"Pan's Labyrinth" | Enter a dark wonderland
Asked by a child if she believes in fairies, a weary-eyed housekeeper (Maribel Verdú) says that she doesn't anymore, but that she did when she was younger. Back then, she says, "I believed in a lot of things I don't believe anymore."
Guillermo del Toro's dark, beautiful and mesmerizing "Pan's Labyrinth," set in 1940s Spain but framed by a fantasy world far less specific, is about fairies and monsters, childhood innocence and adult disillusion, the intricate curlicues of fantasy creatures and the harsh glint in the eye of a villain all too real. At its center is a book-loving child on the brink of adolescence: young enough to believe in fairies, old enough to have begun to fear the dangers of the real world.
Ofelia (Ivana Baquero) lost her father a few years ago in the Spanish Civil War. Now, with the war over but resistance continuing, she moves to a remote military outpost with her fragile mother, Carmen (Ariadna Gil, speaking in the softest of whispers), who has married a military captain (Sergi López, standing chillingly erect). He greets Ofelia with a handshake devoid of warmth; in his black gloves, his large hand snatches her tiny one as if catching it in a trap.
As the captain and his fascist troops viciously dispose of rebels in the region — and as it becomes clear that his only interest in Carmen and Ofelia has to do with the child Carmen will soon bear — Ofelia enters her own world of good and evil. Enticed by a whimsical stick insect ("Are you a fairy?" Ofelia asks it), she descends into a decrepit, mossy labyrinth and is greeted by a horned creature, the faun Pan (Doug Jones). He calls her a princess, and assigns her tasks to prove her worth. In the dim blue light, he gives her a book, on whose blank pages will be written her future.
Ofelia's fairy-tale world (except in a brief late sequence) is no prettier than her real-life surroundings: She's chased by a horrifying, fleshy monster whose eyes are in its hands (also played by Jones); spat at by a giant toad; crawled upon by slimy bugs. As danger closes in on her in the gray-blue underworld, the same happens above ground as her one sense of security — her mother — becomes weaker. Begging her unborn brother not to hurt Carmen, Ofelia touchingly promises to take him to her kingdom and make him a prince, to remove him from the ugliness into which he will be born. Her mother, from her sickbed, urges her not to put her faith in fairy tales, telling her that the world is a cruel place.
But as Ofelia finds refuge in her imagination, so do we in del Toro's: The dark violence of the film (parents, note: "Pan's Labyrinth" is not for children) is leavened by its invention — by the way it pushes the limits of reality and fantasy, each world overlapping with the other. The stick-insect fairy floats, like an inky firefly, above the bed Ofelia shares with Carmen; it's both intruder and guardian. In her own way, Ofelia is at war, taking arms against the evil she has found in the eyes of the captain. Her weapon is not a gun, but a book, a belief and a pure heart. "Create your own door," the faun tells Ofelia, and she does.
Baquero, in a quiet and beautifully controlled performance (we see just one naughty smile, hinting that this girl once knew happier times), creates a memorable heroine, a small warrior determined to find her escape. Del Toro ("The Devil's Backbone," "Hellboy") has crafted a triumph of creativity and storytelling, a film that continues to reveal its intricate layers in multiple viewings. "Pan's Labyrinth," a fairy tale entangled by the darkest of vines, haunts its watchers, the way a bedtime story stays with a child long after the lights have gone out.
Moira Macdonald: 206-464-2725 or mmacdonald@seattletimes.com
"Pan's Labyrinth," with Sergi Lpez, Maribel Verd, Ivana Baquero, Ariadna Gil, Alex Angulo, Doug Jones. Written and directed by Guillermo del Toro. 112 minutes. Rated R for graphic violence and some language. In Spanish with English subtitles. Several theaters.