incredible; he's understated and yet very charismatic, subtle and yet very impactful. He holds the film together very well. I was very impressed!

Robert Downey Jr., as Oppenheimer's foil, Admiral Lewis Strauss (one of the founders and chairman of the Atomic Energy Commission) is just as brilliant; he is menacing, malicious, and petty all at once (I've seen him in plenty of films and really liked him in all of them, but this one might just be my favourite performance). Emily Blunt, who I also like wherever I've seen her (which, admittedly, isn't a lot), does a very good job at playing Oppenheimer's wife, Kitty, who staunchly stands by him and pushes him to broaden his horizons. 

That brings me to Matt Damon, my favourite actor of all time! ✨✨ He's fantastic as the snappy and direct General Leslie Groves, director of the Manhattan Project. Matt is always very magnetic and it shines through here as well; he adds nuance and dimension to his character (even more noticeable the second time), and I just wish he had a little more screentime (he is extremely memorable in spite of the limited part). The supporting cast is pretty solid too (watch out for Kenneth Branagh's cameo!) 

As y'all can see from all my gushing, I loved Oppenheimer. It really impacted the way I view and analyse films. It's definitely going down in history books as one of the most technically brilliant films ever made. :) 

If you've watched it, please let me know what you think of the film and my analysis!! 

 

The Great Flood

 'This is the way the world ends 

Not with a bang but with a whimper.'

I stood at the top of the hill and gazed, eyes wide open, 

As water roared and gushed all around me. 

Flimsy houses, tiny paper people--

All of them gone in a split second. 

Now the water was black, now it was red, now it was gold. 

Lightning danced over the surface of the water, frighteningly beautiful. 

It's easy to think destruction is beautiful

When you aren't a part of it. 

Water gives life, but it also takes life. 

It is the preserver as well as the destroyer. 

As I looked on, all of humanity's wrongdoings flashed before my eyes: 

Lying, cheating, backstabbing, killing-- 

And more, which I won't reiterate. 

Humans have a way of bringing about their end, don't they? 

It's almost a skill, I'd say. 

At the end of every yuga, the great flood is bound to come. 

I have no one left whom I hold dear. 

Yes, I've done things I'm not proud of.

But right now, I am simply observing. 

The next generation will need this, if they survive. 

Is that a golden fish I spy? Is that a boat tied to its horn? 

One's eyes can play tricks when one is close to the end. 

Now the water's drawing closer. 

I feel its screams in my ears, in my heart. 

My parchment floats into the air. 

Am I ready? The water seems to be asking. 

Yes, yes, I think, although my blood has turned to ice

And my face is wet. 

No matter. Even if we are destroyed, we will be created again. 

The water embraces me.

Bed of Thorns

 Hello everyone, here's my newest poem 💖💖... In class yesterday, I studied Derek Walcott's poem, 'A Far Cry from Africa': a diasporic account of the British colonial forces' atrocities in the continent of Africa. Inspired by this, my teacher asked us to write a small poem with themes of displacement and identity crisis, so I wrote the following poem. Hope you like it! 

I  stand on the thinly drawn border, 

Neither here nor there: nowhere, yet everywhere. 

Their gazes burn through me, the whispered insults slice through my defenses. 

I walk to the place I call home, and yet feel homeless. 

My tongue sounds strange to them, 

So I mutter and fumble and learn *their* strange tongue instead. 

Sometimes, my own people look at me 

As if I am an alien. 

Where do we go-- we, who are left adrift?

Our homes exist only in rose-coloured dreams. 

For us, reality is a bed of thorns. 

And so, we endure.

The Phoenix

 She was perched on a large silver branch,

A gigantic golden bird with enormous wings;

Her eyes were jade green like a tiger's, 

On her breast there was a brilliant white patch, 

And on her imperial head, a blue crest bobbed proudly. 

Her wings glinted red-gold and orange in the streaming sunlight. 

She was a marvel to look at; as pretty as a peacock, 

And probably just as proud-- her head was cocked imperiously as she surveyed her surroundings. 

She was perched there a long, long time;

Aeons, probably, silently watching 

As the world around her grew from infancy to adulthood. 

She grew, too, birthing a host of beautiful and divine children--

Tiny golden chicks with honeyed voices and blueish-green eyes. 

It was a dazzling sight. 

Alas, such beauty and tranquility is bound to attract the evil eye:

One cruel day, the sky darkened grimly 

As birds of prey, cawing and shrieking, 

Descended onto mama bird and her brood. 

She fought valiantly; her talons and beak claimed many lives, while her eyes shot holy fire. 

But even she could not hold out forever. 

Her wounds were many, but she did not give up. 

Up in flames she went, taking her brood with her; 

The fire also destroyed her enemies, and their raucous cries were mixed with her soft, melodic keening. 

Their destinies mingle here:

Legend has it that every time the golden bird is reborn, 

She is attacked by avaricious creatures, 

Demons straight from the pits of Hell:

But she is able to fend them off in a whirl of fire, 

Sleeping till it is time to rise again. 

We, her children, are reborn also, 

Protecting her as she protects us. 

This is her song. This is our song. 

This is our tribute to our valiant Mother;

Come, sing with us as she draws us all

 Under her flaming golden wings. 

The Fire Giver's Song

 Heya folksss, here's another poem! I hope you like it!! 

Part 1: Fire 

They sprang up from the clay I'd moulded,

Their hair flowing, their clothes brightly coloured. 

You are mortals, I told them. You will be called 'man.' 

(At this time, there were no women). 

Go, my children, and inhabit the earth.

That is the command of The Great and Almighty Father, Zeus. 

I bestowed the gift of speech, and wisdom, and knowledge on these newly formed humans;

My labour of love, formed by my clay and Zeus' seed. 

When Zeus saw them populating the earth,

He was well pleased: 

'Only,' quoth he, 'do not give them fire;

They will grow arrogant, and will seek to dethrone me.

You know what I will do if you disobey.' 

His eyes flashed; the clouds groaned. 

'Your wish is my command, master,' I said quietly. 

Immortals are not supposed to love. 

Well, gods aren't supposed to. 

I was immortal, but no longer a god, 

And so I was free to love:

I loved these humans, my creation. Mine!

And so, in a moment of weakness, 

I gave the humans the gift of fire:

Shining bright with Apollo's light, 

Crafted finely in Hephaestus' forge. 

I carried the fire to them myself,

And taught them how to use it. 

For a while, everything went smoothly. 

But it was foolish of me to consider myself safe:

This was the folly of mortals, 

And I paid for it dearly. 

Part 2: The Great Eagle 

When Zeus, the All-Seeing, the All-Powerful, 

Found out what I'd done, his wrath knew no bounds. 

I knew he wasn't a gentle person,

But for old times' sake, I expected a lesser punishment. 

What laughable folly that was!

Zeus had me chained to a cliff on Mount Caucasus,

And every afternoon, a ferocious eagle would come to feast on my liver. 

Ah, immortal that I am, this liver of mine

Grew again each night. 

Have you ever wondered what it's like 

When Immortals bleed? 

Our blood is gold, not red; 

We feel pain, too, and it hits us even worse than mortals-- 

For we cannot even escape into blessed Death. 

I was forced to endure an eternity of pain, 

Just because I dared to love mortals. 

My shrieks rang around Caucasus, 

And Zeus, sipping purple ambrosia on his golden throne, 

Smiled grimly. 

I was chained there for aeons.

I had plenty of time to think;

In time, the mortals I loved 

Grew stupid and thoughtless and evil, 

And began misusing the gifts I'd bestowed on them. 

This hurt me more than the eagle;

But I did not stop loving them. 

I still do. 

Part 3: The Liberation 

Sometimes, the gods tire of their cruel games. 

I still do not know what made Zeus change his mind, 

But he sent his hulking son, 

The demigod Heracles, to free me from my torment:

I had not thought it possible, but this boy 

Shot the great eagle dead with just one 

silver-tipped arrow. 

He took me to see Zeus, and Zeus 

Clasped my hand and declared me pardoned;

But I saw the thunder in his eyes, and understood the unspoken implications. 

Stay in your place, Titan. 

By this time, I was tired. 

Exhausted, really, after everything I'd gone through. 

Not wishing to participate in the gods' cruel power plays anymore, 

I quietly retired to a more obscure part of history:

But I do have one consolation. 

Prometheus, fire-giver, will always be remembered

For the knowledge I bestowed on humans. 

And now, I bid thee goodbye.