Documentary Review: Breaking Boundaries - The Science of our Planet (2021)

Why this Netflix Documentary Hits Different in 2025

I finally got around to watching "Breaking Boundaries: The Science of Our Planet" on Netflix, and honestly, I wish I'd seen it sooner. Released in 2021 and narrated by David Attenborough (because of course it is), this documentary does something most climate films don't: it actually explains what "planetary boundaries" are and why crossing them should terrify us more than it apparently does.

Unlike the usual climate documentary formula of "here's how bad things are, feel guilty, maybe recycle more," Breaking Boundaries introduces a framework that's both more scientific and somehow more hopeful. It's based on the work of Johan Rockström and his team at the Stockholm Resilience Centre, and four years later, it feels unnervingly prescient.

The documentary centres on this concept of nine planetary boundaries - essentially Earth's operating limits for things like climate change, biodiversity loss, nitrogen cycles, and ocean acidification. Think of them as the planet's vital signs, and we've already crossed several red lines.

What struck me watching this in 2025 is how the film predicted we'd see accelerating feedback loops, and... well, here we are. The documentary warned about tipping points where environmental changes become self-reinforcing, and we're watching that play out in real time with things like Arctic ice loss and forest dieback.

The film does something smart by not just focusing on carbon emissions (though those obviously matter enormously). It shows how biodiversity loss, soil degradation, and freshwater depletion are all interconnected crises that need addressing simultaneously. This systems thinking feels more relevant than ever as we grapple with compound environmental challenges.

Watching Breaking Boundaries now, the scientific predictions hold up remarkably well. The documentary warned about increasing extreme weather events, accelerating ice sheet loss, and ecosystem collapses - and unfortunately, we've seen all of these intensify since 2021. 

The film's emphasis on biodiversity as equally important to climate stability has proven particularly prescient. We've continued to see massive species decline, and the connection between ecosystem health and climate resilience that the documentary highlighted has become increasingly obvious through recent climate disasters.

What I found most compelling was the film's explanation of how crossing one planetary boundary makes it harder to stay within others. This cascading effect is exactly what we're seeing play out globally - climate change is accelerating biodiversity loss, which reduces ecosystem resilience, which makes climate adaptation harder. The Paris Agreement goals that seemed ambitious in 2021 now look insufficient based on what we've learned about tipping points and feedback loops. But the film's emphasis on rapid, systemic change rather than individual actions has become mainstream thinking in climate policy circles.

The documentary's timeline suggested we had a narrow window to act before crossing irreversible tipping points. Four years later, that window feels even narrower, but not necessarily closed. Some of the technological solutions the film hinted at - renewable energy scaling, nature-based solutions, regenerative agriculture - have actually accelerated faster than the filmmakers probably expected.

What separates Breaking Boundaries from other similar films is its focus on solutions that work with natural systems rather than against them. The documentary showcases examples of ecosystem restoration, sustainable agriculture, and renewable energy transitions that demonstrate change is possible at the scale we need.

The film's argument that we need to become better stewards of the planet rather than just reducing our harm has influenced a lot of current climate thinking. Concepts like re-wilding, regenerative practices, and working with natural carbon cycles have moved from fringe ideas to serious policy discussions.

In 2025, we're living through what many scientists are calling the "decisive decade" for climate action. Breaking Boundaries feels almost like a briefing document for this moment - it explains the scientific framework for understanding why everything feels so urgent and interconnected.

The film doesn't sugarcoat how dramatic the changes need to be. It talks about transforming agriculture, energy systems, and urban design simultaneously while protecting and restoring natural ecosystems. Watching it now, these transformations feel less like distant possibilities and more like the obvious next steps we're already starting to take.

What the documentary gets right is that this isn't just about preventing disaster - it's about creating a world that's actually better than what we have now. Cleaner air, more resilient food systems, healthier ecosystems, and more stable climate conditions aren't sacrifices we're making for future generations - they're improvements we'd benefit from immediately.

Breaking Boundaries succeeds because it treats viewers like adults who can handle scientific complexity. It doesn't dumb down planetary boundaries theory, but it makes it accessible. It doesn't minimise the scale of required changes, but it shows they're achievable.

Four years later, the documentary feels less like a warning and more like a roadmap. We're already crossing the boundaries it identified, but we're also scaling the solutions it highlighted. Whether we can do the latter fast enough to stabilise the former remains the defining question of our time.

If you haven't watched it yet, Breaking Boundaries offers something rare in climate media: a framework for understanding why everything environmental feels so connected and urgent, plus actual reasons to believe we can still navigate this crisis successfully. In 2025, that combination of scientific clarity and realistic hope feels pretty essential.

The Poore & Nemecek Study: A Comprehensive Look at Food's Environmental Impact

I keep seeing this study mentioned everywhere.The "Joseph Poore study" has become shorthand for "science proves meat is bad for the environment," but I realised I'd never actually read what the researchers found. So I dove in, and wow - it's both more nuanced and more comprehensive than what the general consensus suggests.

(Also, I don't have a cool infographic to share with this post because, let's be honest, environmental data visualisations are hard and I'm not a graphic designer. You'll have to settle for words.)

The study I'm talking about is "Reducing food's environmental impacts through producers and consumers" by Joseph Poore and Thomas Nemecek, published in Science in 2018. This wasn't some small-scale analysis - these researchers looked at environmental data from about 38,000 farms across 119 countries, covering roughly 40 different food products that represent around 90% of what humans eat globally.

But here's what made this study different: instead of just looking at carbon emissions (which most food studies focus on), they examined four major environmental impacts - greenhouse gas emissions, land use, freshwater use, and water pollution potential. It's like getting a full environmental report card instead of just a single grade.

The headline everyone remembers is that animal products generally have much higher environmental impacts than plant-based alternatives. Beef topped the charts for environmental damage, followed by lamb, cheese, and other animal products. Plant-based proteins like beans, nuts, and grains consistently showed lower impacts across all categories.

But the researchers found something that often gets lost in the discourse: massive variation within food categories. Some beef operations had surprisingly low environmental footprints, while some plant foods produced inefficiently had higher impacts than you'd expect. The worst plant foods were still typically better than the best animal products environmentally, but there were exceptions.

The numbers that really stuck with me: animal agriculture uses about 83% of farmland globally but provides only 18% of our calories and 37% of our protein. That's a pretty dramatic efficiency gap.

The study calculated that if someone eliminated animal products entirely, they could reduce their food-related environmental footprint by up to 73%. That's a huge potential impact, but the researchers were careful to note this was the maximum possible reduction - real-world results would vary based on what you're replacing animal products with and where your food comes from.

This is where things get interesting from a practical standpoint. The study showed that both how we produce food and what we choose to eat matter enormously. A locally-raised, grass-fed beef operation might have a lower footprint than almonds shipped from drought-stricken regions, even though beef generally ranks higher in environmental impact.

What I appreciated about reading the actual study is that Poore and Nemecek were upfront about their limitations. Data quality varied significantly between regions - they had great data from some places and had to make educated guesses about others. They also didn't account for nutritional differences between foods or the cultural and economic realities that influence what people eat.

The study also couldn't capture every environmental impact. Things like biodiversity effects, soil health changes over time, and the carbon sequestration potential of different farming systems weren't fully accounted for. These aren't criticisms of the research - they're just acknowledgments that environmental impact is incredibly complex.

Six years later, this research has become foundational to discussions about sustainable food systems. It provided the most comprehensive quantitative analysis we'd seen of food's environmental footprint, and it did so at a scale that previous studies couldn't match. But perhaps more importantly, it shifted the conversation from "should we eat less meat?" to "how do we optimise both production methods and consumption patterns for environmental sustainability?" The study showed that there's no single solution - we need better farming practices AND different dietary choices.

The study gives us a framework for thinking about food choices, not a rigid rulebook. And in a world where environmental challenges feel overwhelming, that kind of evidence-based guidance - messy and complex as it is - feels pretty valuable. Whether you're already plant-based, committed to regenerative agriculture, or just trying to make better choices, this research offers something useful: a reminder that our food choices matter, but that the details of how we implement change matter just as much.

Documentary Review: What the Health (2017)

 What the Health: Seven Years Later, What Still Holds Up?

When "What the Health" dropped in 2017, it sent shockwaves through Netflix queues and dinner table conversations alike. The documentary, produced by Kip Andersen and Keegan Kuhn (the team behind "Cowspiracy"), made bold claims about the links between animal products and chronic disease while questioning why major health organisations weren't sounding louder alarms.

Seven years later, as we navigate an era of increased health consciousness and climate awareness, it's worth revisiting what the film got right—and where it might have overstated its case.

The documentary's central argument—that plant-based diets can significantly improve health outcomes—has only grown stronger with time. The film highlighted research showing lower rates of heart disease, diabetes, and certain cancers among populations eating more plant-forward diets. This wasn't revolutionary science, but the documentary deserves credit for bringing these findings to mainstream audiences in an accessible way.

The film's critique of industry influence on dietary guidelines also feels increasingly relevant. From sugar industry lobbying to conflicts of interest in nutrition research, we've seen mounting evidence that corporate interests have indeed shaped public health messaging in ways that don't always serve the public interest.

However, some of the documentary's more dramatic claims haven't aged as well under scientific scrutiny. The film suggested that eating any amount of processed meat was equivalent to smoking cigarettes in terms of cancer risk—a comparison that oversimplified how epidemiological research actually works. While processed meat is classified as a Group 1 carcinogen by the World Health Organisation, the actual risk increase is much smaller than the film implied.

The documentary also painted all animal products with the same brush, suggesting that any consumption leads to disease. Current research presents a more nuanced picture: while excessive consumption of certain animal products (particularly processed meats) is associated with health risks, moderate consumption of fish, poultry, and dairy doesn't show the same stark correlations the film suggested.

Despite these scientific quibbles, "What the Health" succeeded in something arguably more important: it got people thinking critically about their food choices and the systems that influence them. The film sparked countless conversations about nutrition, prompted viewers to examine their own diets, and introduced many to the concept that food could be medicine.

The documentary also highlighted genuine problems in our food system and healthcare approach. Its criticism of the revolving door between industry and regulatory agencies wasn't wrong, even if some specific examples were oversimplified. The film's call for more emphasis on preventive nutrition rather than just treating symptoms with medication has become increasingly mainstream in medical thinking.

In 2025, we're living through what some call a "longevity revolution"—increased focus on health-span, not just lifespan. Plant-based eating has moved from fringe to mainstream, with major food companies investing billions in alternative proteins. Climate concerns have added another dimension to dietary choices that the film touched on but didn't fully explore.

The rise of personalised nutrition and nutrigenomics has also complicated the documentary's one-size-fits-all approach. We now better understand that optimal diets can vary significantly based on individual genetics, microbiomes, and metabolic profiles.

The documentary's greatest achievement wasn't necessarily in getting every scientific detail right—it was in inspiring people to take agency over their health and question systems that might not have their best interests at heart. In that sense, "What the Health" succeeded exactly where it needed to: not in the laboratory, but in the kitchen, where real change happens one meal at a time.

Whether you embrace everything the film argued or approach it with healthy skepticism, its central invitation remains compelling: pay attention to what you eat, question who benefits from your food choices, and remember that every bite is a vote for the kind of world—and body—you want to create.

Review: Cheaper Faster Better by Tom Steyer

Can a Former Hedge Fund Billionaire Lead the Climate Fight?

Tom Steyer's "Cheaper, Faster, Better" presents a paradox that's hard to ignore. Here's a billionaire who made his fortune in hedge funds – an industry with deep ties to fossil fuel investments – now positioning himself as a champion of renewable energy and climate action. The author's voice in non-fiction carries the weight of their lived experience and credibility in ways that fiction simply doesn't. When Tom Steyer writes about climate solutions we can't separate his billionaire hedge fund background from his arguments the way we might separate a novelist from their fictional characters.

To his credit, Steyer doesn't shy away from his past. He acknowledges that his hedge fund, Farallon Capital, invested in fossil fuel companies, and he's been transparent about divesting from these holdings. The book argues that renewable energy isn't just environmentally necessary – it's economically inevitable. Solar and wind are now cheaper than fossil fuels in many markets, creating what he calls a "clean energy revolution" driven by market forces rather than just environmental concerns.

His central thesis is compelling: we don't need to sacrifice economic growth for environmental protection because clean energy is simply better business. The data he presents on falling renewable costs and job creation in the clean energy sector is solid and well-sourced. But there's an elephant in the room. Steyer spent decades profiting from the very system he now criticises. While people absolutely can evolve their thinking – and should be encouraged to do so – there's something unsettling about a billionaire hedge fund manager suddenly becoming the face of climate activism.

Despite these concerns, Steyer makes some important points. His insider knowledge of how capital flows work gives him credible insights into why clean energy investments are accelerating. He's right that economic arguments often persuade people who remain unmoved by environmental appeals. The book also highlights genuine success stories where clean energy has created jobs and economic opportunities in communities that desperately needed them. These aren't just feel-good anecdotes – they're examples of how climate action can address economic inequality if done thoughtfully.

However, there's minimal discussion of the lifestyle changes that might be necessary for meaningful climate action. The book also glosses over the role that financial speculation and short-term profit maximisation have played in delaying climate action. Most notably, there's little acknowledgment that the same financial system that made Steyer wealthy continues to fund fossil fuel expansion globally. Bank lending to fossil fuel companies actually increased after the Paris Agreement, suggesting that good intentions from individual billionaires aren't enough to shift systemic behaviour.

Can we trust a former hedge fund billionaire to lead on climate? Maybe the better question is whether we should have to. Steyer's conversion may be genuine, but it also highlights how much power we've ceded to wealthy individuals to solve collective problems. The book is worth reading for its economic insights and policy recommendations, but approach it as one perspective among many rather than a definitive guide to climate solutions. Real climate action will require voices from frontline communities, young activists, scientists, and yes, even reformed billionaires – but probably not as the primary messengers.

Steyer may have genuinely changed his mind about climate, and his economic insights shouldn't be dismissed simply because of his background. While the system that enriched him remains largely intact, perhaps books like this represent one necessary step in a broader transformation - imperfect messengers contributing to a conversation that ultimately needs many more voices to succeed. 

Documentary Review: The Game Changers (2018)

 The Game Changers: How Plant-Based Eating Benefits Both Your Health and the Planet

If you haven't watched "The Game Changers" yet, this Netflix documentary might just change how you think about food, performance, and environmental impact. Following elite athletes who've adopted plant-based diets, the film makes a compelling case that what's good for our bodies is also good for our planet.

The documentary follows fighters, weightlifters, and endurance athletes who've discovered that plant-based nutrition doesn't just maintain their performance – it often enhances it. From faster recovery times to improved cardiovascular health, these athletes are proving that you don't need animal products to be strong and competitive. But here's what makes this particularly relevant for eco-conscious viewers: the same dietary choices that are optimising these athletes' health are also dramatically reducing their environmental footprint.

Animal agriculture is responsible for about 14.5% of global greenhouse gas emissions, according to the UN Food and Agriculture Organisation. When we choose plant-based meals, we're cutting our carbon footprint significantly. A single plant-based meal can save the equivalent of driving 30 miles worth of carbon emissions compared to a meal centred around beef. The documentary touches on this connection, showing how our food choices ripple outward to affect water usage, land use, and overall planetary health. It's not just about personal wellness – it's about collective environmental stewardship.

You don't need to become a professional athlete or go completely plant-based overnight to benefit from this approach. The film suggests that even incorporating more plant-based meals into your week can improve your energy levels, support better heart health, and reduce inflammation. From a climate perspective, every plant-forward meal counts. Whether it's Meatless Monday or simply adding more vegetables to your existing meals, these choices add up to meaningful environmental impact when adopted by communities.

"The Game Changers" presents an encouraging message: taking care of our health and taking care of our planet aren't separate goals. They're interconnected choices that can enhance both our personal wellbeing and our environmental legacy. The next time you're planning meals, consider that you're not just fuelling your body – you're casting a vote for the kind of world you want to live in.

Documentary Review: Forks over Knives (2011)

Forks over Knives is a documentary that advocates for a whole-food, plant-based diet, primarily from a health perspective. It follows the work of Dr. T. Colin Campbell and Dr. Caldwell Esselstyn, who argue that many chronic diseases - including heart disease, type 2 diabetes, and come cancers - can be prevented or even reversed through a low-fat, plant-based diet.

While the film focuses mainly on health outcomes, it touches briefly on the environmental impact of animal agriculture suggesting that a shift to plant-based eating also benefits the planet. However the climate angle is not deeply explored in the film itself. 

In 2025, the core health claims presented in Fork Over Knives remain relevant. A large body of peer-reviewed research supports the idea that diets high in whole plant foods and low in processed meats and saturated fats are associated with lower risk of cardiovascular disease, type 2 diabetes, hypertension, and obesity. Major health organisations, such as the American Heart Association and the World Health Organisation, continue to emphasise plant-forward eating patterns.

From a climate perspective, the environmental argument for plant-based diets has become much stronger since the film's release. According to the IPCC and studies published in journals such as Science and Nature, animal agriculture is a major contributor to greenhouse gas emissions, deforestation, and water use. In 2018, a landmark study led by Joseph Poore found that shifting to a plant-based diet could reduce food-related emissions by up to 70%.

Despite this the film does not explore the climate science in depth, but still the message in Forks Over Knives - that diet is a powerful tool for both personal and public health - has aged well. As chronic disease rates and climate pressures continue to rise, the film's call to reconsider what's on our plates feels more relevant than ever. 

 

Review: Here, Quarry Bay

If you're plant-based in Hong Kong, chances are you've already heard of Here - the east-side offshoot of the beloved Years. Tucked into quiet corner of Quarry Bay / Taikoo, this spot has become my weekly ritual, and honestly, choosing a photo to post each time is getting harder than picking what to eat.

Their Tom Yum is one of the best versions in the city - rich, aromatic, and spicy without overpowering the palate. It's packed with tofu, veggies, and herbs, and it's a deeply comforting dish.

The vegan calamari is a must-order. Made with oyster mushrooms, it's perfectly crispy outside, tender inside, and comes with a tangy dip that balances the richness. It's great for sharing but I usually don't. 

The cold noodle chicken salad is a revelation! It's smothered in a creamy peanut dressing that hits the sweet and savoury balance just right. We started out sharing a portion but the next time we visited we each had one, it is that good!

This salad / rice bowl is jam packed with veggies like edamame, features vegan salmon, delicious tofu and more. That pink dressing in the background is to die for!

The hummus bowl is hearty and wholesome - think roasted cauliflower, tofu, avocado, tomatoes and toast.

The PBJ chocolate sourdough toast is delicious. It's more like desert than breakfast and makes for a real good photo. The vegan cream is really good.

 The Sesame Ice-cream Pancake Blackfest features black sesame ice-cream, black sesame sauce, wild berries, fig, oreo, and bamboo charcoal pancakes. It's almost to pretty too eat.

If you're looking for a plant-based spot, this is the kind of place you end up to returning to without thinking twice. It's calm, consistent, and full of small details that make you feel taken care of. By far my favourite restaurant in the group.