So it's with some reluctance that I admit that, despite it's glowing, radioactive reviews, I didn't like Pan's Labyrinth very much at all, and certainly much less than I'd hoped to, considering my affection for the fantastic and tendency to fall in line with the establishment. So what if these parts of the movie bothered me? Obviously nobody else cared. But this isn't an exploration of the meaninglessness of opinion. So, onward.
The film's creatures are quite impressive, but you can see them in the trailers and even here on my blog without actually shelling out the eight or nine dollars for a ticket. There are only about four of them anyway, and they don't come with a magical world either. There's just a dank, dark hole in the ground, a slightly more interesting hole in the wall, and an itty-bitty glimpse of paradise (or at least its throne room) at the end of the film. So, no fully-formed, mythic ecosystem a la Spirited Away.The film does have some pretty grown-up themes. As far as I could tell: something about the world being monstrous (the little girl's stepdad is about a hundred times more frightening than the looker to the left to the left), the value of self-sacrifice, and maybe a little reminder to question authority (this is the Spanish Civil War after all). I'm not really sure that they worked, however. The film's major sacrifice occurs not to make this world, the awful horrible real-world, a better place, rather, it allows escape to another world altogether. The film seems to believe that our monstrous world is not worth the effort we put in to it, but that struggle is necessary to prove that we are not content with its monstrosity. What the film never really considers is that possibility (and, in my mind, probability) that such struggle can itself significantly damage our world, can feed the monster, if you will. The film looks down on the Captain's loyalty to the Nationalist party, but never even begins to question the guerillas' reasoning. Why are they fighting? How will it make their world better? What have they got to show for their missing limbs? For the soldiers they've shot? The film's reluctance to face the ambiguities of struggle does not match up with its insistence that it is a movie for brainily imaginative adults.
My other major quibble has to do with the characters' decision-making capabilities, or their complete lack thereof. At several points, the film reveals, quite explicitly, to both its audience and its characters, that there is a choice: the (purportedly intelligent and resourceful) character in question can either do one thing and face no negative consequences whatsoever, or do another thing and expose him or herself to great peril without any real gain. And, at every point, the character, inexplicably, chooses the second option. Their actions are simply unbelievable. They are crimes against reason! Given perfect information, they do exactly the wrong thing! It's infuriating! And not only infuriating, unnecessary! The filmmaker could have easily clouded up the choice, made one option less obviously bone-headed, or at least concealed its bone-headedness from the character if not the audience. Also, the film is so gruesome and violent as to be unwatchable. For some people this is not a big deal, maybe even a plus, but it's worth keeping in mind. About half of its soundtrack consists of a panicked little girl hyperventilating.
Pan's Labyrinth does wrap up very nicely. Throughout the film's middle I was bored, uncomfortable, annoyed. I had decided that I hated it, but by the time I left the theatre, my feelings were more mixed, even borderline positive. Its conclusion is genuinely affecting, if predictable, emphasizing the film's best qualities without entirely negating its worst.
