Movie Review: Pan’s Labyrinth

I went to see Pan’s Labyrinth at the Lido cinema in Bangkok last week. The Lido is an older movie theater that’s small and comfortable, and usually shows “art” films or foreign films that you’ll never see in the many omniplex cinemas around the city. There are usually only about four or five English-language films (read, American blockbusters) being shown during any week in Bangkok, and they can each occupy three screens per theater, depending on the size of the theater.

Pan’s Labyrinth was written and directed by Mexican-born Guillermo del Toro, who also directed Hellboy, one of my favorite comic-book hero movies (thanks mainly to Ron Perlman, who turned Hellboy into a complex, funny guy).

The story of Pan’s Labyrinth takes place in Spain in 1944. According to the bit of history we get with the opening credits, in 1944 there were still guerilla fighters in the hills of Spain who were trying to defeat Franco’s Fascists. The action begins with a military convoy transporting a pregnant woman, Carmen, and her daughter Ofelia through the forest to an old mill that serves as a military base for soldiers who are hunting down the guerillas in a take-no-prisoners (except to torture them) war. The sadistic captain in charge of the operation is Carmen’s second husband and she is carrying his son. Captain Vidal is an obsessive and controlling perfectionist who wants his son to be born near him, and so he has Carmen brought to the mill. She is clearly not well and Vidal insists that she use a wheelchair at all times, even though she protests that it isn’t necessary.

Ofelia is Carmen’s daughter by her first husband, a tailor who was killed during the war. She is an avid reader of fairytales and is deeply immersed in the story of a princess who ran away from her home in the dark netherworld, seeking blue skies and sunshine. Her father, the king, has vowed to wait forever for her return. Ofelia’s narrative thread plunges us into a world of fantasy that runs parallel throughout the film to the brutal reality of the war being waged between the Fascist soldiers and the resistance fighters.

Ofelia accidentally comes upon an ancient labyrinth near the mill while chasing a locust, which, it turns out, is actually a fairy, sent from the magical world beneath the labyrinth. The fairy leads Ofelia to a faun that, as it turns out, only she can see. In order to find out whether she is the lost princess, the faun gives Ofelia three difficult tasks to perform, and tells her she must complete them successfully before the full moon. If she does, she will be returned to her real parents and live in the magical kingdom forever.

Del Toro skillfully intertwines the quest for the missing princess, the war between the army and the anti-Fascists, and the birth of Carmen’s baby, using a handful of characters that connect to each other in both worlds, each as labyrinthine and terrifying as the other. In the fantasy world that Ofelia must navigate all by herself, she must confront a huge, grotesque toad and a hideous creature that eats children. She will ultimately be forced to make a horrifying choice to determine whether or not she is the lost princess.


Del Toro handles the two stories brilliantly, and won a well-deserved Oscar for best foreign film at the Academy Awards this year. There are many heart-stopping moments in both stories and enough twists and turns (forgive the pun) to keep us guessing to the end. Is Ofelia really the lost princess? Will the baby be born alive? Will Carmen survive the birth? Will the rebel informer who lives and works in the mill be caught? Will the vicious and sadistic Captain Vidal get what he deserves? Maybe. Maybe not. And definitely not in the way we expect.

Despite the fact that the central character, Ofelia (wonderfully portrayed by 11-year-old Ivana Baquero), is a child, and despite the magic realism of the fairytale world she inhabits, this is not a film for children. There are images of brutality and acts of cruelty that stay in the mind; I covered my eyes a few times during the torture scenes and could not watch the Captain stitch up his own slashed face.

As a writer, I attempt to bring together the disparate elements of life through character and story. In the best of all possible worlds, this process is seamless and the reader makes discoveries, not because I’ve said, “Know this,” but because I’ve led him or her in the right direction. In Pan’s Labyrinth, del Toro has sometimes resorted to black-and-white, good-versus-evil storytelling. The characters tend to be representative and one-dimensional, making their actions predictable. But the artistry in this movie lies in bringing together two narratives from two very different worlds. The luxury of exploring multi-dimensional characters would have required more hours than a filmmaker is allowed and would, in all probability, have reduced the tension that makes this such an effective film.

A good film, in my opinion, is both experiential and thought provoking. But if you have too much time to think during the film, chances are the experience will be watered down. Better to be thinking about the film as you exit the theater; and even better if you’re still thinking about it a week later.