Pan’s Labyrinth
Let me preface this review by saying I drove two hours to Bristol to see Pan’s Labyrinth – the furthest I have ever travelled simply to see a film – since it has inexplicably been given a very limited release. When it didn’t turn up at Plymouth I was aghast, given how critically acclaimed it had been. I hadn’t been this upset about the non-arrival of a film at a local cinema since distributors gave Peter Weir’s 1994 film Fearless similar treatment. Whether driving such a distance (and back) makes me a phenomenally dedicated film buff or merely deeply sad is a question I’d rather was left unanswered.
Anyway, to the matter at hand. Yes, Pan’s Labyrinth is as good as all the critics have been saying. It is a remarkably bizarre, vivid and powerful picture – at once offbeat, dark and grim, yet also phenomenally beautiful and moving. Filled with unforgettable images, it is unquestionably a landmark in fantasy cinema. One would have expected the mixture of gritty realism and fairytale to be awkward, yet bizarrely, it works.
Director Guillermo Del Toro is best known for Hollywood fare such as Blade II and Hellboy, and amongst film buffs for his Spanish language pictures Cronos and The Devil’s Backbone. But Pan’s Labyrinth, another Spanish work, is his best to date. It contains inspiration from many movies including The Wizard of Oz, Brazil, Jean Cocteau’s La Belle a la Bette, the films of Jean-Pierre Jeunet (Delicatessen, The City of Lost Children and particularly A Very Long Engagement), and books including Alice in Wonderland, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe and Phillip Pullman’s His Dark Materials trilogy. Yet it also manages to remarkably unique in its own right.
Set in 1944 Spain, the film picks up as Franco is wiping up the remaining pockets of Communist guerrillas. Ten year old Ofelia travels with her pregnant mother Carmen to meet her new husband, Captain Vidal, at his posting in a forest, where he is tracking the Communists. Upon arrival it becomes apparent that Vidal is a particularly brutal man, an evil stepparent in the classic tradition, and Ofelia takes an immediate dislike to him. A child on the verge of puberty, Ofelia seems at odds with the adult world; unable to understand why her mother was lonely and wanted to remarry, and still obsessed with fairy tales, despite being told she is too old for them.
On her first night in the woods, Ofelia is led by a fairy into a sinister old labyrinth behind the military headquarters, and it is here she meets a mysterious faun who tells her she is a long lost princess of a secret underground world. But in order to return, she has to complete three dangerous tasks.
The story of Ofelia’s quest to complete the three tasks is intercut with Vidal’s increasingly vicious attempts to smoke out the Communist guerrilla’s in the woods, and although these storylines appear unrelated, each subtly parallels the other. The various monstrous creatures that Ofelia encounters are symbolic. For example, in the riveting and terrifying Pale Man sequence, the Pale Man symbolises authoritarianism. The Pale Man offers temptation merely as an excuse to murder, as demonstrated by the hideous pictures on its walls of it killing children and babies. What is read into that – whether it be Franco’s Spain, or any other oppressive authority – is left to the viewer.
One of the things I liked most about the film was its ambiguity. Towards the end it is hinted that Ofelia might be delusional and has retreated into the fantasy world of her beloved fairy tales, because she has seen the brutal reality of the adult world and wants no part of it. But at the same time, it could be that only she can see the faun and the other magical creatures, and that her mysterious underground kingdom really does exist. Which interpretation one subscribes to determines whether or not the ending is happy, sad or bittersweet. Make no mistake; this is a film that will rattle around in your subconscious for a long time afterwards.
Ivana Baquero is radiant as Ofelia, perfectly capturing the melancholy of a pre-pubescent innocent desperately trying to cling onto her childlike innocence amid the intense cruelty and brutality of the worlds around her – both “real” and “fantasy”. As the Captain, Sergi Lopez makes Vidal every bit as monstrous as Ralph Fiennes Amon Goeth in Schindler’s List. His brutality – especially when he explains how he is going to torture his victims before doing so, make him a truly memorable villain. Elsewhere Maribel Verdú, Ariadna Gil, and Álex Angulo provide fine support as the Captain’s housekeeper, Ofelia’s mother, and the local doctor, respectively.
By now, it should be apparent that this is an unrelentingly cruel story, as all good fairy tales should be. From a spiritual perspective however, it is mostly bad news. The film puts forward several Buddhist/New Age notions such as reincarnation, and although the faun is not Pan, he does allude to pagan spirituality in his dialogue by saying he is the earth, the wood, the wind and so forth. The main moral of the story seems to be that you shouldn’t obey authority unquestioningly, which is true to a point, but then from a Christian perspective God does sometimes ask us to do this, for our own good. Elsewhere other peripheral contentious elements, such as mercy killing, make an appearance, adding up to an overall anti-Christian worldview. Thankfully, since this is most emphatically not a children’s film, at least young minds won’t be confused.
Pan’s Labyrinth is probably a film of somewhat limited appeal given that it is only likely to appeal to fantasy obsessives or hardened film buffs. Since I belong in both categories, I can’t help but rave about this film, but if you are not one of the above, please take my review with a pinch of salt. This is certainly not a film for everyone, nor as I have already explained can it be described as spiritually sound. It’s also worth noting that the blood and gore levels are very shocking, and there is some swearing. On that basis, I will conclude by saying Pan’s Labyrinth is indeed a masterpiece, but approach with extreme caution.
Simon Dillon, December 2006.
