Weekly meditations from your humble messenger
Into
the Labyrinth
(Pan's Labyrinth, 2/19/07)
By Nicholas Nicastro
With a steady output of Eragons and Narnias and Harry
Potter installments hitting the multiplexes, you'd think we're living
through the golden age of cinematic fantasy. Unfortunately, those franchises
bear about as much relation to good fantasy as Star Wars or Star
Trek do to complex, adult-oriented science fiction. The techniques
of computer-generated imagery (CGI) literally promise us the universe,
but all we seem to get are the same cast of dragons, trolls, wizards,
and cloaked heroes with pointy weapons. With few exceptions, celluloid
fantasy is a good place to go if you don't want to be surprised
by what you'll see. If there's anything more predictable than the imagination
of your typical ten year old boy, it's the scripts produced by Hollywood
to entertain him.
In Pan's Labyrinth (El
Laberinto del Fauno), Mexican writer-director Guillermo del Toro
at least proffers something different. Set in fascist Spain near the
end of World War II, it's the story of Ofelia (Ivana Baquero), an adolescent
girl who travels with her mother (Ariadna Gil) to the remote command
post of her new stepfather, Captain Vidal (Sergi Lopez). Vidal is an
officer in Franco's army who also happens to be an elegant sociopath.
Obsessed with continuing his paternal line, he looks with contempt on
Ofelia, who is visibly chilled looking at him, too. But the girl (and
the partisans fighting Franco) has allies in the forest. Imaginary friends,
such as a friendly satyr (Doug Jones) ultimately help Ofelia transcend
her plight.
Along with Alfonso Cuarón
(Children of Men) and Alejandro González Iñárritu
(Babel), Del Toro is one of noted Three Amigos of modern Mexican
cinema. His previous efforts (Hellboy, Mimic) have proven his
ability to entertain, but Labyrinth is by far his most compelling
work yet. The fantasy world he creates for Ofelia, with its mossy rot
and rampant bodily secretions, has a definite mordant eerieness, like
William S. Burroughs crossed with David Lynch. Just one of his creatures—a
cadaverous, child-devouring monster with eye-sockets in the palms of
his hands—should be enough to give most fourth-graders nightmares
for weeks.
Labyrinth might even have
been hailed as a classic of the imagination if had been produced a few
decades ago. Unfortunately, audiences are now so jaded by years of eye-popping
Hollywood spectacle it would take something genuinely unique to move
them. In recent years, only the baroque (and CGI-less) anime of Hayao
Miyazaki (Spirited Away, Howl's Moving Castle) has come close
to that standard. As it is, Del Toro's film is a poignant, vivid work,
but offers little truly surprising.
It's best theme, in fact, is the
way the modern predicament often exceeds any horror we can imagine.
Like most thugs with a rank, Captain Vidal is a genuine monster, but
forever plays the white knight in his own fantasies. Arranging her survival
by letting the devil into her bed, Ofelia's mother can't bear to divulge
just how cruel the world can be. Baquero is an enchanting actress, fresh
and appealing, but her Ofelia seems to regard all those storybook wonders
with the sad eyes of an experienced victim. For truly heartless cruelty,
is there any labyrinth deeper than the real world?
©2007 Nicholas Nicastro
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