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.