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such a nasty woman | by maryann johanson

Pan’s Labyrinth (review)

No Place Like Home

Oh please, whatever you do, do not bring a child to see Pan’s Labyrinth. First of all, it’s in Spanish, and while reading a book to a kid is a grand thing, reading a movie is a sure way to annoy yourself, the kid, and everyone sitting within five rows.

But mostly: Holy ruby slippers, is this one grim film. Enthrallingly spooky, appropriately frightful, but grim. Grim like it might make the Brothers Grimm say, “Well, it’s a bit dark, isn’t it?” in an accusatory tone. I know, it looks all fantastical and wondrous and there’s even a pretty little girl in it, and what bad things could possibly happen to a pretty little girl in a fantasy movie?
Leave it to the masterfully imaginative Mexican-American filmmaker Guillermo del Toro to show us. Del Toro is redefining gothic horror for the new century — even with flicks like the superhero action Hellboy, which reveled in the atmosphere of esoteric eerieness it created — and he does it here by taking imagery and characters we’re familiar with and twisting them into new shapes that acknowledge the deep history of mythology while injecting a decidedly modern discomfort with the uncertainty and infinite capriciousness of the world. Unlike in the fairy tales of old, perhaps, where little girls felt safe until the very moment in which they learned they were not, there is not even that much comfort to be found in a world created by del Toro.

We have here Ofelia (a beautiful performance by Ivana Baquero, 12 years old when the film was shot), living in mirror image of The Wizard of Oz: it is her real world that demands a ruby-slipper escape. It is 1944, and Spain is in the grip of Franco’s post-civil-war repression. Orphaned Ofelia and her widowed mother, pregnant by her new husband, go to live with him (Sergi López), a military captain heading up a mountain base, his mission to clear out the last dregs of rebel guerillas hiding in the forests. He’s a vicious man, which Ofelia, and we, sense immediately. More warning to parents who might chance taking a child to this (and to squeamish adults): the captain’s sadism does not occur offscreen, but very much on; and know that López (Jet Lag, Dirty Pretty Things), a fantastically talented actor, takes on the captain in a way that brooks no camp, suggests not a hint of cartoonishness.

And so it is with del Toro (Mimic), in his approach to the fantasy life that Ofelia retreats into in these dire circumstances. There is nothing bright or cheery about the tangled forest labyrinth into which Ofelia wanders, drawn by visions of an intriguingly creepy faun who insists that Ofelia is the lost scion of a royal faery family, and that if she can complete three quests, she may rejoin them in a land unimaginably more pleasant than the one she finds herself in. Del Toro’s imagery is a forceful, almost insistent evocation of familiar tropes, most particularly those of Alice in Wonderland: magical talking creatures, enchanted food that is Not To Be Eaten… But there’s a sticky earthiness to these lands on either side of the faery border: there is mud and blood and all manner of hellish visions made all the more hellish because they are built of the recognizable elements of everyday life. Eyeballs appear in strange places; vegetables dream of being human. This is haunting stuff, and not always in the most pleasant way you want to be haunted by a movie.

Most haunting of all, perhaps, is del Toro’s equivocation. Is Ofelia merely daydreaming, simply creating a diversion for herself in order to psychologically survive the moment? Or is it all really real, the labyrinth and the faun and the giant gloopy frog and the chalk that draws a door into an underworld and the destiny that awaits her on the other side? The question becomes very urgent in the end, when whole new interpretations of “there’s no place like home” become vital if you’re not to find yourself so totally distressed by del Toro’s sinister reverie that you can’t leave it. Truly, this is a fairy tale for today, for this very moment of infinite unease in which escape, should it come, is accompanied by undreamed of horror.

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MPAA: rated R for graphic violence and some language

viewed at a private screening with an audience of critics

official site | IMDb
  • Rykker

    I’ve been waiting for this one, and was quite disappointed that it wasn’t released in my town. May have to wait for the DVD.
    Thanks for the review, MaryAnn!

  • MaryAnn

    The film expanded to more theaters today — you may now be able to find it in your neck of the woods!

  • Amen. Don’t bring a child. Not appropriate. And don’t bring a squeamish adult. Bless their hearts, they probably would not be able to get past their horrified reactions to some of the scenes.
    I happened to catch an interview with del Toro on NPR’s Fresh Air a couple of days ago. I was very moved by his authenticity and his ability to discuss so lucidly his own youth and its affect on his art. Once he spoke of the Captain character in the film, and his decision to see others as less than human in order to be cruel to them and dismiss them as unimportant. And it is the Captain who seems inhuman. Del Toro seemed in this conversation to be equating this character flaw with that of anyone who would buy into a system at the cost of losing the truth of who they are. For instance, he would never do a movie a certain way just for the money and acceptance; he would never be involved in something that was not real to him. I think after hearing him speak so rawly and straight from his heart, I would go see any film he makes.
    I’m not sure why, but I accepted Ophelia’s fairy world as real while watching the movie; and it only occurred to me later when hearing others talk that it could very well have been from her imagination only. Del Toro spoke of preferring his fantasy world to his actual life; but of course he knew the difference. In a fantasy world, the child can be in control, and things make more sense, even the scary ones.
    I agree that this movie is exquisitely haunting and also worth seeing more than once. There’s a lot of fodder for talking over coffee deep into the night here if you can find the right person(s) to watch it with.

  • eigafan

    I’m looking forward to seeing this film this Friday. My local theater (Macon, GA) has finally decided to show it on a single screen. I think they’re reluctant to show films with subtitles. I hope they will show “Letters From Iwo Jima” someday.

  • I finally saw this movie last night. It was everything people said it was, as more. I was completely wowwed, and after it was over, needed a few moments to mull and recover. As my girlfriend and I stumbled out of the theatre in silence, I was processing everything I’d seen, and the ending…

    … and then someone behind us says, “That was pretty graphic. It was like a Mel Gibson movie!”

    And that kind of broke me out of my haze. *chuckle*

  • eigafan

    Caught it this morning. Despite a bad experience with an inept local projectionist the film was quite captivating and I also left the theater in a daze. I forgot to complain to the management at the theater so I visited their website and emailed the local theater and CCed the CEO of the theater chain. I got a nice response back promising two complimentary tickets in the mail this weekend. Now if only they would show “Letters from Iwo Jima” this month.

    I sat through the credits enjoying the music and noticed this in the credits under Insectos – Cheech, Chong, May they rest in peace.

  • MaryAnn, Guillermo is not Mexican-American. He was born and raised in Mexico. There is a difference.

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