Pan's Labyrinth: Fantasy for the Rest of Us

This review was published originally on cinekklesia on January 25, 2007.

As has been discussed before on this Web site, both science fiction and fantasy face an uphill battle when it comes to winning adherents, especially from the ranks of audience members who prefer their movies rooted in a more recognizable material reality. In fact, sci-fi/fantasy films have to go beyond the merely decent in order to earn some credibility; while other genres don't have to achieve much in order to pass as watchable—most of us are willing, at least on occasion, to view a comedy or drama that we know is mediocre—sci-fi/fantasy has no such luxury. If it's not solidly good—or even great—then it simply becomes relegated to the category of camp.

Guillermo del Toro's Pan's Labyrinth—a.k.a.,El Laberinto del Fauno—(2006) is one such film that stands solidly on its own legs. It is not a great film "despite" its genre, or "even though" it is a fantasy; rather, it is simply a wonderful work of art, period. Pan's Labyrinth follows the story of Ofelia (Ivana Baquero), a pre-teen girl living in 1940's fascist Spain. Her widowed mother, Carmen (Ariadna Gil), recently married a captain in the fascist army (Sergi López), and the beginning of the movie shows them moving to his rural post, where he is fighting rebel forces in the hills.

Alongside the material hardship of war and political repression, Ofelia encounters Pan (Doug Jones), who, as the title indicates, lives in an ancient, decrepit stone labyrinth behind the Captain's headquarters. Ofelia learns that she is, in fact, the reincarnation of a princess and that she must complete three tasks in order to reclaim her royal heritage. Since she already has a predilection for fantasy, others do not believe her when she tries to explain the parallel reality that is taking place right under their noses. No matter: Ofelia's commission from—and interactions with—Pan make up a reality that is intended for her alone.

Of course, one of the arguments made in favor of sci-fi/fantasy is the flexibility of the genre. The ability to bend or break the material allows one to explore alternative social, political, and scientific realities within a safe environment. Pan's Labyrinth takes advantage of this flexibility — to a limit.

Essentially, the movie is structured as a dichotomous examination of power. Captain Vidal merely exemplifies the political system to which he gives total allegiance. He is a stickler for order and punctuality, desires to rid his country of rebels (thereby creating a "clean" Spain), and exhibits a cold, militant brutality that no doubt has helped him to rise within the ranks. (Please keep in mind that Pan's Labyrinth is a violent and bloody film; some scenes are not meant for the squeamish.)

Ofelia, on the other hand, is a relatively powerless character, who is derided for her supposed obsession with the fantastic — an obsession that has continued after most kids would have given up the genre. She is not interested in punctuality or the "greater good" of the nation or in getting to know her thuggish step-father. Rather, she has chosen to be mindful of a parallel reality and the tasks that await her therein. While she may be a reincarnated princess, she gives no indication that she is interested in the power that such a role entails. Unlike the Captain, her reality is not dictated by order and control but rather, by imagination, play, and friendship. Ironically, while Ofelia demonstrates some of the most positive attributes of civilized living, the Captain—"defender" of Spanish Civilization—is nothing short of a barbaric animal.

One of my primary reasons for wanting to see Pan's Labyrinth in the first place was the outpouring of praise it has been receiving from both critics and audience members — it has been nominated for six Academy Awards, including Best Original Screenplay and Best Foreign Language Film, and at last count, it is listed at No. 86 on IMDb's Top 250.

Why the acclaim? After all, I feel safe in hypothesizing that with rare exceptions (e.g., the Lord of the Rings trilogy), fantasy movies do not make many audience members' "best of" lists. I'm going to venture that Pan's Labyrinth's success is due, in part, to its lack of fantasy. Most of the movie is actually historical drama, and the characters' experiences are completely plausible; if we cannot relate to them on a personal level (since we don't live in 1940's Spain), we at least can read about similar experiences in historical documents. Pan's Labyrinth's fantastic elements do not overwhelm, but rather, supplement the "real-world" plot, providing the "safe environment" in which experimental perspectives (e.g., an alternate view of power relationships) can be explored. In addition, Pan's Labyrinth doesn't get caught up in the minute details of its alternate world; thus, it avoids the stereotypical characterization of sci-fi/fantasy as a genre more interested in meaningless minutiae, rather than overarching themes and Big Ideas.

As such, I hope that Pan's Labyrinth does well at the Oscars. Success at such a high-profile venue may encourage others to create fantasy that is both accessible to—and enjoyable for—a general audience. More broadly, it is simply an excellent film that deserves recognition.