Pan’s Labyrinth 13 minute review [typing included]
The earnest storytelling style of Guillermo del Toro makes Pan’s Labyrinth a true delight in any language, but through the dim lit corridors of my mind during the first act of this film whirred thoughts amazed by the fact that this movie is not American, the cast is not American, and this language is not English. These thoughts were lonely because after the first 4 minutes of the ride, I had given myself over to the skills of the conductor to see me through to the end.
The set pieces are gorgeous and crafted to the highest standard. One can imagine that this movie was not cheap to make, and I thank my stars that the people who control purse strings of that sort are smart enough to read the fable presented in the simple but masterful script for what it was: A whole lifetime of allegory folded over and over to fit into 120 minutes.
One prone to do so could also imagine sets that spread out, spanning miles and describing a whole world invisible to our eye, but under the direction of del Toro, a cock of the head allows us to come into contact with a sweaty, fetid and dark world beneath our feet, that sometimes leaks into our own.
By the end of the third act, after you have forgotten about the subtitles, that is when the fact that it is not a Hollywood film becomes clear. The ending leaves it up to the viewer to make real whatever ending fits their vision, and does not presume to make a film that willl please everyone, or anyone. You must please yourself with intricate storycraft before this film will settle into your memory as a tale you heard when you were a child, told with loving care of a very strange family friend
