recent tracks:

Princess Bride (book) and Pan's Labyrinth (movie)

The Princess Bride (by William Goldman) is peculiar in that its author is a more celebrated and practiced screenwriter than novelist. Little character development occurs outside of the characters' witty banter and the events of their lives, plot and general charm take precedence over depth, and the result works as a cinematic page turner and a fantastic story. My one misgiving was the omission of my favorite line from the movie:

Vizzini: Stop that rhyming now. I mean it!
Fezzik: Anybody want a peanut?

Apaprently Goldman had to go to great lengths to get Andre the Giant to play Fezzik in the movie, but it paid off...

Pan's Labyrinth struck me as absolutely brilliant.

I should perhaps note at the outset that I was reminded of Miyazaki throughout,this possible homage to one of my favorites perhaps acting as a partial basis for my love. A look back at the (admittedly somewhat sloppy) final paper I wrote for my Japanese cinema class at Carleton explains precisely the elements of Miyazaki that an excellent New York Times review by A. O. Scott also recognizes (in passing) in Pan's Labyrinth: the interplay of real and imaginary, nature and the supernatural, and the relation of the two to the psyche of a troubled girl.

Moving on to the merits of Labyrinth itself, I must cede to some extent to the aforementioned Scott review (read it!), but also mention some of what struck me specifically. Acting: Scott refers to eleven-year-old Ivana Baquero (as protagonist Ofelia) as "uncannily talented," an apt if understated description of a (dare I repeat) brilliant performance; Sergi Lopez plays Ofelia's stepfather, a fascist Captain in 1944 Spain, as the most fearsome villain I can recall encountering (even having just observed and lauded Forest Whitaker's performance in The Last King of Scotland); Ariadna Gil deserves some mention likewise as a rebel spy in the Captain's household, and Ofelia's confidante and protector. As for the mention of 1944 Spain and fascism, Pan's Labyrinth may not take a nuanced look at the situation, but it takes a long one. Ofelia's forays into the ambiguously real fantasy world are all too brief, and even when wrought with danger are welcome escapes from her stepfather's fierce, disturbing (and graphically violent) dictatorship. The artistry with which both worlds are presented, however, is beyond description. While the sustained shots in Children of Men (which I have since come to think of as "Ozu with action") have unquestionable emotional effects on the viewer, the art direction and cinematography work together in Pan's Labyrinth to achieve something even more visceral without sacrificing aesthetics. The Captain's savagery is offset by beautiful sylvan surroundings, and the fantasy world is not overwrought with sunshine and cheer--the audience is not beaten over the head by its goodness, but in fact is presented with some quite ugly bits there to offset its fairy tale charm. We are permitted to feel Ofelia's tentativeness as she probes this new world and tries to figure out for herself what it's all about, we are encouraged to see the beauty she sees in the real world but also to understand all too well the reasons she wishes to escape it.

In the end, however, Pan's Labyrinth is (in my opinion) far more than its moral (question authority) or any other pithy little breakdowns of its elements--it must be seen to be appreciated. So see it.