#comparative analysis

In Resident Evil: Requiem, about halfway through an optional section of Leon’s campaign in Raccoon City, the strangest thing happens.

To get to BSAA container 04, Leon has to veer off the main path and fight through the dilapidated subway systems underneath the city. The walk to the container is identical to things we’ve seen before — hallways chock full of idle infected, and zombies that crawl out from open areas. But as we finish up, and make our way back to the main camp, this pattern changes.

The music from outside swells, and fades to nothing. Inside, other than Leon’s footsteps and the sound of his laboured breathing, we’re met with silence. And then, once he reaches the turnstile, we hear a static switch — a signal that Leon’s earpiece is on — but the first voice we hear isn’t his.

The first voice we hear is Sherry’s.

Hey Leon, do you still think about what happened there? […] That night, I was just a kid. Scared and confused… I imagine Grace must feel the same right now.

Usually, within these eerie moments of cleared out areas in Resident Evil titles, something happens. We have been primed for that exact outcome — a payoff to the tension, something that validates our reason to be on alert. Most often, the stillness we are subject to is directly followed by a jump scare.

But in this specific moment, that never comes. It’s a short stretch, but once Sherry’s line is delivered, there’s no interruption. No enemies, no music — just more quiet, and the sound of Leon pushing forward. You’re forced to sit with what she said to him for far longer than expected.

It almost felt intentional, like the developers wanted that moment to exist outside of the main story’s progression — still, and untouched by chaos. Something you were meant to remember.

And on my subsequent playthroughs of Requiem, I did.

Strap in. This is about to get crazy.

Deku became his own kind of hero instead of simply an emulation of All Might. People expected the latter, but that path would've destroyed him both mentally AND physically, as demonstrated by the Dark Hero arc.

So instead, he became a DIFFERENT kind of "Symbol of Peace" that focuses more on intangible qualities, like the soul and deeply hidden emotions. In the moments where being a hero wasn't for a class, where he could choose the best way to act, he chose to be a hero for the minority – people who were targeted, hidden from view or fell from grace. No one told him to save those people - in fact on many occasions he was told NOT to. This in turn inspired the rest of Hero society, because they'd never seen a hero like that.

The peace that All Might brought to Hero society was only temporary. He saved their bodies from physical injury, the external component that everyone could see. That obviously touched their hearts, but only for one life.

But the peace that Deku brought to the individuals that Hero society cast aside was eternal. He saved their souls by answering the cries that no one else seemed to hear. By noticing their internalised pain / suffering and freeing them from it, thereby changing their worldviews.

He may have been fighting for the entire world during the Final War, but his eyes and effort were all towards freeing Tenko from the prison that was both AFO's clutches and Tomura's modified body. In my view, Tenko is a representation of Tomura's soul / essence, his true, pure self, the child that he was born as. I think this is why AFO couldn't manage to get rid of him to merge completely with Tomura.

I bet Tenko had been screaming out for help long before Deku noticed him. No one specific - just 'someone' was enough. But after the Paranormal Liberation War, he stopped calling out generically, because he now knew and had hope for who that 'someone' was gonna be – Deku.

Some people, like Shoto, Kota, Gentle Criminal, Lady Nagant and Aoyama had no idea of who was gonna save them or even that they were gonna be saved at all until the very moment that Deku saved them. Thus, their cries remained internalised and generic - "Someone, anyone, help me! Please show me that this world isn't as bleak and cruel and hopeless as I've seen it."

Others, like Eri and Tenko, found out before they were saved that Deku was gonna be the one to save them. His kindness helped them realise that they wanted to be saved, that they were worth saving. Deku was the saviour that neither of them had imagined to even exist within the cruel world they were trapped in. They rebelled their oppressors by crying out to him (Eri didn't know his name till after she was saved but she knew who she was waiting for), by even THINKING about him, whether it was in front of people or not, until he eventually answered.

All Might accepted the fact that sometimes there'd be people that even he couldn't reach, but Deku didn't. That's why he was able to reach all those who All Might couldn't - the ones that Hero society turned a blind eye to or deemed to be "beyond saving."

Also, queer readings and Dean's suppression of his personal style and desires aside...

Thinking about how The Lost Boys is also a story about brothers, and responsibility to the home vs. personal freedom, and the capability for both of those to be destructive. Specifically, a story where the older brother, who loves his family and is "the man of the house" after their dad bails, is also on the cusp of adulthood and trying to find a place for himself outside of looking out for his loving, innocent mother and the little brother that's his best friend. An older brother who is trying to connect with people his own age, who falls in with a crowd of beautiful monsters that are Seductive and Free and Exciting and Queer and Unapologetically Themselves and Dangerous.

And how it's the little brother — goofy, sweet, nerdy, smart, needs-to-be-looked-after Sam — whose love, loyalty, and persistence in trying to find a way to help his big brother... is what saves his humanity and his life.

Okay, so, I have a lot of feelings about this movie, and it literally turned into me pulling out one of my old literary theory textbooks from my sophomore year in college because I wanted to discuss the film based on one of the theories I remembered from my time with the dinosaurs.

(The basic premise of what I'm actually researching now, for serious, in my spare time, is the idea of Frankenstein as a fairy tale/ piece of modern folklore, that has been adapted to fit the advancements in science, the practice of religion, and the politics of the time in which that particular Frankenstein exist - while also being informed by the past Frankenstein's in existence. For the sake of length, I chose to only put Del Toro's Frankenstein in conversation with films, specifically those starting with the 1931 adaptation, despite there being adaptations for the stage in Shelley's life time. I think ... I can't remember if it's a full opera or operetta ... but I think there's actually some variation of an opera of Frankenstein somewhere from approximately the time of Mary Shelley.

I know for sure she was alive to see at least one of the many stage adaptations. I just can't recall which one. But, all of that to say, Frankenstein has a boat load of adaptations. And, each adaptation, creates, almost a game of telephone + giving more material for the next adapter to work with and/ or change. But, again, for the sake of argument, I chose to only focus on those productions after 1931.)

Anyway, with the sort of basic premise of what I'm writing about out of the way, I wanted to talk about the personal side of this passion project because, honestly, I haven't done any serious film/ literary research (as in like with actual citations/ socio-psyco-political commentary) in almost 10+ years.

So, why now?

In many ways, people are saying that this movie is basically Del Toro rehashing a lot of his plots by making the visual monster "innocent" and the physically appealing creator "bad."

However, outside of Del Toro's films, I honestly can't say, even in 2025, I see that much?

So, of course we're going to notice when he does it because he's the only person doing it?

Outside of people with these conditions/ disorders:

I don't see many people complaining about the "scary monster" - usually a character with a craniofacial difference - only being evil when that occurs, constantly, in films.

I don't see people complaining about the use of characters with neurological differences being, constantly, portrayed as evil.

I've only recently started to see a lot of active pushback against elderly and confused women being used as horror devices and, even then, I've seen a lot of people jump in to defend the trope.

Yet, when Del Toro chooses to consistently push up against a trope that we see in film, we notice. Therefore, we think he's making the same film.

And, for folks who have been waiting for more films like this with ever so slight variations in plot?

We really *don't care* if he is making a mostly similar movie with slightly different plots and characters.

We've been waiting to see ourselves/ characters that represent us for a long time.

We've been waiting to see that done with care and compassion because, for so long, we've only got to see ourselves as without compassion, as beyond redemption, as disproportionately violent to what is being done to us, and as the "villain" of the narrative.

Until other people in the film industry start to make films similar to Del Toro's, it's really hard for him to converse with anyone but himself. He's making these films almost in a genre of his own that cannot expand until someone goes into this place with him and ALSO starts to flip the narrative that we've seen in the film industry for almost the last century of film!

Del Toro's monsters BEING INNOCENT is a political statement as well.

For so long, neurodiverse people, people with visible [especially facial] disabilities, and people who look/ think "differently" from those in a typical society are treated with malice.

You can look no further than the incredibly derogatory statements made in almost every press briefing surrounding autism by those in power, for now, in the US as well as what those same people have ordered and allowed to happen to immigrants, in addition to US citizens, with the assistance of ICE.

Del Toro's recent body of work isn't being made in a vacuum.

It's in direct response to the people who look at monsters and see themselves.

I was both shocked and not to find how many neurodivergent trans masculine people have claimed Henry Jekyll as one of our own.

The Phantom of the Opera is a character that has given me language to describe the feeling of autistic isolation since I was seven years old. (This being LONG before I was diagnosed as an adult.)

Monsters and Villains speak to people across the disability community, in part, because they are isolated.

Yet, I think, and I've heard from others, that there is also a longing to not be strictly "evil." There is a longing to portray those same characters from a place of being "good" and/or from a place of struggling with a different kind of complexity than just villainy.

For many of us, the struggle is how to remain good and kind in a world that seems to want to harm us. How to we continue in love when everyone despises us?

And, I think Frankenstein (2025) brilliantly answers that question: the kindness needs to be shown.

I read the novel Frankenstein, the first time, when I was 12.

I read it on my grandfather's porch.

My grandfather was a neuroscientist and researcher at a college near where I grew up. And, though "retired," was still an adjunct professor until just before(?) I graduated college. As I was reading, he explained how and why the "science" of the fiction both could and couldn't work based on the functions of neurons and synapses in the brain.

Twelve year old me was far more interested in finding a way to pull the monster out of the book so I might have someone to share my pb&j with at the lunch table.

Yet, I was still fascinated by the lesson nonetheless, if only because, it made the story **feel** real.

As I brought the most difficult words and concepts to my grandfather, he explained them with patience. He never turned me away.

And, despite being dead for two years now, I felt a part of him in the old blind patriarch that Del Toro so lovelying crafted.

The way The Creature gently lays his head on the old man's chest when he first presents himself to him, and he slowly curls inside the man's side, is a gesture, with which, I was very familiar. I had done that many times as a child to my own "patriarch" as he taught me the secrets of the world with patience, responded to my curiosity, and lovingly taught me about the secrets of creation.

When my grandfather died, I was one of a few to sit with him. I didn't take a solo shift because someone needed to tend to my grandmother. (That was my job.) However, I did sing for him. Several times.

And, he would reach for me, in the same way the man reached for the Creature.

In Del Toro's film, it was so clear to me that The Creature didn't belong to Victor. Victor wasn't his father, The Old Man was.

The Old Man who taught The Creature how to be kind, despite a harsh world.

The Old Man who taught The Creature how to forgive, even when the world didn't deserve it.

The Old Man who taught The Creature how to sit in complex thought, so that when confusing things were overwhelming, there was hope to parse through things beyond anger.

In the same way, my grandfather was so much more my father than my own. My grandfather who was always patient in his teaching, where my father often ignored my questions completely.

Shelley's Creature never gets to speak extensively with the patriarch of the house. He reaches to help a drowning child and is promptly shot.

Every bit of goodness in her Creature is beaten out of him.

However, Del Toro's Creature, through The Old Man, but also Elizabeth Harlander, who I'll get to in a minute, is taught how to be kind in ways Shelley's Creature is not. There is a literal IN TEXT reason for him to be the way he is.

Additionally, though Victor's backstory may feel a little rushed, I think that is intentional.

Victor wants people to know just enough of his backstory to feel bad for him but not so much as to feel bad for anyone else.

Victor's Hamartia (tragic/ fatal flaw) is his need for complete and total control, combined with his lack of ability to take reasonable responsibility for the things that he does wrong.

This, likely, comes from the trauma of the abuse he faced at the hands of his father because he had to be perfect or he would be beaten. Additionally, his mother, based on the brief moment we see of her literally collapsing on her son in tears, we can infer that she likely leaned on him heavily for emotional support after arguments with his father.

So, no matter how much he loved his mother, she kinda cooked Victor's ability to be anything other than co-dependent.

Finally, in being separated from his younger brother after the death of their father, Victor no longer has any hopes for ties to his mother or his father. He really doesn't have any connection to "himself." He's sort of just floating in this limbo with simply the promise that he's going to go even farther than his father and "beat death" as the only constant he has.

This is *so* different from Victor's relationship with his father in the novel.

This is NOT the Dad that comes to see his son in prison after hearing that his son is ill and having convulsions upon being accused of murdering his best friend.

But, that's because this is a different story.

Shelley's story is, in the end, mostly about Victor. The Creature comes to Victor and tells a part of his tale. He's a significant foil to Victor. But, in the end, her story is about Victor.

Del Toro's movie is about The Creature.

He has inverted the story.

Victor, in Del Toro's movie, is nuanced in the way that Shelley's Creature is nuanced.

That is to say, he has moments, in which, we can understand why he is the way he is. We understand why he does what he does. We can even justify his actions, to a point, but he's the monster.

Victor murders. He lacks empathy. He lacks understanding. He lacks control over his rage - in a similar way to The Creature of Shelley's novel. (I'll explain this more throughout.)

However, Del Toro gives the gentle hand of complexity to The Creature.

Yet, this is not without narrative reason.

Remember when I talked about that codependency thing?

That's why it's important to note that Mia Goth plays Elizabeth and Victor's mother.

However, because of the need for control and perfectionism that Victor's father instilled in him, Victor has a completely one track mind. He cannot deviate from a thought once it has taken root.

The scene where Victor is being taught about the human body and can't remember the fact doesn't just set up the abuse he will eventually inflict on The Creature. It doesn't just set up the cycle of abuse The Creature will in the end learn to break. It also sets up the kind of thought patterns it instils in Victor's (then very plastic) mind.

The more we are taught to think rigidly and quickly without ever questioning the answers we come to?

The more we build a brain that will always think that way.

What my grandfather taught me about about the brain is, basically, that the thought processes that we use get stronger and the ones that we don't die off. This is true, generally, over time. However, it's especially true the younger you are.

(5-Puberty is basically when the brain "grows" and "prunes" the most neural pathways/ neurons. After that, it's about making the process of thought faster and creating stronger neural pathways. Wiki links to read more about "Synaptic Pruning" and "Neural Pathways," if you like. I'm a Literature dude - I'm not quite as expert a summarizer of science as he was.)

The way Victor treats the dying with such a matter of fact way? From Harlander to the hanged men to the mangled bodies?

That comes **directly** from the cold language his father used to describe the death of Victor's own mother. There was no acknowledgement of Victor's feelings. There was no acknowledgement of the blood on Victor's face. There was no acknowledgement of the nightmares and terrors that plagued him.

Therefore, when Victor looks into the mouth of one of the men about to hang and sees the signs of disease that surely will kill him?

There's no problem saying so.

It's what his father would have said.

When Victor is looking for parts of bodies for his perfect human?

There's no problem critiquing exactly what's wrong with each body.

His father had no problem telling Victor exactly how he would have caused each of his patient's deaths when Victor was a child.

When, Harlander's physical body is too "corrupt" for the experiment?

Victor has been primed to simply tell him as much.

It's what his father would have done.

It's what his father said about Victor's mother.

Therefore, Victor's rigidity in thought, his need for perfection, and, thus, his need for control is a survival response.

We almost have to pity Victor. The formation of his brain is the reason he ended up the way he did.

Again, this is one of the inversions of Victor and The Creature between Del Toro and Shelley's novel.

In the novel, we pity The Creature because of what's done to him. We pity Victor, in the novel, because he because he just keeps getting beat to shit.

However, moving on to the relationship with Victor and Elizabeth.

When Victor meets Elizabeth, he's immediately fascinated by her, and he wants her.

Why?

Doesn't matter exactly.

(Though, likely, it's in part because of his codependency with his mother as well as because no one else has ever challenged him.)

What is important is that he has to have her because it's what he wants, and Victor, above everything, needs to be in absolute control.

Even before Victor rejects Harlander's plea to save his life, we see it in the way Victor strikes the deal to do the resurrection project with Harlander.

Victor only gives in once he realizes that he can get everything he wants, in exactly the way he wants it. It doesn't really matter what weird mystery thing Harlander might eventually ask for. Harlander is going to give Victor complete control.

What more could Victor ever ask for?

The only time Victor relinquishes control of the project, to his brother, is when Victor gives William **EXACT NOTES** on what Victor wants. Victor only does this to pursue something he wants more ... Elizabeth.

Yet, all Elizabeth really wants is freedom.

She's smart enough to know Victor would never give her that.

It's why she both loves and hates him.

He engages her and understands her and, in a way, that's a type of freedom. However, Elizabeth also knows that he's just a different kind of controlling.

Florence Pugh has a beautiful line in Little Women (2019) that I think applies beautifully to how Elizabeth Harlander sees her situation. It also just generally summarizes how women of the time were treated.

Elizabeth Harlander, from my viewing of the film, is an incredible judge of character. She chooses the marriage that will provide her the ability to pursue her interests safely. William will never control her.

For what William may not give her in stimulating conversation, he gives her in protection.

William's actor does so much, in general, with his physicality. He's hesitant to follow Harlander when Victor and Elizabeth are talking politics. Yet, out of obligation, he does so anyway. His tone is questioning when he's given the list of things to get for Victor, without ever once seeming overly suspicious. He's impossibly gentle with Elizabeth whenever we see them together. His hand is almost hovering over her, and coming to rest on her in comfort, only when she leads/ seems to ask for it. Yet, they never speak at depth.

Victor is, especially near the end of their relationship, increasingly forceful with Elizabeth. Despite his words to the contrary, leading Elizabeth to, finally, lash out at him. This despite the genuine fun and good conversation they seem to share early on.

However, the relationship Elizabeth shares with The Creature?

That is something **entirely** unique.

From the moment Elizabeth hears The Creature, she's drawn to his cries of distress, boredom, and sadness.

Then, when she sees he's injured?

She immediately comes to his defense. It's Elizabeth who is the first to call The Creature "he" instead of "it."

Despite Victor's insistence that The Creature is dangerous, Elizabeth goes and **PLAYS** with him.

Therefore, before The Old Man, there is Elizabeth.

And, much as I see people shipping The Creature and Elizabeth and, if that's your thing, you do you, but, to me, I will always see a worried mother in Elizabeth's face.

In my understanding, it's Victor who looks at Elizabeth and the Creature and becomes jealous of the love they share. He sees the two of them as romantic when Elizabeth is simply teaching a child, her new child, how to share, how to speak, and how to love.

Victor doesn't know how to take care of The Creature. He quickly becomes exasperated in his isolation of trying to teach him.

Instead of what little he might have learned from the love his mother showed him, he quickly turns to the anger his father taught him because he's exhausted.

I have a child, Squish is the name I have chosen to use for their and my privacy when I blog, however, I can tell you that there are several moments in The Creature's first days of life that are relatable.

The way The Creature mimics faces?

Yup.

Though, generally, it's best practice to make them yourself and not to have them mirror cold creepy Gothic statues.

However, mine did once tried to befriend and comfort a severed head at Spirit Halloween.

Yet, now, Squish is afraid of even inflatables? Therefore, I made a painting for our yard this year instead so they didn't have to see the "scary blow ups."

No idea what I'm doing for the Christmas/ the winter holidays though ...

Anyway ...

All that to say, facial mimicking is a huge part of childhood development.

Also, environmental exploration is also a HUGE thing for kids.

Just last night even, I was making soup and Squish dragged their Montessori stool over to help. While we were stirring, Squish, out of ABSOLUTE NOWHERE, decides to just slap the soup pot as it's warming to boil.

Then, Squish proceeds to, in the most toddler way, tell me off because the boiling pot - that I told them was hot - was hot?

So, needless to say, the scene with the razor is almost uncomfortably realistic if you have children or have spent any time with them.

Yet, the difference in responses between Victor and Elizabeth is telling.

Some have said it's based on gender.

Which it could be!

However, it could also be such that Elizabeth was raised in a home in which she was allowed the space to grow and be curious and, as such, she is modeling the parenting she has been taught.

(If she was raised in/ schooled the convent, as opposed to just having discerned out of it, it's possible she had a female mentor who taught her the things she knows. Many convents/ female orders are steeped deeply in philosophy and mysticism, which could have been why Elizabeth was uniquely open to the Creature in ways others were not. So, yes gendered, but a different kind of gendered?)

However, Elizabeth is so comfortable with the Creature. She lets him touch her throat to learn how to make sounds. (Something I did with Squish often because I'm a musician and they were confounded by how sounds came out.)

She teaches The Creature how to share by playing with his "toys" with him.

"Is this a leaf? Is it for me? Thank you!"

One of my earliest memories, with my now toddler, (I will not cry), is sitting on my grandparents' back porch while we were maintaining their house for them. They hadn't decided what they wanted to do with it. We needed a place to say that was closer to my folks because my pregnancy was hard. So, we ended up in their house.

And, I sat pointing out all the colors of the leaves to my couple month old kid. As they would fall, I would hand one to Squish, and then I would take it back and say almost exactly those words, in almost exactly that way.

About a year later, months after my grandfather had died, we began looking for a new house because they decided they wanted to sell. But, I still sat on that porch, this time actively passing leaves back and forth, still playing that game.

And, we were building neural pathways - ones about sharing, and saying thank you, and the seasons, and the texture of leaves.

After this beautiful scene where The Creature learns a new name, Elizabeth, we get Victor trying to force intelligence on The Creature.

He's rushing The Creature in the same way he was rushed.

Why?

As I mentioned earlier, he's jealous of a love that doesn't seem to be there, or at least, if it is later, it isn't yet.

Where Elizabeth has found a certain freedom in her parenthood/ motherhood, Victor sees himself as imprisoned in the same way his Creature is.

Victor, in so many ways, falls prey to the mindset so many have surrounding neurodiverse individuals. He falsely believes that because The Creature cannot communicate in verbal speech that it has no complex thought.

This was the moment, I found, Del Toro to be using old Frankenstein tropes very powerfully in 2025 - whether or not he intended to I don't really care.

In the 1931 film, and in many adaptations afterwards, The Creature is non or minimally speaking and, therefore, everyone around The Creature assumes he is violent, dangerous, and stupid.

Victor makes the same mistake in Del Toro's film, despite us, through the person of Elizabeth, seeing the contrary.

In 2025, we have seen false narratives presented about many people.

In April we saw RFK Jr infamously saying that autistic people would "never write a poem, play baseball, or use a toilet unassisted." Just this past September, (mercy was that just 2 months ago?!?), we saw 47 say Tylenol causes autism as well as calling autism a "horrible, horrible crisis," while continuing to resow doubt in vaccines during the Oval Office press conference.

Even before that, Autism Speaks, the most well known Autism "charity" (derogatory, read: hate group) organization in the US, has been promoting the narrative that autism is something horrible that destroys families, kills people, and is a "monster" as was show in their infamous "I Am Autism" commercial, which was honestly filmed more like a horror movie than a promotion of a charity organization. Even now, most of the funds donated to them go to advertising as opposed to directly to families in need, they have no autistic representation (of any level of support) within their organization, and they are still practicing (soft) eugenics in the way they speak surrounding autism.

While autism is definitely a disability, that disables autistic folks to various degrees what is needed across the community is to look into comorbidities affecting things like: swallowing, epilepsy, migraine, and other debilitating conditions that affect our daily lives.

It's not to blame our mothers for taking Tylenol when they may suffer from fevers or chronic migraine. It's not to blame life saving vaccines. And, it's certainly not to call us stupid and say we have nothing to offer.

That's not what's helpful.

In addition, we have seen and increase in the physical brutalization of migrants, immigrants, asylum seekers, BIPOC folks, and those who wish to protect them.

While I do not have as much/ any personal experience with that, I have been watching the videos people have posted of these events. I have read the stories of the teachers, mothers, priests, pastors, and children who have been brutalized by those who just don't care.

Del Toro gives Victor at least SOME reason not to care. He gives us some reason to, at least, somewhat try to understand Victor's actions.

Yet, even Victor's misunderstanding of the vision of the burning St. Michael is telling to me.

St. Michael is meant to "save us from the wickedness and snares of the devil." Instead, Victor believes that St. Michael is inviting him to fight death by eliminating the very thing that will bring us to Heaven. In so many ways, in 2025, the people who are in power have taken the words of the Bible and turned them upside down.

Instead of protecting the immigrant and the disabled, they're leaving them to rot.

Instead of teaching the children, they're removing funding to educate children, especially disabled children.

Instead of feeding the hungry, they're taking away benefits.

The choice to have St. Michael be a call TO TEMPTATION, for Victor to follow it, and then believe so FULLY THAT HE'S RIGHT, is a direct response to the political world in which we find ourselves RIGHT NOW!

Therefore, after brutalizing his Creature because, in his fear, The Creature learns nothing, Victor chooses to, once more in jealousy, pin The Creature for murder ... and then try to kill it.

Victor's eyes are finally opened to The Creature's intelligence by The Creature's fear.

Why?

Fear is something Victor felt once too.

He felt it when his mother was dying.

The idea of loss might be the only thing more powerful to Victor than that of control.

That's why Victor goes back. He can't lose. Not again.

Yet, Victor would have never been able to teach The Creature even if he had saved him.

The Creature needed The Old Man as much as the Old Man needed The Creature.

Victor would have never let The Creature touch him. He would have never had the patience to let The Creature learn. He's too controlling.

The two people who have a lasting impact on drawing out who The Creature IS out of him are the two people who aren't afraid to kneel down and teach him. They aren't afraid to be touched by him and let him touch them.

This is shown when Elizabeth meets The Creature again. She gets a hug.

But, what does Victor get?

Victor gets **exactly** what he modeled.

A temper tantrum.

A monster-sized temper tantrum.

He expects The Creature to "behave" better because he can speak better.

And, can I tell you something as a hyperlexic, Level 1 support need autistic person?

My father was the same way.

"If you're going to talk like an adult, you can act like one. If you talk like an encyclopedia, act like you know something."

Every argument was the same argument.

So is Victor's and The Creature's.

The Creature is so simple. He just wants someone to be with him. He just wants "a companion."

The first time my spouse and I met, it was at a poetry slam that I had to be dragged to by another friend of mine because I wanted to impress my father. A mutual friend of ours, not the one who introduced us, claims we fell in love the moment we met.

Yet, what first drew me to him?

He was fun.

I had never had fun, or at least, not the free and easy kind I had with him.

Even still, my father tried to make me "perfect" for my spouse as we dated.

It wasn't until one of my mentors told me to "stop being so rigid" that I stepped back into the "Creature-ness" that my spouse first fell in love with. My spouse is now responsible for a very large collection of Vincent Van Gogh ties, and my short hair, and a great many other things about me that my father dislikes. Though, my father would never know my spouse was responsible for those things because it's not worth the argument.

However, upon hearing the fight, Elizabeth comes running. Not for Victor, she hears the angry screams of her baby.

When I first watched, the look on Elizabeth's face reminded me of something I couldn't quite place.

Then, I realized it's the way Mary is often painted or sculpted in the 4th Station of the Cross, in which "Jesus Meets his Mother."

(The Stations of the Cross being a Catholic devotion to "walking the steps of Jesus" as he marched toward Calvary.)

(Here's a good one because it lets you zoom on different angles of the image.)

(From: r/Frankenstein)

Immediately following this, they do not kiss.

They embrace.

And, the way that they embrace is important.

Toddlers do this thing that is literally called the "toddler flop." Like, seriously, that's the developmental name for this thing toddlers do.

And, when The Creature goes to hug Elizabeth?

She rises up to receive him, and he flops.

Not completely or he'd crush her.

He knows that.

But, he flops as much as he can in total safety against her.

That's why toddlers flop.

Toddlers flop when they're secure in whomever is holding them.

Where did The Creature learn this?

The Old Man.

The first person The Creature "flopped" against was The Old Man.

However, even before that, he curled against the man's chest.

Babies curl.

Toddler's flop.

Though, once again upon seeing The Creature get to have his mother?

Victor decides The Creature has to die.

Yet, like every parent, Elizabeth chooses to sacrifice herself as opposed to letting her child die. She can't do it. Despite the imagery of the Virgin Mary, she's not her. She's the convent flunk out.

She's just a parent, and she can't let her child die for her.

Once again, Del Toro inverts Shelley's narrative.

Victor is committing the Creature's murders for him.

Harlander seems to be the sort of vague Clerval stand in, and Victor inadvertently kills him. In the novel, The Creature kills Clerval and Victor is pinned for his murder. Del Toro has Victor pin the Creature for this "Clerval" murder.

Elizabeth, Victor shoots.

William? The Creature is the gun and Victor points him.

Meanwhile, in the chaos Victor causes, The Creature calmly carries Elizabeth down to a place where they can talk.

"I longed for something I could not quite name, and in you I found it. To be lost and to be found, that is the lifespan of love, and in its brevity, its tragedy. This has been made eternal. Better this way. To fade. With your eyes gazing upon me."

The Creature doesn't try to stop her from dying, and he knows what death is, so it's not because he doesn't understand.

He watched his friend, The Old Man, die when the wolves attacked.

Yet, he does similar things with both characters.

He touches. He cradles. He listens.

I told my spouse that if I were to be taken away from my child, for any reason, that some of my first words to them would be something like: "I was lost but, because I knew you needed me, I found myself. I remade myself because you needed someone better than who I was before you were born."

And, I think, that's the heart of what Elizabeth is saying.

She longed for freedom, and in giving freedom to The Creature, in giving it love, she found what she had been longing for.

The Creature lets Elizabeth go because it's what she wants. Yet, in His childlike nature, he curls up into her.

He has lost his mother.

He lost the person who saw both his intelligence and his innocence.

He lost the person who he could trust for complete and total safety.

He lost the person who loved him, without anything attached to that love.

No dependency.

Yet, Victor, still incapable of compassion, sees this, even after what William has said, even after all that has passed, and still cannot take responsibility.

Therefore, he and The Creature begin to play a game of cat and mouse through the northern arctic circle.

Yet, all of what we have seen?

It's actually being spoken to The Captain by Victor and The Creature.

The Creature is telling this story to a captive Victor and The Captain of the boat.

Thus, it is not until the very last moments of Victor's life that he really listens to the story as told by The Creature. It is not until he is forced to confront the story of all that has passed through the eyes of the life that he made that Victor sees what he has done. It is only then that he realizes that he needs to ask for forgiveness.

The Creature?

The Creature offers that forgiveness.

Why?

Because of the Old Man. Because of Elizabeth.

It all comes down to the way the Old Man spoke about the pain that he carried after being a soldier while The Creature, still in his emotional infancy, curled up against his chest.

It's about the leaf, and the way Elizabeth taught the Creature to be thankful.

In the end, The Creature forgives, not because he is innocent inherently, it's because he CHOOSES kindness. He CHOOSES innocence. He makes a choice.

My father is struggling with his health lately, and I am, in my own way, choosing forgiveness.

We have not shared our tales. He has not given me "Victor's tale" nor have I shared with him "His Creature's Tale."

He has not asked me to sit with him and say his name like I once did when it meant the world to me so that I may absolve him of guilt as his child. He has not asked me to forgive him his sins.

Yet, I think the most powerful choice we, The Creatures, can make is to do it anyway.

Peace and Love,

Interestingly this is also an issue in documentary or faux-documentary filming as well. Comparing the 1999 Walking With Dinosaurs to the 2025 WWD e.g. the forest fire scenes, both partially or fully digital dinosaurs in real locations, but the early WWD feels like I could physically see the dinosaurs in the landscapes around me if I looked hard enough, while the new one falls into exactly the same trap as the Jurassic World movie. Same crew, same premise, 25 years of tech and scientific development, but it can't even get close to the original in feeling tangible.

See these clips from the 1999/2000 WWD (cw for documentary-style animal death and prop corpses), both the forest fire section and the wide/depth shots

Versus the same type of shots in the trailer for the 2025 one

A Comparative Analysis of Trauma, Identity, and Moral Divergence in "Turnabout Goodbyes"

Introduction: Mirrors in the Shadows

In Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney, the fourth case, "Turnabout Goodbyes," explores the corrosive effects of guilt and the fragility of memory through two characters bound by tragedy: Miles Edgeworth, the prosecutor haunted by his past, and Yanni Yogi, the disgraced bailiff consumed by vengeance. Both are products of the DL-6 Incident, a 15-year-old unsolved murder that reshaped their lives. Yet, their responses to trauma diverge starkly, positioning Yogi as a distorted mirror of Edgeworth’s deepest fears. This essay examines how Yogi’s descent into madness and manipulation reflects what Edgeworth might have become without redemption, dissecting their shared roots in guilt, their contrasting coping mechanisms, and their ultimate divergence in moral trajectory.

I. The DL-6 Incident: Shared Trauma, Fractured Identities

The DL-6 Incident serves as the psychological crucible for both characters. Trapped in an elevator during a power outage, Yogi panicked and attacked Gregory Edgeworth, Miles’ father. Miles, a child at the time, inadvertently triggered a gunshot that left all three unconscious. When the doors opened, Gregory was dead, and Yogi became the prime suspect. However, the true killer, Manfred von Karma a prosecutor obsessed with perfection had fired the fatal shot to avenge a professional slight .

Yogi’s Downward Spiral

Yogi’s acquittal hinged on a plea of temporary insanity orchestrated by his lawyer, Robert Hammond. To escape conviction, Yogi adopted a façade of amnesia, feigning brain damage from oxygen deprivation. This charade cost him his career, fiancée, and dignity, leaving him isolated and bitter . His parrot, Polly, was named after his deceased lover became his only companion, a symbol of his fractured identity and clinging to the past .

Edgeworth’s Lingering Nightmare

Edgeworth, meanwhile, internalized the trauma as a recurring nightmare. He believed he had killed his father, a guilt compounded by von Karma’s manipulation. Unlike Yogi’s performative amnesia, Edgeworth’s memory loss was genuine, a psychological defense against the horror of the incident. His fear of earthquakes a remnant of the elevator trauma underscores his unresolved trauma .

Comparative Insight: Both men are defined by DL-6, but Yogi’s chosen amnesia contrasts with Edgeworth’s imposed repression. Yogi’s pretense shields him from accountability, while Edgeworth’s repression traps him in self-loathing.

II. Coping Mechanisms: Amnesia as Armor vs. Guilt as Catalyst

Yogi: The Prisoner of Performance

Yogi’s senile act mixing names, falling asleep mid-conversation is a deliberate performance to evade his past. By burning his fingerprints and renouncing his identity, he erases his former self, becoming a spectral figure lingering at Gourd Lake . His revenge plot, orchestrated by von Karma, reflects his surrender to bitterness; he frames Edgeworth not just for Hammond’s murder but as a proxy for Gregory, the man he blames for his ruin .

Edgeworth: The Weight of Unspoken Truth

Edgeworth, conversely, wears his guilt openly. His aloof demeanor and pursuit of perfection as a prosecutor stem from a desire to atone for his perceived sin. When he confesses to DL-6 during the trial, he embodies a fatalistic acceptance of his nightmare as reality. Yet, Phoenix Wright’s intervention proving von Karma’s culpability forces Edgeworth to confront his misplaced guilt .

Comparative Insight: Yogi’s performative amnesia isolates him, while Edgeworth’s repressed guilt connects him to others (e.g., Phoenix, Larry). Their coping mechanisms reveal divergent paths: one toward self-destruction, the other toward potential redemption.

III. Foils in Revenge and Redemption

Yogi: The Tragic Villain

Yogi’s arc is a cautionary tale of vengeance. His hatred for Hammond and Edgeworth stems from their roles in his downfall: Hammond for exploiting his trauma, and Edgeworth for symbolizing the Edgeworth legacy. By murdering Hammond and framing Miles, Yogi seeks to destroy the remnants of DL-6, yet his actions only perpetuate the cycle of violence. His breakdown in court dropping the senile act to admit his crimes reveals a man exhausted by his own façade .

Edgeworth: The Reluctant Hero

Edgeworth’s fear of becoming like Yogi is palpable. When he confesses to DL-6, he teeters on the edge of self-destruction, mirroring Yogi’s surrender to despair. However, Phoenix’s unwavering belief in his innocence disrupts this trajectory. By proving von Karma’s guilt, Phoenix not only exonerates Edgeworth but also dismantles the legacy of DL-6, freeing Edgeworth from its shadow .

Comparative Insight: Yogi’s story ends in defeat, while Edgeworth’s concludes with catharsis. Their fates highlight the duality of trauma: one consumed by it, the other transcending it through connection.

IV. Symbolism and Narrative Function

The Parrot and the Past

Polly, Yogi’s parrot, is a narrative linchpin. Her repetition of “Don’t forget DL-6” exposes Yogi’s subconscious guilt, undermining his amnesia act . For Edgeworth, the phrase “DL-6” represents a specter he cannot escape until Phoenix recontextualizes it as von Karma’s crime, not his own.

The Elevator and the Lake

The elevator in DL-6 symbolizes entrapment, a physical manifestation of psychological stagnation. Yogi’s shack at Gourd Lake mirrors this: a stagnant space where he reenacts his trauma. Edgeworth’s journey, conversely, moves him from the confined courtroom (a metaphorical elevator) to the open waters of self-forgiveness .

Conclusion: Reflections in the Water

Yanni Yogi and Miles Edgeworth are narrative twins, bound by shared trauma but divided by choice. Yogi’s tragedy lies in his inability to move beyond DL-6; his amnesia is a prison, his vengeance a dead end. Edgeworth, by contrast, confronts his guilt with Phoenix’s help, transforming it into a catalyst for growth. In Yogi, we see the ghost of what Edgeworth might have become—a man eroded by guilt—but in Edgeworth’s redemption, we find hope that even the deepest scars can heal.

I would have been okay with MHA having a bittersweet ending if it had actually stuck to its themes all the way through.

The bittersweet ending of Animorphs works because it seemed inevitable. Even with the goofier moments, there was always a thread of tragedy, a reminder that this cycle didn't start with the kids and it probably wouldn't end with them.

But MHA started out with so much hope. Deku becoming the greatest hero, the hero he needed at the time, was a forgone conclusion.

The theme of hands reaching out and lifting others up was a constant throughout the series. We see villains like Gentle Criminal actually seek redemption and find it.

But then everything just turns into a drawn-out tragic fight to the death. It makes for great angst AMVs, but it feels deeply unsatisfying, especially since the epilogue tries to gloss over it with a wild tone shift.

There's a brief mention of Ochaco mourning Toga and Enji visiting Touya before he dies of his injuries, but overall, we're supposed to believe that the world is okay and on the right track now when not much has changed. Citizens are a little kinder, but the Hero system is still in place and nobody questions it.

And Hawks, who has been hurt most by the system, is now upholding it. And he seems perfectly happy with it. No mention about the loss of his wings or his lingering guilt over Twice.

Animorphs actually sits with the weight of the war and shows that the kids are Very Much Not Okay after everything. Cassie is the best off because she tried to cling to her principles throughout even if she didn't always succeed. But nobody came out unscathed, and the narrative doesn't pretend otherwise.