I have no idea how to start this review. Oh, look, I did it. Thank god. It’s hard to know what to say about the mesmeric, unique visual experience that is El Laberinto del Fauno. Trying to describe what makes the film so fascinating is like trying to tell someone about a particularly fantastic dream; you can recount the events but making them sound as fascinating as they were to you is impossible. Luckily, it’s easy to know how to express how much I enjoyed it and whether or not you should see it; it’s absolutely fucking brilliant and yes, yes you should, immediately.
Assuming that The Cheese’s spell has you transfixed or (more likely) your local multiplex is currently closed and you haven’t acted upon my sage advice, you probably want to know why Guillermo del Toro’s sixth film has made me go all quivery with excitement. It’s, um, complicated. When you see it you’ll understand. This film is unlike anything else you’ve seen, and is a colossal achievement for the writer/director, but pigeonholing it is impossible. And no bad thing.
Set in Spain in 1944, in the aftermath of the civil war that saw the country ruled by Franco’s jackboot of fascism, our heroine is 12-year-old Ofelia (Banquero). Arriving at her new home, Ofelia finds in its grounds a Labyrinth, firing her fairy tale-fuelled imagination as she longs to escape the subjugated life she and her mother (Gil) lead with her new stepfather (Lopez), the monstrous Captain Vidal, charged with hunting down the rebels hiding in the woods overlooking the garrison Ofelia now inhabits. That night a fairy leads her deep into the labyrinth to meet a mystical faun (at no point is his actual name mentioned), who tells her she is the long-awaited reincarnation of the Princess of the Underworld, and charges her with three tasks to reclaim her throne. As you do.
The fact that none of these events, or Ofelia’s acceptance of what she learns, seem too fantastical to take seriously is because the Labyrinth has you from the word go. Del Toro has always imbued his films with a healthy sense of the fantastical, and although this is his most grounded effort to date, he succeeds in fascinating throughout. The harsh reality of fascist Spain and the viciousness of Vidal’s methods are intercut with Ofelia’s escapism, the glorious dreams and unsettling nightmares of the latter bathed in a broader spectrum of colours than the muted palette of the former.
What is especially impressive about Pan’s Labyrinth is the way in which it grips your interest, contrary to whatever expectations of the film you might have. You might expect not to care so much about the rebels in the woods, or the birth of Ofelia’s stepbrother. You’ll certainly be surprised that Captain Vidal is a far more cruel a monster than any of the horrific visions made flesh by the underworld. And you will be positively amazed at every individual component that comes together to create a whole so breathtakingly impressive, you’ll be endlessly searching for the words to describe it, for fear that any cinephile might miss out on del Toro’s masterpiece. Pan’s Labyrinth is beautiful, terrifying, spellbinding, brutal and indescribably good. To say any more would be to hamper your individual enjoyment of a film with so much to offer. All I will say is that Pedro Almodovar must be gutted. Volver is a great film, but the Oscar race for Best Foreign Film is already over.