Film Review--Pan's Labyrinth (2006)

There was no good reason that I never saw Pan’s Labyrinth until now. I loved Cronos and The Devil’s Backbone especially. While not everything he’s done has been much to write home about, Guillermo del Toro cracked me up in his discussions of Blade II and how badly it came out. The dark fantasy vision of The Devil’s Backbone was right up my alley and, though years have passed since I’ve seen it, images from the film are burned into my memory. It should have been a given for me to see Pan’s Labyrinth on its opening weekend but I never did and, finally a year after its release, I finally sat down to watch it. It’s a film that reminds me why it’s so important to see movies in the theater. Not for the company, but for the immersion; a facet of film that cannot be replicated at home. Though I missed the full experience of Pan’s Labyrinth, I absolutely loved the film and, as Erik described in his post on the best films of ’06, is a perfect use of fantasy in film.

Fantasy and horror as political allegory is nothing new and is the best use of the genres but, generally, the films suffer from the obscurity of the allegory amongst the violence and effects and, strong and smart as the film may be, the projects fail with most audiences. Not so with Pan’s Labyrinth, which juxtaposes the brutal realism of Franco’s Spain directly with equally brutal fairy tales. The combination feels, as much as anything, like a living, breathing Goya painting. In order to escape the sadism of her stepfather Captain Vidal, and her situation in general, Ofelia (played convincingly by Ivana Baquero) descends into a world of fairies, but quickly sees that her fantasy world contains no less brutality than her real world. Given a mission by the faun she meets, however, Ofelia has direction. With a reason to fight and a reason to sacrifice, even if the end result is obscured in questions, she can soldier on through faceless child-killers and giant toads. Back on the surface, back in reality, we find the same kind of determination and sacrifice in the small, already defeated freedom fighters. They know how impossible their struggle has become but, in spite of this, they continue the fight if for no other reason than to make things as difficult as possible for Franco’s regime. Ofelia’s mother sternly tells her that fairy tales aren’t real, that the world is harsh and cruel and she must grow out of them. This is essentially the same thing that the doctor tells the freedom fighters. He pleads with their leader that, if he really loves his family, he will take them out of this impossible fight and leave. He can’t do this, no matter how much he loves them for the same reason that Ofelia can’t leave behind the fairy tales: they have seen the truth and they believe in what they’ve seen, no matter how unlikely the outcome may be. The loving hearts of these characters overcomes the brutality of their respective situations, and the relation between the two that del Toro makes is fantastically resonant.

All politics aside, though, the construction of Pan’s Labyrinth is amazing. The plot moves swiftly and leaves no time to lag. The switch back and forth between reality and fantasy is a little jarring at first, but the parallel stories work best right next to each other. I had hoped for a more extended fantasy section, as those portions are closer to my own esthetic, but I’m glad I didn’t get it. Any further extension on either side would have taken away the balance that del Toro has so brilliantly found, and it works to near perfection. The cinematography from Guillermo Navarro (who has worked with del Toro since Cronos and has greatly helped films from Cabeza de Vaca to Spy Kids to Jackie Brown) is amazing; fully realizing del Toro’s vision in the bleakness of the reality and the lush foreboding of the fantasy. A striking color palate, the fantasy world is full of bright reds and oranges and streaked with blue-grey shadows. In contrast, reality is shown in those same blue-greys but, especially in fires and in blood, the red and orange streaks are overpoweringly bright, almost painted on. Javier Navarrete’s score, based off of a hummed lullaby, is beautiful in its simplicity. Without hearing the music separately, the theme is varied with three or four different instrumentations, each of which displays a different emotion, from hope to pain to death. One is uplifting and the next threatens to rip your heart from your chest. Aside from this and The Devil’s Backbone, I have heard none of his work and his credits are thin, but I’d like to hear much more from him.

More important than any of this, and the likely reason that it was so much more universally loved than other like-minded pictures, is the performances. Generally, in films of this nature, acting comes last and is often abysmal. Often, as a horror fan, I have to completely eschew performances to enjoy what the genre has to offer. It’s a problem that I can forgive, but many can’t. A lot of genre films carry this same baggage, regardless of their other qualities. Here, the performances are all superb. Most notably, as I said above, Ivana Baquero does a very good job with as Ofelia. With all the action revolving around her, she holds up her end of the bargain with a believably understated performance. I usually have big problems with child actors, who often have a wide-eyed stare of constant “surprise” and speak exactly as they are being coached, so they wind up sounding uncharacteristically adult. Her reactions and, often, non-reactions to the horrific events around her seem exactly in line with the character whose spirit has lived for many centuries. Also of note is Sergi Lopez, whose work from Between Your Legs to With a Friend Like Harry to Dirty Pretty Things has always impressed me, in the antagonist role as Vidal. He’s better here than I’ve ever seen him, and I don’t know how long it will take me to no longer look at the actor as the brutal, sadistic, but icy cold captain who would rather punch someone’s nose off with a wine bottle (an absolutely chilling scene, by the way) than ask them questions.

A year and universal acclaim later, it’s trite to say that I recommend the film, but Pan’s Labyrinth is a fantastic picture that left me hungry for more. I am more than confident that it will stand up to repeat viewings, and there’s little better that I can say about a film of this nature. Del Toro will continue putting out horror and sci-fi fluff; given his history, these are clearly the things he loves. That he can pay the bills with Mimic and Blade II and make smashing artistic statements with Pan’s Labyrinth and The Devil’s Backbone shows an impressive filmmaker who understands what he’s doing and, especially, loves every minute of it.