‘Pan’s Labyrinth’: A Fantasy for Grown-Ups

I watched “Pan’s Labyrinth” (“El Laberinto del Fauno” in its native Spanish) the night before a Spanish final exam last semester, thinking a Spanish-language film would help me hablar español más mejor. But, since my shaky beginner skills couldn’t handle the added curveball of a Castellano lisp, I ended up reading the subtitles. The resultant experience felt more useful for my beloved English classes than for my Spanish, however, since it gave me an opportunity to revel in the beautiful imagery and not-so-subtle symbolism of this film, which is also an Oscar contender in six categories.

Never lacking in creativity, writer/director Guillermo del Toro combines elements of fairy tales with a harsh narrative set in Civil War-era Spain. Del Toro skews reality, beauty, and monstrosity, allowing normally pretty objects to become eerie and grotesque—but no less enchanting. In this hybrid world, a young girl named Ofelia (Ivana Baquero) encounters fairies disguised as giant stick bugs, a mysterious Faun (Doug Jones), something called the “Pale Man” (Doug Jones)—a child-eating monster with eye-sockets in his hands—and, most terrifying of all, a fascist, sadistic stepfather named Capitán Vidal (Sergi López).

All aspects of production in this adult fable are expertly done, especially the visual and sound effects. Del Toro is one of three Mexican directors with Oscar-nominated films this year (the other two being Alejandro González Iñárritu with “Babel” and Alfonso Cuarón with “Children of Men”). Of the three films, “Pan’s Labyrinth” simultaneously has the most childlike thematic material and the most graphic violence.

Minimalist-influenced music by composer Javier Navarrete, which builds on the theme of a mother’s lullaby, plays during intense visual depictions of gory births and deaths. In interviews, del Toro has attributed some of this familiarity with violence to his upbringing in the still-violent culture of Mexico, and that seems to make sense—only someone who has seen beheadings firsthand can conceive of the film’s imagery.

In “Pan’s Labyrinth” all cinematic elements work together so seamlessly that the actors and the effects eventually merge. The dramatic finesse of the ensemble cast build upon del Toro’s vision, although no one person outshines it.

Through diverse aesthetic orchestration—adulthood and childhood, violence and peace, reality and fantasy—del Toro has achieved the unheard-of: a film that satisfies viewers’ various tastes without compromising artistic vision.

—Staff writer Mollie K. Wright can be reached at mkwright@fas.harvard.edu.