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Pan's Labyrinth (2006)
In the eyes of a child, anything is possible. Having had less time to observe the sometimes predictable ways in which the world works, their minds are not yet constrained by the possible. Adults are not so joyously naive and carefree, but they can still relish movies like Pan's Labyrinth, which suggest that fairy tales exist, but are much more grown-up than the versions they were told growing up.
The film is set in Spain in 1944, and devotes most of its screen time to the struggle between a Franco-fascist compound and the rebels in the surrounding woods. Its more fantastical elements make sporadic appearances, and demand the attention of the viewer all the more as a result. This wonderful scarcity puts the viewer in the same mindest as the film's main character, Ofelia (played by 12-year old Ivana Baquero), a young girl unfortunate enough to be born in such a perilous time and place. The audience, like Ofelia, is constantly looking forward to the next magical repreive from the harsh reality staring them in the face.
Make no mistake: this is not a film for children. It more than earns its R-rating with several scenes of extremely brutal, realistic violence. Moviegoers would not be wrong to wonder if they'd accidently stumbled into Saw IV. Viewers in North America will see a subtitled version, further emphasizing the fact that youngsters should steer clear.
Pan's Labyrinth is unceasingly tense, thanks in large part to director Guillermo del Toro's use of sound, particularly when it comes to sharp edges. You can hear the point of every blade, and it's hard not to shudder in anticipation of what they might end up plunging into.
One of the most impressive things about this film, however, is its minimalist use of CGI. del Toro's creations look fantastic in both the light and the dark, but are only used when needed. And, with one slight exception towards the film's end, we're not given any of the generally lifeless, screen-filling CGI vistas that permeate so many of today's movies. A shot inside the womb of Ofelia's mother stands out as a particularly breathtaking, personal use of the technology. del Toro's philosophy on CGI appears to be that it should do only a few things, and it should do them very well.
One of these things is the titular Pan, a faun whose name "only the wind and the trees can pronounce" (how very Narnian). But Mr. Tumnus, he ain't; Pan's deep, rich voice work is phenomenal and conveys an Aslan-esque degree of knowledge and experience that is as likely to inspire fear as it is respect. Suitably, there are twists and turns to both storylines, and more than a few questions when they threaten to converge near the film's conclusion.
Pan's Labyrinth is not an easy film to watch, but it is extremely easy to recommend. It is unique, challenging, and a welcome example of how technology can complement and enhance a story, rather than overwhelm it. It is also a testament to the usefulness and power of the human imagination, and the fact that it remains alive and well, even in grown-ups.
In the eyes of a child, anything is possible. Having had less time to observe the sometimes predictable ways in which the world works, their minds are not yet constrained by the possible. Adults are not so joyously naive and carefree, but they can still relish movies like Pan's Labyrinth, which suggest that fairy tales exist, but are much more grown-up than the versions they were told growing up.
The film is set in Spain in 1944, and devotes most of its screen time to the struggle between a Franco-fascist compound and the rebels in the surrounding woods. Its more fantastical elements make sporadic appearances, and demand the attention of the viewer all the more as a result. This wonderful scarcity puts the viewer in the same mindest as the film's main character, Ofelia (played by 12-year old Ivana Baquero), a young girl unfortunate enough to be born in such a perilous time and place. The audience, like Ofelia, is constantly looking forward to the next magical repreive from the harsh reality staring them in the face.
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Pan's Labyrinth is unceasingly tense, thanks in large part to director Guillermo del Toro's use of sound, particularly when it comes to sharp edges. You can hear the point of every blade, and it's hard not to shudder in anticipation of what they might end up plunging into.
One of the most impressive things about this film, however, is its minimalist use of CGI. del Toro's creations look fantastic in both the light and the dark, but are only used when needed. And, with one slight exception towards the film's end, we're not given any of the generally lifeless, screen-filling CGI vistas that permeate so many of today's movies. A shot inside the womb of Ofelia's mother stands out as a particularly breathtaking, personal use of the technology. del Toro's philosophy on CGI appears to be that it should do only a few things, and it should do them very well.
One of these things is the titular Pan, a faun whose name "only the wind and the trees can pronounce" (how very Narnian). But Mr. Tumnus, he ain't; Pan's deep, rich voice work is phenomenal and conveys an Aslan-esque degree of knowledge and experience that is as likely to inspire fear as it is respect. Suitably, there are twists and turns to both storylines, and more than a few questions when they threaten to converge near the film's conclusion.
Pan's Labyrinth is not an easy film to watch, but it is extremely easy to recommend. It is unique, challenging, and a welcome example of how technology can complement and enhance a story, rather than overwhelm it. It is also a testament to the usefulness and power of the human imagination, and the fact that it remains alive and well, even in grown-ups.