How Lukewarm Is Guillermo del Toro?

 How Lukewarm Is Guillermo del Toro?

By Dr. Jossalberto Briceno Saenz

"Timor mortis conturbat me" – The fear of death disturbs me.

I believe fear should always have a place in our lives.

After the release of Mimic in 1997, Guillermo del Toro was compelled to leave Mexico due to the dangers plaguing the country. Since then, he has openly criticized Mexico’s executive, legislative, and judicial branches of government. However, as clear as he has been about his fears of living in Mexico and his harsh critiques of the country, he has not refrained from returning—for family visits, masterclasses in Guadalajara, and more.

This contradiction reminds me of the Bible, a text also filled with paradoxes, as is Guillermo del Toro himself.

Personally, I harbor so much fear of returning to Mexico that I would not even visit my own mother’s grave. I say this without hyperbole—verbum scouti—word of a scout. So, what is it that allows Guillermo to defy his fears and return to a place he has so openly condemned?

On one point, I completely agree with del Toro: Mexico’s poor security situation. This insecurity resulted in his father’s kidnapping in Guadalajara, Jalisco, in 1998—a horrifying ordeal that lasted 72 days. At the time, I knew nothing of Guillermo del Toro’s life or his films, yet I found myself similarly critical of Mexico’s failing security system. Unlike him, however, I lacked fame and financial resources, yet I, too, felt unsafe in Mexico.

As a university student, I proposed requiring higher education for all security personnel in Mexico, meaning that only individuals with college degrees could serve as police officers or hold administrative positions in police departments. My vision was to transform a barbaric Mexico into a safer one, with education as the cornerstone of change. This effort led me to engage with universities throughout Guanajuato to raise awareness, but it also earned me the ire of local police—a reality that fills me with terror to this day.

A significant body of literature exists on Guillermo del Toro, much of it centered on his personal notebooks, filled with sketches and ideas for his films. While visually stunning, these works often feel more like children’s books—rich in illustrations but lacking in depth and theory. If I were to recommend reading, I’d suggest “Del Toro by Del Toro” by Antonio Trashorras, one of his collaborators, and “His Life, His Cinema, His Monsters” by Leonardo García Tsao, del Toro’s close friend. However, to truly understand the contradictions inherent in del Toro’s character, I’d advise reading both simultaneously.

Del Toro’s words and actions are riddled with inconsistencies. Consider his morbid tales of walking through morgues filled with bloodied fetuses, or his descriptions of Pan’s Labyrinth and the online backlash he faced in Spain. Spaniards, by his account, united on forums to disparage him and root for his film’s failure—a campaign that undeniably embodied bullying, racism, and discrimination. Yet del Toro refrained from criticizing these actions, even offering excuses for their behavior in his book. The same leniency is absent in his critiques of Mexico.

So why does del Toro continue to return to Mexico despite his professed fears? The answer, in my opinion, lies in financial benefit. This undermines the weight of his words about Mexico’s flaws, including its poor security and mismanagement.

Returning to the Bible, Revelation 3:15-16 states: “I know your works, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were cold or hot. So then, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will vomit you out of my mouth.” To me, del Toro’s behavior and rhetoric are lukewarm, and that undermines his credibility. One is far more genuine as either hot or cold, but not as tepid.

The truth is, the books about del Toro raise more questions than they answer. Written by friends, they avoid direct responses or offer ones that are neither believable nor reliable. In the end, they, too, are lukewarm.

What do you think? When you love something, you love it despite its flaws—that’s what we call blind love. I believe fear is similar; when you truly fear something, you fear it entirely. If not, you’re not being honest with yourself.

Guillermo del Toro, why not grant me an interview? I have 18 questions written in my notebook, but I’d be satisfied if you answered just five.

THE GIFTS OF CHRISTMAS

 

THE GIFTS OF CHRISTMAS
By Dr. Jossalberto Briceno Saenz

I believe Christmas should last forever.

How many Christmases do you truly remember? What is the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to you during Christmas? After reflecting on these questions, one inevitably begins to recall those memorable gifts—both good and bad—received in holiday gift exchanges.

It feels like it was just yesterday when my siblings and I would rush to the Christmas tree to grab our presents. We’d weigh them in our hands, shake them, and try to guess what treasures lay inside.

But let us move beyond material gifts and focus on the joy and happiness that should envelop this season. And here comes the deeper question: beyond presents, what brings you true joy and happiness? If you asked Mariah Carey, she’d probably say, "All I Want for Christmas Is You." Why not? I love that word "you" in English—it can be interpreted as singular or plural, making her song both universal and deeply personal. It’s a phrase that, in my opinion, generates both positive and critical discourse in equal measure.

Let me talk about gifts—both material and immaterial—in the context of education. I recall my school days in Mexico when we were accustomed to carrying backpacks so heavy they often outweighed the children themselves. Sometimes, these bags were physically larger than the student carrying them. This led me to wonder: is knowledge and education truly measured by the weight or volume of books?

In 2003, I reflected on this and developed a proposal to reduce the physical burden on students without compromising their access to knowledge. I presented this plan to the government of Guanajuato, to then-President Vicente Fox, and to Mexico’s Secretariat of Public Education (SEP). My program called for the standardization of textbook sizes across government-issued and private publishers, aligning them with three-ring binders. The books would feature detachable pages and be pre-divided into weekly study sections.

In essence, my goal was to minimize the physical load while maximizing the possibility for students to carry a personal book of their own choosing to school.

I don’t know the current state of education in Mexico, as I’ve been away for 23 years. But at that time, my proposal was my gift to every child—a way to transform the educational system for the better. My gift wasn’t about adding more; it was about taking away. As I saw it then (and still believe today), the physical weight of books doesn’t represent acquired knowledge or academic achievement. However, implementing this change required cooperation and support from the government, which, unfortunately, I did not receive.

My program was so detailed that it even outlined specific standards for both public and private schools. Sadly, it was rejected by Vicente Fox and the SEP. The resistance I encountered became so overwhelming that I had no choice but to leave Mexico altogether.

Now, as Christmas approaches, I find myself reflecting—remembering some things and forgetting others, not by choice but for the sake of sanity. For me, Christmas is not about red, green, and white clothes, nativity scenes, or presents whose size and weight seem to dictate their value. Instead, it’s about a feeling of peace, joy, and emotional abundance—something far greater than anything measured in grams.

I wish all of you a Merry Christmas. May you find happiness in the company of people you love and who love you in return—more than boxes and decorative paper ever could.

And if you’re one of those who doesn’t share my perspective and prefers heavier gifts, well, I hope someone gives you a complete set of ankle and wrist weights this Christmas. That way, you can put them to good use after all the holiday feasting and New Year celebrations.

THE MEANING OF CHRISTMAS

 THE MEANING OF CHRISTMAS

By Jossalberto Briceno Saenz

If you were to ask me which Christmas I prefer—the one in Mexico or the one in China—I couldn’t give you an answer so easily. To explain, I must first provide some context.

As the world prepares to celebrate Christmas once again, I find myself reminiscing about my time studying in China and my earlier years in Mexico. During my tenure at Fudan University in Shanghai, I had the unique experience of playing Santa Claus every year. The school would provide me with a Santa suit, and I would deliver gifts to faculty members and other attendees at the university’s Christmas party. These parties were vibrant, with students performing dances, plays, or singing traditional songs from various countries. The feast was just as diverse, featuring everything from traditional Chinese dumplings to Japanese, Korean, Thai, and other international dishes.

One day as Santa Claus, however, was not enough for me. I would request to keep the suit longer, and for several days each year, you could see me walking around Shanghai dressed as Santa. There I was, a Mexican Santa Claus amidst statues of Mao Zedong, studying in university libraries, strolling along the Bund (Waitan) by the Huangpu River, and wandering through places like the Yu Garden, the underground markets beneath the Oriental Pearl TV Tower, and finally ending my walks on Nanjing Lu. Interestingly, "lu" means "street" in Chinese, yet many still redundantly call it "Nanjinglu Street."

On the other side of the Pacific, we find Mexico—specifically the Mexico of 2001. I mention this time period because I am not sure if the Mexico I once knew remains the same, but I’ll let you decide by the end of this article. Back then, I attended my communication sciences classes at La Salle Benavente University in Celaya, Guanajuato. Truth be told, I often dreaded these classes. Many of my classmates smoked, and during the cold winter months, they would shut the windows and doors, filling the room with suffocating smoke.

Despite my obvious discomfort, no one ever paused to consider that we all shared the same air. Even the few non-smoking students said nothing. It seemed that no one reflected on the fact that we all had the same right to breathe clean air.

To make matters worse, our program director, who occasionally taught classes himself, would smoke during his lectures. He would even place his pack of cigarettes on my desk and say, "You’re the only one missing. Come on, just take one and smoke—it’s easier this way."

Enduring such callous behavior made me question the values of these individuals. Were these the future representatives of Mexico in media, international relations, and politics? Would they someday hold important positions in government? If so, what would happen to the ethical standards of our society?

In my view, no matter the job you hold, you must never lose the humanity that allows you to be empathetic toward those who are neither family nor close friends. To me, that is the true meaning of Christmas. From Alf’s Special Christmas to A Charlie Brown Christmas, Scrooged, Miracle on 34th Street, and even Home Alone 2: Lost in New York, the lesson is clear: Christmas is about caring for and understanding people beyond your usual circle. Unfortunately, in Mexico, those messages often aren’t enough.

Today, we see university students and professionals, like those I described earlier, who lack the ability to win or lose gracefully. They gossip, undermine others, and engage in destructive behaviors. This points to a broader failure in ethical and moral education—something that can no longer be remedied by a handful of holiday movies. What Mexico truly needs are robust ethics and civics classes integrated into the education system, which were tragically removed in 2000 by former President Vicente Fox.

Fox’s decision to eliminate these classes from school curricula was a disservice to the nation, leaving generations without a formal foundation in morality or civic responsibility.

So, after hearing all this, I ask you: Which Christmas do you prefer—the one in China or the one in Mexico?