
I saw
Pan's Labyrinth today and, oh my. It was complex, and dark, and wonderful, and magical in the dirty, rainy way that the real world is magical. And dark; did I mention dark?
It's "about" so many different things and it works on so many different levels. But what struck me immediately is that it tells a truth (as real fairy tales always do) about childhood that we're very reluctant to admit: children are really all on their own. The adults in their lives, even those who love them, won't/can't/don't help them -- not really. Adults are hostile, or powerless, or deluded, or just not capable of doing any better. They want children to be good, be quiet, be pretty. And even the forces of nature use them more often than they help them. (There is no fairy godmother providing magic carriages in this fairy tale. Pan is as scary and capricious as he is helpful.) And so, children, young, innocent children, just have to do the best that they can and try to cope with all sorts of powers, human powers and forces of nature, even though they lack much of the information that would help them to deal with those powers. Meanwhile, they have to sort of sneak in their "real" lives, their "real" work. It reminds me of
a deep and scary poem by Mary Oliver.
The movie is also clearly "about" what's wrong with patriarchy, what's wrong with the way that men living in the patriarchy wound their sons and how that wound hurts everyone in the vicinity. Guillermo Del Toro says, using some lovely symbolism, that it's "time" for this passing on of the wound to "stop." In fact, once that wounding stops, our entire understanding of time can change, can become much more natural and less regimented. (Which, of course, is what magic requires in order to exist.) And it is, here, a peasant woman who says "No" to the passing on of the wound, who will not allow the wounded father to offer his son up to the love of machismo, war, intolerance, regulation, strict schedules. She says it before the wounded father can even finish his speech about ensuring that his son receives the wound of patriarchy. You believe her.
I also came away thinking how incredibly strong and vital the story structure of "perform three tasks" still is. I can't count the number of times that I've read that story, yet it still works. Three tasks before the moon is full. It works really well, here. Some say that there are really only two plots in the world: a stranger comes to town and someone goes on a journey. And, really, they're the same tale, told from two different perspectives. This movie is about a young girl going on a journey.
I'd read that Pan's Labyrinth could be considered a horror movie, and I admit that I'm not a big fan of horror movies. I didn't find it horrible. The scenes that I couldn't watch (I am a huge believer in closing my eyes; there are things I don't want to take away with me) were the scenes of torture and human cruelty, not the scenes with strange magical creatures. Still, it's not a movie for young children. They've got enough to deal with every day, as this movie reminded me.