TRAILER: Cinema Release: Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives

Film: Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives

NEWS: Cinema Release: Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives

Suffering from acute kidney failure, Uncle Boonmee has chosen to spend his final days surrounded by his loved ones in the countryside. Surprisingly, the ghost of his deceased wife appears to care for him, and his long lost son returns home in a non‐human form.

Contemplating the reasons for his illness, Boonmee treks through the jungle with his family to a mysterious hilltop cave – the birthplace of his first life.

Film: Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives
Release date: 19th November 2010
Certificate: 12A
Running time: 113 mins
Director: Apichatpong Weerasethakul
Starring: Thanapat Saisaymar, Jenjira Pongpas, Sakda Kaewbuadee, Natthakarn Aphaiwonk, Geerasak Kulhong
Genre: Comedy/Drama/Fantasy
Studio: New Wave
Format: Cinema
Country: Thailand/UK/France/Germany/Spain

REVIEW: DVD Release: The Guillermo Del Toro Collection

Film: The Guillermo Del Toro Collection
Release date: 12th March 2007
Certificate: 18
Running time: 310 mins
Director: Guillermo Del Toro
Starring: Federico Luppi, Ron Perlman, Marisa Paredes, Eduardo Noriega, Ivana Baquero
Genre: Comedy/Drama/Fantasy/Horror/Mystery/Thriller/War
Studio: Optimum
Format: DVD
Country: Mexico/Spain/USA

Guillermo Del Toro is easily one of the most imaginative, original and instantly recognisable directors working today. From his humble beginnings as an independent filmmaker, the Mexican has produced numerous classic films, and in recent years made the move to mainstream Hollywood. Always present in his work is a rich and iconic visual sensibility, relatable and sympathetic monsters and freaks, and frequent references to fairytale, folklore and religion.


Cronos (1994)
When Jesús Gris (Federico Luppi), an elderly antiques dealer, comes into possession of an ancient device in the form of a clockwork beetle, he is unwittingly transformed into a vampire as the device activates and stings him. He becomes more youthful, and far stronger, but develops an overpowering urge to consume blood. He is hunted by a dying millionaire and his nephew (Claudio Brook and Ron Perlman, respectively) for knowledge of the device and its promise of eternal life…

Cronos foreshadows many aspects of Del Toro’s career: it features a clockwork device in the shape of a scarab beetle (both insects and clockwork mechanisms have become instantly recognisable Del Toro visual motifs) and the film also features soon-to become-regular collaborators Federico Luppi and Ron Pearlman (the former would appear in The Devil’s Backbone and Pan’s Labyrinth, the latter in the Hellboy films and Blade II).

The film has some undeniably memorable scenes, including Gris’ first experience of a vampire’s need for blood (he laps it off a bathroom floor) and his resurrection in a morgue moments before cremation. The film does, however, tend to drag a little (especially the lengthy prologue and build up to Gris’ initial transformation) – despite only being 94 minutes, it can seem longer.

While it’s very stylistically striking, and has some iconic scenes, Del Toro’s debut is easily the weakest of his Spanish-language films. Several ideas don’t quite work and the story loses its energy on occassions. However, Cronos is a perfectly respectable first film all the same, and Del Toro was just finding his feet after all. Even here you can find evidence of his future brilliance.

Del Toro’s big screen debut sets the tone for the rest of his career – it’s dark, imaginative and fun. After his career began in TV and short film production, Cronos is certainly a daring and exciting big-screen debut.


The Devil’s Backbone (2001)
Far more than the standard ghost story, The Devil’s Backbone is a very tense and extremely emotional experience. It’s effectively atmospheric and creepy (it’s set in a rundown and isolated orphanage during the Spanish Civil War) and the cast all manage to get across the tragedy and horror of the events that unfold.

When young Carlos (Fernando Tielve) arrives at a remote orphanage in the final stages of the Spanish Civil War, it is immediately apparent that all is not well. There is an unexploded bomb stuck in the ground outside, sinister relationships between the orphanage’s staff and children, and the ghost of a young boy wandering the corridors. What dark secrets will Carlos stumble upon?

You have all the standard scares you’d expect in any horror film, but these are contrasted by tensely drawn out scenes - and the ghost itself, Santi (Junio Valverde), is brilliantly realised, managing to evoke the right mix of fear and sympathy from an audience.

The cast all bring a little something extra to their roles, and this helps them become believable characters, from Carlos’ inherent goodness and need to find the truth to the tragically lonely headmistress Carmen (Marisa Paredes), the kind and deeply philosophical Dr Casares (Federico Luppi), the emotionally unstable and threatening caretaker Jacinto (Eduardo Noriega) and the emotionally repressed bully Jaime (Íñigo Garcés).

“What is a ghost? A tragedy condemned to repeat itself time and again? An instant of pain, perhaps. Something dead which still seems to be alive. An emotion suspended in time. Like a blurred photograph. Like an insect trapped in amber.” This opening question urges us to look past what scares us, and conquer our fears. It fits in with Del Toro’s usual ethos - that his monsters are mostly sympathetic creatures, and should not be taken at face value, as simply ‘evil’.

The Devil’s Backbone is well written, well acted and extremely scary. Del Toro makes use of just enough horror clichés whilst adding his own take on the genre. It further cements his position as an extremely original and rewarding director to take an interest in.


Pan’s Labyrinth (2006)
Pan’s Labyrinth is a masterpiece of fairytale storytelling, effortlessly blending the real world with fantasy. Del Toro returned to his roots after a few years in Hollywood, crafting a believable fable full to the brim with emotion.

Set in fascist Spain in 1944, a young girl, Ofelia (Ivana Baquero), is sent with her pregnant mother to live in the care of her stepfather Vidal (Sergi López), a captain in General Franco’s military who is fighting guerrilla rebels.

Ofelia loves to read and has a vivid imagination, and she frequently escapes the clutches of her brutal stepfather to explore her new surroundings. One such escapade leads to the discovery an ancient labyrinth within which she meets a mysterious faun who promises her eternal life if she completes three tasks for him…

Pan’s Labyrinth is a film of contrasts – we are shown the horrific brutalities of war one moment and truly beautiful fantasies the next. One minute we see guerrilla rebels being brutally tortured by Vidal, the next Ofelia is being guided down ancient corridors by fairies. We see these worlds through the eyes of Ofelia, through the eyes of an imaginative 12-year-old –the distinctions between fantasy and reality are not yet clearly defined. The director can really go to town with his distinct visual flair in this film – everything is beautifully designed, from the labyrinth itself to the ancient faun, the fairies and the horrifying array of creatures Ofelia has to face.

The cast are of the highest calibre. Ivana Baquero makes Ofelia a believable heroine, full of wonder and imagination, and ultimately guided by her need to do the right thing. Sergi López makes Vidal a truly despicable villain and Maribel Verdú plays Mercedes, Vidal’s housekeeper and secretly a mole for the guerrilla rebels with a dignified defiance. We should, of course, not overlook Doug Jones, an often unsung hero of film. Because of his highly physical acting style and slight frame, he more often than not performs under heavy makeup and/or prosthetics. In Pan’s, Jones plays the Faun and the Pale Man (the grotesque, skinny creature who wears his eyes in his hands in the dinner table scene) – he is responsible for the portrayal of both of the most memorable creatures in the film!

Pan’s Labyrinth is not only visually stunning, but can rely on the strengths of every single cast member to make fantasy believable. The plot is emotionally intense, gripping and tragic, and Javier Nevarrete’s haunting yet beautiful score effortlessly carries and reinforces the story. Guillermo Del Toro continues to prove that not only is he a master of visuals, but of character as well.


Guillermo Del Toro’s films have steadily improved over the years. From a daring but unremarkable debut with Cronos to the chilling and far more entertaining The Devil’s Backbone, and then the pinnacle of his creativity, Pan’s Labyrinth. These films are proof that Guillermo Del Toro has demonstrated more imagination, originality and technical ability in two decades than many Hollywood directors demonstrate in their entire careers. SSP

REVIEW: DVD Release: The Guillermo Del Toro Collection

Film: The Guillermo Del Toro Collection
Release date: 12th March 2007
Certificate: 18
Running time: 310 mins
Director: Guillermo Del Toro
Starring: Federico Luppi, Ron Perlman, Marisa Paredes, Eduardo Noriega, Ivana Baquero
Genre: Comedy/Drama/Fantasy/Horror/Mystery/Thriller/War
Studio: Optimum
Format: DVD
Country: Mexico/Spain/USA

Crafting some of horror’s most unusual works, Guillermo Del Toro is first and foremost a horror fan, not prepared to simply get the job done – and boy, does it show. His works over the years have included the underrated Mimic, Blade 2 and both Hellboy and its sequel. This collection, released for the first time on Blu-ray, showcases his talent for producing poignant chills with his first feature Cronos, The Devil’s Backbone and the much-celebrated Pan’s Labyrinth.


Cronos (1993)
Jesus Gris (Federico Luppi) is an elderly antiques dealer who happens upon an ancient mechanical device, shaped like a beetle, once belonging to a 16th century alchemist.

Housing an immortal parasite, which offers him the chance of eternal life, Gris readily agrees, at first not overly concerned about an extreme aversion to daylight and an agonising thirst for human blood – the pros far weighing out the cons as he grows ever more youthful with every sip.

That is until he yearns for the vital fluid of his innocent granddaughter…

With its plentiful supply of body horror and insects guaranteed to leave us insecure at the very least, Cronos is a neat vampire riff that’s imaginative, witty and right on the money.

If clamping the ancient device on Luppi’s chest doesn’t make you look away, or if beetles escaping from one of the holes in the statue fail to send a chill down your spine, the trashy image of Jesus licking blood from a white-tiled toilet floor will certainly affect you.

Federico Luppi and Ron Perlman are superb as the warring relations, with spot-on dialogue that requires little padding to move the story on at a satisfying pace. The special effects and locations still fascinate, and the gothic soundtrack compliments the former splendidly.

Dark, and in places extremely stylish, Del Toro’s first outing at the tender age of 29 is perhaps let down by a script that never really hits full throttle – yet its deliciously entertaining and frightfully scary nonetheless; certainly worth getting your teeth into.


The Devil’s Backbone (2001)
Set during the final days of the Civil War, the young inhabitants of a Spanish orphanage are brutally terrorised by Santi, a decaying spirit who stalks the building’s dark, decaying hallways.

Carlos, a 10-year-old boy, and son of a fallen Republican hero, is badgered incessantly by the child-like ghost upon his arrival. Having to contend with a violent caretaker, a bully, and an un-exploded bomb that dominates the orphanage’s courtyard, still ticking away, Santi latching onto him is all too much.

The only way to rid himself of the spirit is to delve into the past and learn the true story of the child’s death, in turn revealing the real source of danger and interpreting the ghost’s gloomy prediction that “many of you will die”…

More than just a simple ghost story, The Devil’s Backbone somehow manages to pull its diverse sub-plots together in such an explicable and beautifully realised way that come the final third, you’ll be deeply moved and will completely forget about how terrifying the journey actually was.

It may build slowly, but the tense murder-mystery elements that keep you guessing until the very end, tinged with unspeakable brutality and fantastic performances from its cast of mainly children, will barely leave you time to breathe.

It’s because of the excellent performances that we do find enough empathy, even for the tormenting ghost Santi, and also why Del Toro doesn’t need to try too hard to scare us. Children are more likely to open doors they shouldn’t, after all. That’s not to say the chills are lazy, even if the finer moments take place in the basement - and when Carlos is hiding in the closet.

Atmospheric visuals and subtle special effects are enhanced by an eerie soundtrack punctured by mysterious noises that really add to the tension, but it’s the emotional finale that will really send a lump down the throat – an underrated horror classic.


Pan’s Labyrinth (2006)
A companion piece to the Devil’s Backbone, Pan’s Labyrinth follows Ofelia, a young girl uprooted to a remote military outpost commanded by her new stepfather, a sadistic general in Franco’s army during the harsh realities of the Civil War.

Powerless and lonely, Ofelia discovers a neglected labyrinth behind the family home. Meeting Pan, a fantastical creature who challenges her with three tasks, which he claims will reveal her true identity as a princess, she lives out her own dark fable, confronting monsters both otherworldly and human, hoping to finally meet her real father, the King…

Without doubt, a fairytale for grown-ups, Pan’s Labyrinth steals cheekily from all those before it – whether it be Sergi Lopez playing the big bad wolf in the shape of Ofelia’s stepfather, the housekeeper’s fairy godmother, the movie’s haunted forests and rural setting, or its nods to other classics such as The Lion, The Witch And The Wardrobe and The Wizard Of Oz.

Only, there are more than just devilish sprites, cheeky fauns and twisted witches on offer here. In fact, the real terror comes from the real world rather than that of Ofelia’s imagination – a place so violent and bleak it’s no wonder she so gratefully accepts the three challenges in order to prove her royal status.

The true monster is the sadistic general as he tries to stamp out the left-wing using whatever means necessary, revelling in scenes that are extremely difficult to watch as Del Toro charts the evil that men can do with look-away precision.

The scene stealer, however, is pure fantasy. One of the greatest ever horror scenes occurs when Ofelia is confronted by the Pale Man, a hideous monster with no eyes catching his beauty sleep until she awakens him by foolishly stealing some of his food. Timing is everything here. Even though the viewer knows it’s coming, they don't know when. Yet, even then, as the creature finally jerks into life, reaching for his eyes before inserting them into the palms of his hands, they still won’t be prepared for the nerve-shredding chase through the corridors that follows.

Del Toro refuses, once again, to go overboard with CGI, and the horror is more terrifying for it. Dark, delightful, bleak and beautiful, all at the same time, Pan’s Labyrinth manages to merge the horrors of real life into the fantastical world of imagination, leaving Ofelia, and the viewer, with no preferable place to hide.


Crafting some of horror’s most imaginative and terrifying works, Guillermo Del Toro manages to combine fantasy and supernatural dread with political commentary in a way nobody else can. A fantastic collection – one that truly delivers the goods. DW

REVIEW: Blu-ray Only Release: Guillermo Del Toro

Film: Guillermo Del Toro
Release date: 25th October 2010
Certificate: 18
Running time: 313 mins
Director: Guillermo Del Toro
Starring: Federico Luppi, Ron Perlman, Marisa Paredes, Eduardo Noriega, Ivana Baquero
Genre: Comedy/Drama/Fantasy/Horror/Mystery/Thriller/War
Studio: Optimum
Format: Blu-ray
Country: Mexico/Spain/USA

Covering the three most critically acclaimed of his works, this Guillermo Del Toro box set takes us from his directorial debut in the 20th century, through to his most recent pieces of the 21st. Each film carries and emphasises the hallmarks of what has made Del Toro one of the most popular, and followed directors of the modern era, with his self-confessed fetish for all things peculiar, haunting, mysterious and a painstaking attention to detail.

Cronos (1993)
Jesús, an elderly antique dealer living in Mexico with his granddaughter, Aurora, stumbles across a discovery in the base of a newly delivered statue: a golden scarab-shaped device. While attempting to uncover the secrets and history to this unknown item, it unfurls legs, to fully mimic a beetle, and without warning attaches itself to Jesús.

When the Cronos device eventually releases itself, Jesús finds that his health has improved drastically, he feels vigorous and full of vitality. With extended research, he identifies and dates the contraption back to a 16th century alchemist, who claimed it could gift immortality to anyone that used it. Unfortunately for Jesús and his family, the device’s existence is not exclusive to them - a band of American criminals are in search of it for their employer and dying businessman, Dieter de la Guardia.

Led by his violent nephew, Angel, the two factions come to loggerheads as they demand its possession and will stoop to any means to obtain it. However, this is the least of Jesús’ worries, as he slowly begins to discover that the cost for the eternal life is an extreme aversion to sunlight and a more disturbing need for human blood…

Del Toro’s debut is a startling affair that positions itself firmly in the horror genre, yet does so with great warmth and affection. Less associated with slashers and more with the psychological torment of films like The Shining, Cronos doesn’t offer formulaic scares, but proves to be frightening as a deeply unsettling study and deconstruction of our own humanity and mortality.

What is truly the emotional coup de grâce, and proves to be the cornerstone of its very success, is Del Toro’s focus on the human side of the story. Del Toro is equally as concerned by how the Cronos device is affecting Jesús, as he is with how this affect on Jesús is damaging his relationship with his granddaughter, whom he loves dearly. The director manages to show the young child as not someone who is naïve to the circumstances around her, but as a young woman who is very aware of the happenings in her life, yet still remains deeply loyal and devoted to her grandfather.

Cronos is a disconcerting experience, which harbours the very essence of what makes a horror film successful, yet, at its heart, remains an identifiable human tale; a gripping drama about a loving family in turmoil that once it has grabbed hold of you proves very difficult to shake off.


The Devil’s Backbone (2001)
Written while he was in college, Guillermo Del Toro’s The Devil’s Backbone is a dark gothic thriller set amidst the backdrop of the last days of the bloody Spanish Civil War.

Carlos, a young boy, is left at an orphanage on the outskirts of a remote village, awaiting the return of his Republican father from the conflict. Run by two elderly administrators and a couple of additional assistants who initially befriend Carlos, his life there begins to suffer, as not only does he find himself bullied by the other boys but by a malicious spectre that haunts the buildings decaying hallways.

As Carlos slowly awakens to the possibility that he may be a permanent resident, the orphans slowly come together, sharing resources and discussing the nature of this ghost, which many have either heard of or seen. It is concluded the apparition is that of a boy named Santi, who used to live at the orphanage before disappearing on the same night a bomb dropped in the forecourt.

The boys must work out who they can trust and find out the mysteries to the ghost of Santi and the undetonated bomb, which resonates as a constant reminder to the violent war that surrounds them...

Cited as Del Toro’s most personal work, The Devil’s Backbone builds on the themes and styles that garnered him such a reputation. The director skilfully weaves together the moments of dread, with an appreciation for suspense, and dramatic tension that would have impressed Hitchcock. He alerts the audience to the idea that something is amiss, and that something disturbing may be about to happen, but drip feeds the dread into our subconscious, proving to be a clinically arresting experience.

Del Toro makes expert use of his decrepit sets, taking the boys into dark alcoves, narrow corridors, enclosed rooms and skin-crawling situations but, as with Cronos, tempers the consternation with a great sadness. He reveals the trials and tribulations of the orphanage through the eyes of a young boy who is experiencing these events with little understanding of why.

As with Cronos, Del Toro’s true flair doesn’t come from lavish cinematographic landscapes, but from a simple, affecting and ultimately gut-wrenching emotional pull that is the human aspect of his creations.

Yes, The Devil’s Backbone is the chilling tale of a horror mystery, but alternatively it is an upsetting portrayal of a child, and childhood, amidst the atrocities and fallout of war.


Pan’s Labyrinth (2006)
Once again, written and directed by Guillermo Del Toro, Pan’s Labyrinth is the spiritual companion piece to The Devil’s Backbone.

Set five years after the Spanish Civil War, a young girl named Ofelia and her pregnant mother arrive at the encampment of their military stepfather and husband, respectively.

Captain Vidal is a fascist charged with the eradication of Spanish Marquis guerrillas that are scattered through the area, and has little time for either Ofelia nor her mother, merely concerning himself with the imminent birth of his son who would become his heir apparent.

Ofelia’s pregnant mother, Carmen, is severely ill with her condition worsening, and with Ofelia feeling trapped and scared that she may be left alone with her stepfather, she delves deeper into her reading of fantasy stories to escape the harsh realities around her. Then, one evening, a fairy visits her and guides her to a labyrinth behind the house in which they are all staying. At the heart of this labyrinth is a faun who challenges her to complete three tasks, which if completed before the night of the full moon will result in her true identity being revealed...

An event, which had taken years to achieve, and had Del Toro carrying around a notebook which was filled with “doodles, ideas, drawings and plot bits,” Pan’s Labyrinth is widely regarded as the director’s magnum opus. Filled with fantastical imagery influenced by everything from Alice In Wonderland to the art of Francisco Goya, Pan’s Labyrinth is in itself a complex serpentine trail of symbolism that tackles the grim realities of war, while balancing that with fairytale creativity and a serious contemplation on religious death and rebirth.

Del Toro’s imagination is at its most poignant and powerful in Pan’s Labyrinth, with scenes and constructs that live long in the memory. Yet despite these whimsical and engaging distractions, the director once again focuses on the plight of the individual.

As the film progresses into darker more disturbing territory, the fantasy begins to give way to the harsh realities of the world in which Ofelia has to inhabit, and it is her reluctance to become a part of that world and her fear of such an existence that is the crux which binds all the elements together.

On repeated viewings there is an immense array of iconography and parabolic information that can be dissected, yet it is the emotional attachment, the sympathy and empathy, we develop with Ofelia that moves us, and, as always, Del Toro does so in such a subtle and masterful way.


An impressive array of cinema for which the Del Toro undertook the writing, directing and production for all three - perhaps giving us the most accurate and insightful look into his creative thought process, which, like many of his films, is deeply personal. For those wishing to delve further into the mind of one of Mexico’s finest, a little nod to the etymology of the names he chooses for his characters will not only heighten the experience but make you respect his absolute dedication to his works even more. BL

REVIEW: DVD Release: The City Of Lost Children

Film: The City Of Lost Children
Release date: 30th April 2007
Certificate: 15
Running time: 108 mins
Director: Jean-Pierre Jeunet & Marc Caro
Starring: Ron Perlman, Dominique Pinon, Jean-Claude Dreyfus, Daniel Emilfork, Judith Vittet
Genre: Adventure/Comedy/Drama/Fantasy/Sci-Fi
Studio: Optimum
Format: DVD
Country: France/Germany/Spain

Jean-Pierre Jeunet and Marc Caro are names well known among lovers of foreign art cinema, and this fame is justified by the prestige and quality their films boast. Together, they created the beautifully bleak Delicatessen in 1991, which told the tale of a post-apocalyptic world of beastly butchers and underground groups with vigour. Their next film after Delicatessan was La Cite Des Enfants Perdu, known as The City Of Lost Children in English, which was released in 1995, and entered into that year’s Cannes Film Festival.

Like the more recent Hollywood blockbuster Inception, The City Of Lost Children is a story about dreams, and, as with Inception, the story is sometimes confusing yet always intriguing. Krank (Daniel Emilfork), an artificially-created mad scientist resembling a live-action version of Mr. Burns, has found himself aging far too quickly, and realises this is because he does not have the ability to dream. To remedy this, he captures children from a nearby dystopian city to extract their dreams, even if, at the moment, he can only extract their nightmares.

One of these children is the younger brother of a slow-witted circus strongman called One (Ron Perlman in his first major film role). After failing to save his sibling from being seized by the Cyclops’, One finds a group of young orphans who steal for a pair of Siamese twins known as The Octopus (Genevieve Brunet and Odile Malet). One befriends one of these children, a girl named Miette (Judith Vittet), and they work together to find One’s little brother, while trying to evade the Octopus and Krank’s aids…


While the film itself may not be appropriate for children, the story may at first seem like the type of thing one would expect from a children’s movie. The childlikeness of the story works in the film’s favour, as the contrast between this and the more disturbing elements, like the misshapen machinery and devilish cults, help the film achieve a fantastical quality appropriate for a story revolving around dreams. That contrast is superbly highlighted in the film’s opening scene, where a festive scene of a child meeting Santa comes undone when more Santas arrive - these more devious and wicked, as the screen distorts and warps.

What also helps the film’s dreamlike quality is its visual motifs, creating a world that is surreal yet believable. The majority of the scenes are bathed in a diseased yellow, filling the scenes with a sick light that still allows for plenty of shadows. The titular city is a grisly metropolis filled with filthy, twisted buildings and framed by a sea of slime, and Krank’s quarters are a grim mixture of an old submarine and the typical mad scientist laboratory. A lot of imagination has gone into the creation of this film, and the visuals show it.

Sadly, however, at times, it feels like too much imagination has been used, which leads to ridiculous scenes like One and Miette being tied up in a cartoonish amount of rope, and how a single tear from Miette’s eye sets off a chain reaction that ends up saving her from a brainwashed One. Most of the time, the lack of realism works for the film and its theme, but scenes like these tend to distract from the story rather than add to it. At least the special effects used to create them look good, save for some false-looking fleas.

Of special note is the film’s soundtrack, created by constant David Lynch collaborator Angelo Badalamenti. The score of the film perfectly accentuates what is happening on screen, especially the haunting tones it produces during the story’s more solemn, emotional moments. There is also effective use made of the lack of music in some scenes as well - a scene with the Octopus is accompanied by only the ticking of a clock to sinister effect. The theme song of the film, sung by Marianne Faithfull, is also a beautifully performed, yet melancholy piece - a perfect summary of the story.

It is not just the sets and music that make The City Of Lost Children come alive, for what would this hellish city be without its hellish citizens? Ron Perlman is generally serviceable as One, but still less than impressive. The character he is portraying may not be all that intelligent, but scenes like his tantrum at losing his little brother, and the obligatory loud ‘No!’ he screams after believing Miette to be dead make it hard to take him seriously. Judith Vittet, however, is perfectly cast as One’s aid, bringing the role a good amount of cynicism and seriousness, yet with some compassion as well. Daniel Emilfork crafts the greatest performance as Krank, bringing a truly cruel and vicious villain, yet also creating some sympathy for the character in the vein of Edward Scissorhands. The children of the film are effective and never annoying - both actresses playing the Octopus complement each other and bring an air of stern villainy, and Krank’s assistants – his ‘brothers’, a female dwarf and a living brain – are fine accompaniments for the villain.


The City Of Lost Children may not be for everyone; those seeking realism and a plot that is simple to follow may not enjoy it. Some elements of the film may be ridiculous, but it is, on the whole, a well-made film with fine acting and set design, which is beautiful because it is so ugly. GB

REVIEW: DVD Release: Tears For Sale

Film: Tears For Sale
Release date: 20th September 2010
Certificate: 18
Running time: 86 mins
Director: Uros Stajanovic
Starring: Katarina Radivojevic, Sonja Kolacaric, Stefan Kapicic, Nenad Jezdic, Olivera Katarina
Genre: Comedy/Fantasy/Romance
Studio: Icon
Format: DVD
Country: Serbia

Uros Stojanovic’s film is set just after the First World War. Almost a quarter of Serbia’s population died in WW1, a largely unsung tragedy of epic proportions. Strange then that such a warm and funny film should be borne out of such horror.

In the 1920s, the fallout from the First World War has decimated rural Serbia, and the tiny village of Pokrp is particularly in trouble. All the men have long since left to fight for their country only to die on the battlefield. All but one - a broken down, bed-ridden senior citizen.

When two inexperienced sisters (beautifully portrayed by Katarina Radivojevic and Sonja Kolacaric), desperate to find out what it's like to experience a man's love, accidentally kill off the only man in the village, the other women condemn them to death.

Desperate for any chance of a reprieve, the sisters offer to travel into the outside world and find a replacement for the deceased geriatric, and end up with two possibilities, both travelling conmen - a strongman (Nenad Jezdic) and a smooth-talking Casanova type (Stefan Kapicic). They can only bring one man back, though, so one of the sisters will have to sacrifice her new beloved, but which one?


A huge hit in its domestic market, this film could easily be read as one long meandering allegory for the state of the country's national psyche, zeitgeist and influences. Thankfully, though, where other directors might have gone for a downbeat art house feel in an attempt to lend the potentially disturbing subject matter a measure of gravitas, Stojanovic goes in the opposite direction. He evokes an inappropriate feeling of magical delight in the world he creates

Right from the opening, Tears for Sale displays a rich, vibrant (albeit computer-enhanced) palette that recalls Terry Gilliam, Gilliamesque, Jeunet and Caro, and a sense of theatrical grandeur that is tied together with a marvellous ‘rough around the edges’ visual energy - the special effects are less than perfect, and while many are absolutely stunning, quite a few hit their mark a lot closer to low-budget made for television fare.

The village isn’t just dying and fading away due to the lack of men, but because the last soldier left their vineyard filled with mines, and forgot to leave a map or instructions for anyone. The neighbourhood witch is a prototypical cackling sorceress - complete with skull headdress - who forces the spirit of the sisters' grandmother into ensuring a dreadful punishment should they fail to fulfil their bargain. The aforementioned strongman, shot from a cannon, literally soars through the clouds. The dead rise to haunt the living. However, it’s not just these scenes that lift us into the realm of fairytales. Even the set dressing is a riot of jumbled curiosities - as if Jim Henson decorated a TGI Fridays. It's a delightful mash-up of genres and influences in which the starting points are obvious enough, but where the background to the story affords the film an identity that is very much its own.

It may be worth mentioning that this cut of Tears For Sale is very short, maybe 80 minutes with the credits (although even the credits are gorgeous enough to merit watching). Also, at times, the plot skims through key scenes in a way that can sometimes seem a little alienating, even for those prepared to invest in the films artistic approach. Mind you, while the story may not gel into an obviously coherent whole, the meanings and subtexts are still conveyed clearly and inventively enough. This film is clearly much more than a Mardi Gras parade of striking imagery, and the acting is top notch, with the main performers produce some brilliantly nuanced performances.

The film is deliberately earthy, extrovert and entertaining. As a result, some of the symbolism is arguably a little too obvious, but even in the most over the top set pieces, there's always the feeling that there is a mine of painful subtext trapped beneath the surface of whatever's going on. Watching the women of the village fight over men, or dance with the ghosts of those who left, can be hilariously melodramatic, but also surprisingly heartbreaking.

All in all, though, the film remains a success; a witty, intelligent, and thankfully adult fantasy in a world that's beautifully realised, and where sex and death are thrown in for much more than gratuitous effect. While evoking occasional memories of great movies like Amelie or Pans Labyrinth, it's miles from perfect. But it's compelling, fulfilling stuff and a welcome contribution from a film industry that's very often overlooked. This is a nation's historical pain reincarnated as a raw, heartfelt, and irreverent piece of entertainment.


Tears For Sale is a beautiful and funny fairytale. This is a film where questions about why or how are forbidden. A film where logic is the enemy of enjoyment. Don’t question the plot twists - just sit back and let the magic carry you away. It's a love story - a bold, brash, shamelessly theatrical, heart tugging, tragic romance, and, as such, it's a hugely entertaining watch. PD

REVIEW: DVD Release: The Bird People In China

Film: The Bird People In China
Release date: 3rd October 2005
Certificate: 15
Running time: 118 mins
Director: Takashi Miike
Starring: Masahiro Motoki, Renji Ishibashi, Mako, Li Li Wang, Tomohiko Okuda
Genre: Adventure/Comedy/Drama/Fantasy
Studio: Siren
Format: DVD
Country: Japan

A change of tact for one of the most outlandish film makers Japan has to offer, who has become infamous to western audiences for extreme horror and crime shockers such as Audition and Ichi The Killer.

The story takes us along a journey with Mr Wada (Masahiro Motoki), our businessman, sent as a late replacement for a sick colleague on a trip to the mountains of China in search of a very rich vein of the precious jewel, Jade. Along for the ride is Mr Ujiie (Renji Ishibashi), a Yakuza gangster, whose boss has sent him to verify the jewel claim, their interest laying in the unpaid debts by Mr Wada's firm. Both are sold on the idea by their respective employers, on the promise of authentic Chinese cuisine.

From their first, unspoken meeting on a train, to their shared, diabolical van ride (wherein the passenger door falls off), it is clear that the gangster is unhappy to be on the trip. Their guide, Mr Shen (Mako), takes the entire trip in his stride, having made the journey countless times and seeing little to be concerned with, despite the impending storms and torrential rain.

As the three continue via converted tractor vans, rickety bridges and turtle powered rafts; they finally reach their destination and begin to swiftly form a bond with the villagers…


Takashi Miike has taken the opportunity with this feature to delve into the lighter side of Asian cinema (a little off the beaten track from his usual psychopath and sociopathic characters). If you are a fan or even a vague viewer of Japanese cinema, you won't have failed to catch a glimpse of this director’s aforementioned more recent films. The Bird People Of China, however, is the breakthrough 1998 film that made Miikes' progression possible.

The title of the film gives the impression that you might be entering a world of fantasy, and, in a way, that’s an accurate assumption. Wada and Ujiie are stranded, following their guide’s bout of amnesia, and, as such, are free to explore and live the lifestyles of the villagers. While enjoying this new found existence, they witness the children of the bird school breaking in their new ‘wings’, and discover the upright, tail end of a WWII aeroplane nose planted in a lake.

Mr Wada meets the teacher of the Bird School, Miss Si-chang (Li Li Wang), and spares little time in finding reason to be curious about her and the school, documenting her singing via a tape recorder. The men decide to query the little hamlet and investigate what keeps the inhabitants where they are, but also why they may be willing to give it all up so freely.

The cinematography tells the story as much as the script, not hard given the picturesque and startlingly colourful landscape - mountains that touch the clouds and valleys that travel for hundreds of miles litter this feature. Possibly the most endearing and entertaining image throughout the film is found when Mr Wada, holding a pink umbrella, comes across Mr Ujiie (not the best of friends, given a swift beating earlier in the film) mid bowel movement, and he is ordered to keep the rain off his head while he finishes.

Music and song are provided in the form of village woodwind instruments and the stylings of actress Li Li Wang, which further deepen the viewer’s isolation within this environment.

The underlining subject of seclusion and technological alienation is played out throughout the film, with little shown of the big bad world there yonder. It's the struggle between accepting your place in the world and carving a new path that tortures our characters most, trapped in an existence they aren’t fully understanding of, they find their new lives free of expectation and judgement.

The Bird People In China is a detailed and thoughtful film that crosses a wide variety of genres with real ease. Its stylized/iconic shots detract from any other world and fully immerse the viewer in a land of escape and idealism.

Performances from the two leads are deft, subtle and warming throughout – and it's hard not to appreciate a film with lines such as, “This is Yun Nan and my butt is sore. Now behind a thin wall a Yakuza is taking a shower. I must sleep with him in the same room.”


Takashi Miike, despite his obvious talents, provides only what is needed to a script which is laden with suggestion and clear joy. Reigning in his penchant for violence, he shows another facet to his filmmaking abilities, and perhaps delivers a career high. DWI

REVIEW: DVD Release: Pan’s Labyrinth

Film: Pan's Labyrinth
Release date: 21st May 2007
Certificate: 15
Running time: 119 mins
Director: Guillermo del Toro
Starring: Ivana Baquero, Ariadna Gil, Sergi López, Maribel Verdú, Doug Jones
Genre: Fantasy/Drama/Thriller
Studio: Optimum
Format: DVD
Country: Spain/Mexico

Pan’s Labyrinth, is often dubbed by del Toro the natural sequel to The Devil’s Backbone, his film of 2001. The focus is on the same historical period only five years later, when the results of Franco’s ascent to power are in effect.

Set in 1944 in Franco’s new Spanish State, Pan’s Labyrinth is the story of 11-year-old Ofelia (Baquero). With her father dead, she and her heavily pregnant mother Carmen are moving to the rural military camp where her new step father Captain Vidal has been sent. Vidal is there with his men - their purpose: to obliterate the resistance residing in the hills above the Mill.

Ofelia meets a faun in the labyrinth who charges her with three tasks to prove that she is the princess in the story he has told her of. As the tasks progress, Ofelia’s fantasy world - like her reality - becomes more and more brutal. One it would appear is directly proportional to the other, as events unfold and things spiral out of control…


Del Toro visually colours two worlds in sharp juxtaposition. The world of Ofelia’s reality is full of blue and grey hues; the light seems as if the sky is always overcast. The interior is full of stark cold colouring, illustrative of the lack of warmth within its walls. The contrast is seen in Ofelia’s fantasy world. The richness of the colour which surrounds her in each of her tasks is a massive change from her reality. In the second task, the sumptuous surroundings of The Pale Man’s dwelling, the sinew red of the walls, the multicoloured feast, and the lustrous hue which emanates from the fireplace emphasises the fairytale quality of this fantasy world.

Del Toro also utilises darkness to great effect. He draws upon a child’s fear of the as the faun appears from the blackness at the end of Ofelia’s room, unheard and previously unseen. It emphasises the Greek mythology he has drawn upon where fauns are untrustworthy (reiterated by the words of Mercedes the housekeeper). The fairytale is more evocative of the Brothers Grimm than Disney, with task two drawing heavily on their Hansel & Gretel.

The camera direction is understated, and is often interspersed between wide shots and close ups, with occasional cut-ins when Ofelia refers to her book. So much occurs throughout the film, the simplicity of the shots allows the audience to witness the scale of the action without the distraction of constantly changing perspective.

The cinematography is striking. One particularly poignant scene shows Ofelia and her ill mother lying on a bed, with Ofelia telling her unborn brother a story to soothe him. The camera frames Ofelia’s head resting on her mother’s stomach and moves down seemingly showing the foetus. Around it swirl the images of the story. Such focus on the visual impact of storytelling is at the fore early in the film, allowing it to be subsequently revisited throughout.

Many of the plaudits for the film have been for the visuals it employs. Although these are absolutely mesmerising, and often breathtaking, the film is more than just the sum of its effects. The collective cast performance is exceptionally strong. Baquero as Ofelia is outstanding. The 11-year-old delivers a performance that fully embraces her character’s fractured maturity. She is balanced on a knife edge between the child she wishes to remain - clutching her story books, trying to regress into the innocence of previous years - and the adult she is being forced to become due to her circumstances. Lopez, as the sadistic, deeply unpleasant Vidal, is also wonderfully pitched. The extent of his sociopathic tendencies is glimpsed at with small moments, well-judged by both himself and del Toro. A special mention must be given to del Toro favourite Doug Jones. Playing the faun and The Pale Man, his movement and ability is still exceptional even under makeup. His work on dialect and accent may have been futile, as he was dubbed, but his performance produced the memorable moments in the film.

The sound in the film is primarily diegetic, creating immediacy between the audience and the characters. The audience hears Vidal’s razor as it glides along his face, even the creak of his gloves. The most haunting element of the soundtrack was Mercedes humming a lullaby, the words to which she had long forgotten. The film opens with this non-diegetic sound and utilises it throughout, it works very effectively, emphasising the dreamlike ethereal beauty much of the film has.

Pan’s Labyrinth shows the mindscape of an isolated child, her mother is physically taken from her, her father dead and her new step-father is a brutally savage man who sees her as an inconvenience; wanting only the son he believes resides in her mother’s stomach. The fantasy world which she creates becomes a place of refuge where she convinces herself she is someone else. Del Toro’s film shows the aching sadness of a child who has found herself alone and seemingly unwanted against the backdrop of visceral violence which encroaches upon her life.


Pan’s Labyrinth is a cinematic gem which should be appreciated for its distinctive visual quality and del Toro’s undeniable skill as a storyteller, mixing violence, visceral realism, fantasy and isolation to create a poignant story of what it is to believe. DHA

REVIEW: DVD Release: Wings Of Desire

Film: Wings Of Desire
Release date: 28th July 2008
Certificate: 12
Running time: 122 mins
Director: Wim Wenders
Starring: Bruno Ganz, Peter Falk, Solveig Dommartin, Curt Bois, Otto Sander
Genre: Fantasy/Drama/Romance
Studio: Axiom
Format: DVD
Country: West Germany

Wim Wenders’ decision to shoot from an unusual viewpoint, perhaps inspired by Rilke’s meditations on death and immortality, gave birth to a film whose central characters are uniquely placed to examine the human soul and the nature of existence and spirituality.

It takes a certain bravery to create a film with an angel as its main protagonist, to avoid straying into the territory of whimsy. The film’s opening aerial shot is a nod to Capra, as an angel stands on top of a church tower, wings unfurled, as harp music plays and children look up in wonder. But the lives of the citizens of Berlin whom the angels protect are not wonderful. The thoughts of the people, audible to the angels, dwell on miscommunication, death, isolation.

A conversation between the two main characters, Damiel and Cassiel, reveals that the angels are there to bear witness to the spiritual life of humanity. This often takes the form of small, delicately observed incidents – a boy telling his schoolteacher how a fern grows, a station guard on a sudden fancy calling out “Tierra del Fuego” instead of the station name. The angels stand by those in need and provide invisible yet tangible comfort. Only children can see the angels – the film’s recurrent litany of Peter Handke’s poem Lied vom Kindsein (Song Of Childhood) speaks of the importance of dreams and questioning in childhood (“als das Kind Kind war” - when the child was a child), and the openness of children to the existence of things beyond the material world.

The central character, Damiel, speaks of his desire to experience being a part of the world, rather than merely an observer, and know simple pleasures, such as coming home at the end of a long day and feeding the cat, like Philip Marlowe. When he strays into a circus showground and encounters Marion, the trapeze artist, despairing that the circus has to close and that her dreams may now be at an end, his distress at being an observer, separate from the suffering of humanity, increases.

The film goes on to explore the consequence of Damiel’s desire to be mortal; as well as the human desire to cease living, and the nature of despair, of consolation and the will to persevere and to love…


As a foil to the main storyline featuring Damiel and Marion, the character of Cassiel has a number of scenes with an elderly writer, whose thoughts turn on the nature of writing and the warlike tendency of human nature. He describes the German people as being divided into as many states as there are individuals, each state only accessible with the right passwords. The writer is frail and haunted by memories of the city before the war, but he feels a compulsion to try to write an epic of peace, to counteract all the preceding works that have celebrated warriors and kings. There are recurring images of war – bombers cutting across clouds, buildings in flame, bodies heaped at the side of a road – and an extract of the writer’s work merges straight into a film set, peopled by actors playing Nazi soldiers and refugees. The themes of violence and separation are most obviously symbolised by the forbidding presence of the Berlin Wall – a reproduction constructed for the film, as filming by the Wall itself was not allowed.

Berlin becomes a character itself in the film. Wim Wenders has said that he chose Berlin as it is a place of fantasy, even after the Wall came down, because for years afterwards people still couldn’t quite believe that it had been destroyed. He has said that many scenes came out of the locations, and that he wanted to make the places come alive. This process contributes to the impression of an independent reality to the city outside the scope of the camera lens - that the angels wander the city at random and encounter scenes which somehow reflect the essence of that particular locality.

The music in the film alternates between classical – romantic, stirring and melancholy – and bleak post-punk, which suitably reflects the harsh politics of the time and place. Nick Cave’s songs of death and isolation sit comfortably with the film’s themes, as he sings of eternity and of the carny, whose departure no-one witnesses. The passion of the classical pieces harks back to Germany’s strong romantic tradition in poetry and music, and aptly expresses the yearning of the characters for understanding, meaning and love. In contrast to this, the performances are nicely understated, where any hint of melodrama could have pushed the film’s premise into the realms of the ridiculous.

The angels’ lack of dialogue in scenes with people requires Bruno Ganz and Otto Sander to convey much merely by expression. Bruno Ganz manages to express sympathy, humour and pathos in the leading role, with a childish wonder in some scenes, which is a pleasing contrast to the world weariness of many of the characters. Solveig Dommartin’s trapeze artist fluctuates from sad-eyed despondency to childlike mystification at the world, and how she should exist within it. At the same time, there is an ambiguity in the performances which reflects the uncertainty of the themes explored by the film – we can read an expression of despair or distress but, unlike the angels, not the thought processes behind them. Thought itself, the film seems to suggest, is only an approximate expression of human consciousness.


A melancholy and poetic masterpiece, whose haunting images, powerful music and ambiguous meditation on the nature of existence linger in the memory long after watching. KR

TRAILER: Cinema Release: Bluebeard

Film: Bluebeard

SPECIAL FEATURE: DVD Review: Dreams

Film: Dreams
Release date: 18th March 2003

Certificate: PG

Running time: 119 mins

Director: Akira Kurosawa

Starring: Akira Terao, Mitsuko Baisho, Toshie Negishi, Mieko Harada, Mitsunori Isaki

Genre: Fantasy/Drama

Studio: Warner

Format: DVD

Country: Japan

This title has yet to receive a Region 2/UK release.

Pioneering the craft of motion picture, not merely in his native Japan but the world over, films such a Seven Samurai and Roshimon have had an indelible influence on generations of directors. For all this, however, it astonishes the general lack of attention Dreams has been afforded among the canon of Kurosawa's many notable masterpieces.

Dreams, as the title would suggest, is a compilation of eight vignettes inspired by dreams the writer/director recorded and accumulated over several years of his life. Some profoundly philosophical and others of a vividly visceral nature, both allow Kurosawa to indulge his unparalleled skill for dialogue and visual craft.

It is difficult not to understate the profundity of Akira Kurosawa's effect on the art of modern filmmaking. Recognised by scholars and enthusiasts of cinema, were it not for Kurosawa's body of work that left no facet of the cinematic form untouched film would not exist as it does today…


In a segment entitled ‘Crows’, a nameless character (Akira Terao) is featured encountering Vincent Van Gogh (played by director Martin Scorsese in the one scene in the film shot in English) after stepping into a hung Van Gogh being displayed in the stark white of a gallery hall. The painter’s Wheat Field With Crows is translated to screen in no less impressionistic a style than Van Gogh’s own brushstrokes. Meeting Van Gogh among the tall stalks of an expanse of golden fields, the nameless character (seen in the director’s token white sun cap) is berated by the artist who admonishes him for wasting time in a field with old men when there is so much to create, an obsession Van Gogh exclaims he cannot resist feeding.

This particular segment seems very much a personal statement on the part of Kurosawa, if gifted to him in a dream. Scorsese is among several widely recognised purveyors of cinema that have openly praised and attributed their own vision to the late Japanese filmmaker. Kurosawa in turn had credited Van Gogh as a principal influence on his vision as a director and the luscious colours with which the director animates the still painting could not make for a finer tribute. Likewise the coincidence of a sort of Scorsese’s portrayal gives the exchange a self-referential poeticism: the student (Scorsese) playing the master (Van Gogh) instructing the mentor (Kurosawa) on his obligation to his own artistry in a scene written and directed by Kurosawa.

In the films concluding piece, entitled ‘Village Of The Watermills’, another nameless traveller, again played by Terao (a recurring feature in the film, and in many other of Kirosawa’s work), happens upon the elderly operator of a rural Japanese watermill (Chishu Ryu). Set against the stillness of the brook over which the mill stands, and the measured turn of its wheel, the scene becomes at once a solemn meditation on the inevitability of death, and a deeply comforting appreciation and resignation towards the no less inevitable continuation of life. The scene serves as both a literal and figurative Buddhist lesson on the expanse of existence made perhaps the more poignant and wistful by Kurisawa’s passing earlier in 2010.

In compilation, as it is, the piece of pastiche offers as a whole a wide rendering of Kirosawa's prowess. Each vignette reflects the rich tapestry of Kirosawa's synaesthetic, some grand and mesmerizing in their visual allure, and others containing a profound minimalism and philosophical stillness. As the film represents to a large extent the culmination of a life spent behind the camera, it is a fitting introduction to the genius of its director to those unfamiliar with Kurosawa’s work and a timeless epitaph that should bring disciples of cinema to tears.


A film truly exemplifies the director’s pronouncement that “man is a genius when he dreams.” ABM

REVIEW: DVD Release: Pan’s Labyrinth

Film: Pan's Labyrinth
Release date: 21st May 2007

Certificate: 15

Running time: 119 mins

Director: Guillermo del Toro

Starring: Ivana Baquero, Ariadna Gil, Sergi López, Maribel Verdú, Doug Jones

Genre: Fantasy/Drama/Thriller

Studio: Optimum

Format: DVD

Country: Spain/Mexico

Fantasy, horror and historical drama may sound like an unlikely mix, but in Mexican director Guillermo del Toro’s award-winning 2006 labour of love they are intertwined to enchanting and, at times, harrowing effect.

Set in Spain in 1944, five years after the end of the Spanish Civil War, Pan’s Labyrinth revolves around the experiences of Ofelia, an imaginative young girl who is battling to come terms with the death of her father. Along with her mother, Ofelia sets out to begin a new life at a remote military outpost headed by Captain Vidal, her cruel and violent stepfather who is tasked with wiping out a group of resistance fighters who continue to hold out against Franco’s rule.

Ofelia soon discovers an abandoned labyrinth close to her new home, an event that feeds her imagination, and allows her to escape into a fantasy world inhabited by fairies and a creaky old faun who claims that she is the long lost princess of an underground realm. The faun sets her three tasks to complete, each of which will require increasing courage and strength of will, in order to return to her rightful place alongside her father in his magical kingdom.

As Ofelia is drawn deeper into this surreal, at times nightmarish fantasy world, the distinctions between the harsh realities that surround her and her fairytale existence become ever more blurred. Troubled by the poor condition of her mother, who is ill and heavily pregnant with Vidal’s first child, the faun tells Ofelia to place a mandrake root in a bowl of milk under her mother’s bed and place two drops of her blood in the bowl every day. Miraculously, the concoction seems to make her mother better, but events soon conspire against Ofelia.

With the rebels closing in, and the Captain becoming more and more brutally unhinged, Ofelia has to choose between her fantasy life and a perilous reality that demands quick, decisive action. In a crucial twist, however, it is the very links to her fantasy world that enable her to confront the realities she had sought to escape…


Del Toro alludes to a complex web of literary, cinematic and artistic sources in celebrating the power of the imagination and resistance to tyranny. It’s undoubtedly an adult film, but one that draws on a childlike sense of wonder and curiosity.

Pan’s Labyrinth is beautiful to watch in parts, and Del Toro revels in contrasting the warm tones of the rural landscapes during the day against the colder deep blues of night. The arresting beauty of these contrasts makes the scenes of graphic, sadistic violence all the more unsettling. There is also a disturbing edge to some of the fantasy sequences, as though the horrors of the real world are bleeding into Ofelia’s imagination.

In one particularly memorable scene, a pale, menacing creature with eyeballs in the palms of its hands savagely devours two fairies. Del Toro has acknowledged his debt to Spanish artist Goya, and this scene is like a twisted fairytale take on Goya’s painting Saturn Devouring His Son, pitched somewhere between Alice In Wonderland and Hellraiser. Elsewhere in the film, scenes of violence and torture recall elements of Goya’s Disasters Of War, a series of prints that throw the horrors of war into stark relief.

Del Toro’s eye for visual detail is clearly one of the film’s main strengths, but the performances by Ivana Baquero as Ofelia and Sergi Lopez as Captain Vidal are no less vital to the success of Pan’s Labyrinth. Baquero is instantly likeable as the strong-willed yet sensitive Ofelia, whereas Lopez makes you shiver and recoil the moment you first set eyes on him. Watching them on screen together is a bit like watching the Big Bad Wolf stalking Little Red Riding Hood, only in Pan’s Labyrinth Del Toro’s screenplay gives Baquero the room to develop into a less naive, more resourceful character.


Echoing postwar Spanish history, Pan’s Labyrinth shows that out of tragedy and brutality, hope and justice may ultimately prevail. That may sound a bit too much like a fairy tale, but it’s one that Del Toro laces with darkness and despair. JG