The paradox I usually face with Guillermo Del Toro is that I rarely like the stories he chooses to tell even though I adore how he tells them. His talent as a director is undeniable. And many times I find myself coming away from his films feeling a weird mix of satisfaction and disappointment, wishing I could like the story as much as I liked the telling. And I always wondered, "what if, for once, one of the stories clicked with me?" Now I have the answer I would be swept away entirely.
Pan's Labyrinth is an ingenious juxtaposition of dreamlike fantasy and nightmarish reality. Innocence and violence. Mythological beasts and human monsters. It sets up a dual narrative to explore the world of young Ofelia's fairy tale that exists within (and beyond) the cruelties of a fascist regime. Ofelia arrives at her new home with her pregnant mother, and soon finds herself face to face with a faun who unlocks the rest of Ofelia's adventures. Alone, she descends into a dark underworld, facing exotic (yet charming) mythological creatures whose horrors curiously pale compared to the monsters of the intertwined story.
While the young Ofelia fulfills her destiny with magical stones, mandrake roots, and chalk-drawn doorways, the world around her unravels its parallel plot of a war between freedom and fascism with instruments of torture, cold blooded murder, and oppression spelled out in excruciatingly graphic, yet not gratuitous, detail. Here resides the sadistic Captain Vidal, human only in appearance, who early on states " I want my son born in a clean, new Spain" with a not-so-subtle invocation of atrocity's past. Is it any wonder we soon see Vidal washing his hands in the blood of the innocent? Is it any wonder Ofelia pursues the promise of the faun the only ray of hope in the film despite the dangers she faces? And is it any wonder that the single most terrifying moment comes when Ofelia faces not a fantastic mythical beast, but Captain Vidal alone in the labyrinth?
Pan's Labyrinth is an intimate exploration of the dark side of human consciousness, both childlike (represented by Ofelia) and mature (Captain Vidal), and, more impressively, it's not afraid to deal with the consequences when these two worlds collide.
I adore this film. The virtuoso cinematography, score, direction, editing, writing, and performances combine to paint a beautiful picture of the most vile and ugly human attributes. I loved watching Vidal ride off to strike at the resistance, and the camera pans past a tree, where upon it cuts to Ofelia wandering alone through the forest. And when Ofelia tells a story to her unborn brother, her head resting upon her mother's belly, and the camera sinks down showing the unborn fetus in the womb, then pans over to visually represent the tale Ofelia tells, finally drifting back to the reality of the bedroom bedtime story.
And I loved that the movie possessed an unmistakable awe and wonder for its material. Del Toro energizes this bedtime story with the same dreamy fascination of a youth succumbing to sleep, listening to his mother's soft voice caressing him with a lullaby. Many films present fantasy and fairy tales, but Pan's Labyrinth genuinely believes.
Pan's Labyrinth is an ingenious juxtaposition of dreamlike fantasy and nightmarish reality. Innocence and violence. Mythological beasts and human monsters. It sets up a dual narrative to explore the world of young Ofelia's fairy tale that exists within (and beyond) the cruelties of a fascist regime. Ofelia arrives at her new home with her pregnant mother, and soon finds herself face to face with a faun who unlocks the rest of Ofelia's adventures. Alone, she descends into a dark underworld, facing exotic (yet charming) mythological creatures whose horrors curiously pale compared to the monsters of the intertwined story.
While the young Ofelia fulfills her destiny with magical stones, mandrake roots, and chalk-drawn doorways, the world around her unravels its parallel plot of a war between freedom and fascism with instruments of torture, cold blooded murder, and oppression spelled out in excruciatingly graphic, yet not gratuitous, detail. Here resides the sadistic Captain Vidal, human only in appearance, who early on states " I want my son born in a clean, new Spain" with a not-so-subtle invocation of atrocity's past. Is it any wonder we soon see Vidal washing his hands in the blood of the innocent? Is it any wonder Ofelia pursues the promise of the faun the only ray of hope in the film despite the dangers she faces? And is it any wonder that the single most terrifying moment comes when Ofelia faces not a fantastic mythical beast, but Captain Vidal alone in the labyrinth?
Pan's Labyrinth is an intimate exploration of the dark side of human consciousness, both childlike (represented by Ofelia) and mature (Captain Vidal), and, more impressively, it's not afraid to deal with the consequences when these two worlds collide.
I adore this film. The virtuoso cinematography, score, direction, editing, writing, and performances combine to paint a beautiful picture of the most vile and ugly human attributes. I loved watching Vidal ride off to strike at the resistance, and the camera pans past a tree, where upon it cuts to Ofelia wandering alone through the forest. And when Ofelia tells a story to her unborn brother, her head resting upon her mother's belly, and the camera sinks down showing the unborn fetus in the womb, then pans over to visually represent the tale Ofelia tells, finally drifting back to the reality of the bedroom bedtime story.
And I loved that the movie possessed an unmistakable awe and wonder for its material. Del Toro energizes this bedtime story with the same dreamy fascination of a youth succumbing to sleep, listening to his mother's soft voice caressing him with a lullaby. Many films present fantasy and fairy tales, but Pan's Labyrinth genuinely believes.