Showing posts with label Pan's Labyrinth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pan's Labyrinth. Show all posts

Friday, June 1, 2012

Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark (2011)

A lonely, maladjusted, and overly imaginative young girl arrives at her new home: A rural estate with a foreboding castle-like design and elaborately creepy gardens. Problems compound, from a distracted parent to supernatural creatures that only feign friendliness, and no adult believes the girl because she is lonely, maladjusted, and overly imaginative. Guillermo del Toro’s “Pan’s Labyrinth”? Yes, and its weak-sister “Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark,” which boasts del Toro as co-writer. So many repetitions abound I wondered if this loose remake of a 1973 TV movie was an abandoned first stab at a “Pan’s” screenplay, farmed out to a new directing/writing team. Bailee Madison (“Just Go With It”) is the girl, and she’s a young queen with a reason to scream: The rat-like trolls here want her teeth, and soul. The moody atmosphere makes up for the déjà vu vibe, but the real wet blanket is our adult leads, a sleep-walking Guy Pearce as dad, and a stiff Katie Holmes as the girlfriend, each acting as if they’d rather be in “Pan’s Labyrinth.” C+

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Pan's Labyrinth (2006)

I can't say enough about "Pan's Labyrinth" ("El Laberinto del fauno") ... it's one of my all-time favorites, and not just because I caught a late-night show in NYC upon its initial release. (Is there a better city in the world to see a film then walk out into the night? Hell, no.)

Written and directed by the brilliant Guillermo del Toro, it follows Ofelia (Ivana Baquero) the child of a dead tailor and a hugely pregnant, horribly ill mother (Ariadna Gil) now married to a sadistic fascist colonel (Sergi Lopez) in the Spanish army circa 1940s. The country still is under mass civil war and disorder; violent death is every where.

Ofelia comes to live with the colonel ("He's not my father") at a house in the middle of the rural woods. Behind this house is an ancient labyrinth. To all adults, it's a simple maze with pretty stone workmanship. To Ofelia, it is the portal to her real birth world, where she is the princess of a God-like king and queen, her parents.

Her only contact, the only way into this heaven, is a mysterious tree-like faun. The faun tells Ofelia she must prove herself worthy to him to regain her throne, under her parents. She must take a key from a fat, disgusting frog, then take that key and enter the dining hall of a demon and open a cabinet to take a knife. Then she must let her new brother (the prince) bleed by the knife.

Del Toro's film is so complex and layered, so rich with strong religious and "Alice in Wonderland" overtones, one can watch the film a dozen time and pick up on new themes, messages and feelings. Indeed, as Spain and likewise Ofelia's new family's house/army base sinks further into savage violence, so does the girl's secret world.

Is the faun becoming a sadist, like the colonel, or is he testing Ofelia's good will, her Christ-like love? The most important question at the end of the film: Did Ofelia imagine her world of fauns, demons, a king and queen? I change my mind every time as the blood-soaked FUBAR ending is wonderfully, eternally debatable. Right now, this instant, I think all is lost, this is a film of doom.

I never waver, though, on how much I love this film -- its look, the intricate plot, the magic, the demon in that dining hall with eyes in his palms and skin melting off his twig body, and the rivers of blood. I love the film's refusal to be sentimental, to paint violence with an uncensored brush that is shocking to watch even after a dozen views. This is an adults-only film in the clothes of a child.

From the very opening scene, del Toro promises a grim but fantastic journey, and he delivers. Baquero gives one of the best child performances I can remember. Lopez is pure fhk'n evil as the depraved colonel hell bent on dying violently, and as the faun and the saggy-skinned monster, Doug Jones should have gotten some type of Oscar. What kind, I can't say. A+

Monday, August 3, 2009

Coraline (2009)

The dark and beautifully weird stop-motion animation "Coraline" is surely due some year-end Oscar love. It's neck and neck with "Up," maybe surpassing it, as my favorite animated film of the year. How much do I love this film? It struck me the same way David Lynch's surreal trips down warped minds get to me, and that is huge.

Based on a story by Neil Gaiman and directed by Henry Selick ("The Nightmare Before Christmas" - an absolute favorite), it follows lonely Coraline (voiced by Dakota Fanning) as she moves into an apartment of a strangely pink pink house with her busy garden magazine writer parents (voiced by Teri Hatcher and John Hodgman). She soon meets a geeky boy next door, an acrobat and two former actresses as her neighbors, but nonetheless feels neglected. Stranger still is the tiny door in her parents' living room that leads to a new world, perfect in every detail, form and action except that everyone has buttons for eyes. (Take that as no soul. Or just buttons for eyes.)

I won't spoil anything more because this is a brilliant film not so much for young children, but the child buried in all adults. It may actually be too scary for young children. The stop-motion animation and visual effects improve upon anything I've seen before, including the classic "Nightmare." The film isn't as much a take off of "Alice in Wonderland" as it is a prelude to "Pan's Labyrinth," where the magical world a child escapes to is far, far worse than the life they want to leave behind. (I say prelude as the book "Coraline" came out in 2002, and "Pan's" original-screenplay film was released in 2006.)

Hatcher is a marvel as the Mother, Other Mother (with the button eyes) and so much more, and who knew Hodgman (he of those IBM/Mac commercials) had such a stellar singing voice? Selick is an ace director, a creator of worlds more frightening, magical and deep than Burton has realized in a long, long time. Or Lynch. This will be on my year end best list. Gaiman is a god of writing. A

Monday, July 20, 2009

The Devil's Backbone (2001)

"The Devil's Backbone" is an earlier film made by Guillermo del Toro, who's fast becoming one of my favorite directors after "Pan's Labyrinth" and the kick-butt "Hellboy" films. In this 2001 release, he tells the story of an orphanage in 1930s Spain, ripped apart by civil war. Children, magic and war -- it's a theme.

The orphanage is stuck in the middle of the carnage, and in the middle of the orphanage is a vertical unexploded bomb -- smashed into the ground years before. The bomb is dormant, and the orphanage itself seems to be barely functioning. Into this world, young Carlos (Fernando Tielve) is dropped. His father is dead, and no mention is made of his mother. He' an average child -- he likes toys, comic books and marbles -- but here, there's little room for childish play. He's bullied by Jaime (Inigo Garces), an older boy, and then visited by a mysterious, creepy-as-hell child ghost that seems to be falling apart.

There's much more in this ghost/war story, but to reveal too much would spoil surprises. What can be said is del Toro captures the horrors of children forced to grow up too soon with vivid detail, especially those who are lost and looking for a parent/guardian. Not as deep or fantastical as "Pan," this film nonetheless has a lot going for it, including the softening of Jaime and the beautifully realized and haunted adults. I don't know where del Toro finds his child actors, but Hollywood should start dipping into his pool.

It's foretold early that these children quickly will become men, and will have to fight and take control of their lives to survive. The darkness visited on these children, and likewise the girl in "Pan," certainly would never be found in an American film. "The Devil's Backbone" is that rare magical combo of heart-breaking and uplifting. The title's meaning is explained in a scene creepy, sad and hilarious. A