Frankenstein

An idea, a feeling became clear to me. The hunter did not hate the wolf. The wolf did not hate the sheep. But violence felt inevitable between them. Perhaps, I thought, this was the way of the world. It would hunt you and kill you just for being who you are. I felt compelled to begin the new year with a film, and I, naturally, concluded that Guillermo del Toro’s adaptation of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein was the very motion picture that had to be watched. Can one imagine a more fitting commencement to the year than witnessing man play God and attempt to create life eternal? When I woke the next morning, scarcely a few hours later, an excruciating blizzard had descended.