The Caffeine Diaries
And we're kicking off the first movie in the Pidge Watches 100 Movies in 2008 and Talks About Them to the Interest of No One Series. Also known as, Whee, the Public Library Systems in Central Ohio are Fun!
I intended to start my 100 movies with Citizen Kane, which I have remarkably never seen more than ten minutes of (for a delicious Architecture and Film class from my undergrad days), and which I recorded on one of the movie channels and have had sitting on my hard drive for approximately six weeks. It seemed like a good Movie #1, being both a movie I should really have seen by now, and also, like, the grandfather of all modern cinema. However, while at the library the other day to pick up my reserved copy of "Atonement," so I can read it before I see the movie (if I bother to see it in theaters, which I may not, because Keira Knightley often rubs me the wrong way, and I don't want to be trapped in a public place watching the movie if she gets on my nerves), I wandered into the DVD section to see if there was anything good on the shelves of the teeny-tiny branch of my library. (And there was! They have the last season of "Doctor Who," which I have yet to see, and didn't get at the moment, because I'll need a good block of time to watch it, which I am lacking at the moment, thanks to my obsessive designing of my wedding invitation and accompanying freak-out over finding a printer.) I spotted Pan's Labyrinth, which both Teo and I had wanted to see and snatched it up, thereby effectively shuffling Citizen Kane down the list to a point when I magically have two hours of time to sit in front of my computer and get lost in all of the Rosebud. (Having never seen the movie, I still know what that is.)
So I picked up Pan's Labyrinth and brought it home, and last night Teo was randomly in the mood to watch a movie, which almost never happens, so we busted it out. After some subtitle-related shenanigans (which we'd also experienced while trying to watch Volver a few months ago, so that'll be soon on the list), Teo figured out how to get it to play correctly and we settled in.
Full (spoilery) thoughts below the cut:
El Laberinto del fauno (2006)
I loved this. I don't know if what I have to say will be different than anything that I've read about it, because it was all so dead on and I barely have enough originality in my system today to work on logos for my boss, let alone talk about how freaking brilliant this movie was. I'd heard "grown-up fairy tale" bandied about so much, in reference to both this and Perfume (I'm...pretty sure, it's been awhile since I'd read about either of these movies, though, so I could be off) that I wasn't sure what to expect, though I knew there'd be an element of the fantastic. I sat down to watch this knowing the following things: 1) gorgeous, 2) dark, 3) set after the Spanish civil war. Other than that, I had no idea what to expect.
Gorgeous, indeed. I find it hard to fully appreciate the visuals in a foreign-language movie on the first watching, since I am so invested in reading to follow the story. I'd need to rewatch in order to really observe the use of color, palette changes, line and form, etc, but from my half-attentive viewing, the visuals were stunning. The muted palette throughout much of the movie was as oppressive as a separate character. The moonlit scenes were beautiful and haunting, and the connection between Ofelia and the moon was highlighted by her clear and brave depiction in the moonlight. The unexpected and grotesque shapes of beings in the movie, from the fairies to the faun to the pale man, even the Captain's slashed face, were note-perfect.
Dark, indeed. While I delight in shiny Disney-esque fairy tales, my tastes have always run towards the more macabre and wicked tellings, even though I am historically someone who cannot abide violence (it just sticks with me too much). Even though I danced in "The Nutcracker" for three years, I delight in informing people that in the original story, Clara (Marie) is found lying in a pool of blood, having broken glass-fronted cabinet downstairs while trying to fetch her beloved Nutcracker after she should have been in bed. There is no blood in the modern ballet, which is a right shame. I find movies with a darker side much more escapist. El Laberinto del fauno certainly delivers. More on that in the discussion of other themes.
However, the single most brilliant aspect of the movie had to have been the setting. Not only did the events in post-war Spain provide a harsh balance to the magical aspects of the story, they in fact drove the necessity for those elements. As the real world got bleaker, Ofelia was spurned deeper into the thought of escape. Knowing that her mother was likely to be destroyed by her new stepfather, whether during the birth of her brother, or soon after, Ofelia clung to her new identity and promised to take with her the only thing in this world that she was still connected to. The worse things were around her, though she was not exposed to some of the brutality of her stepfather or much of the conflict with the rebels, the deeper this drive to escape to her "true" world got. The setting also informed the characters, in that the Captain could really only have existed as such a monster in that time, Mercedes was driven to acts of bravery (and stupidity, come on that key is going to be traced back to you) by the desperation of the situation, etc. I am not familiar enough with Spanish history to really embrace any symbolism inherent in the movie relating to those themes, but I wouldn't be surprised at all to learn that the Pale Man and his feast are significant in some historical context.
The extremity of the setting also really added to the ambiguity of the fairy-tale aspect, which was kind of my favorite part. At no point in the movie are you really sure how much of the fantasy you're supposed to buy into. Ofelia's misery at being trapped with her new stepfather and her dying mother are so great, that it could be psychological escapism. The fact that the Captain does not see the faun inside the labyrinth, and no one hears the faun speaking to Ofelia inside her room, even though she's under watch, lends credence to that theory. However, the mandrake root as a gift from the faun (though she possibly could have found it outside) was the only element of the fantasy world that appeared in the real world that was noticed by other people, which damages the theory slightly. Though Ofelia carried the book with her in the house, no one commented, and though the chalk doors were show when the Captain ran into her room, it could have been just part of her fantasy game. The ambiguity makes the ending even darker, which I love. Was the Princess returning to her rightful place in her kingdom? Or were we simply privy to the final escapist thoughts of a dying girl's mind? I love that we're not sure.
The aspect that really surprised me was the brutality of the film (versus the somewhat tame fantasy violence, fairy-head-eating aside), which I was not as much expecting. My usual reaction to severe on-screen violence or impending gore is to hide my eyes and only peek over the tops of my fingertips, so I can gauge what's going on without exposing myself to too much of the imagery that tends to burn itself in my mind. This is somewhat complicated in a foreign-language film, where people are still talking and the bottom of the screen is hidden due to my utter cowardice and now I have no real idea what's happening. I liked how the brutality primarily centered around the cruelty of the Captain, making him more of a monster than even the Pale Man. In a fantasy movie, one generally expects the real-world characters to be either cruel or boring, but not necessarily in such a brutal and violent way. I was surprised at how much of the violence was actually shielded from Ofelia, as it would be useful to drive the story more, to paint her new stepfather as even more dangerous and terrible than she knew him to be. Because the brutality only informed the audience of character, it played a bigger part in the atmosphere of the movie, rather than the plot.
I thought the treatment of women in the movie was interesting and would love to rewatch to focus on that aspect. Being unfamiliar with the social status of women in Spain at that time period, I couldn't tell if it should have a general atmosphere of "silly, inconsequential women" or if it was just another example of how the Captain was foolish and cruel. His refusal to have a daughter, his concern for his wife's well-being only as a vessel for his son, his blind reliance on Mercedes and subsequent ignorance of how she was betraying him (until he got clonked with a mighty anvil in the shape of an pristine padlock), his disregard for his new stepdaughter's safety, this could all just be speaking to his character, or it could be a reflection of the political climate.
While I really liked the movie, it was not without its flaws. I thought the importance of the sedative and the chopping knife were far more telegraphed than necessary. If they had focused on each one once, it would have been sufficient, but to focus on them twice is giving away too much in an otherwise subtle story. While I appreciated that Ofelia acted like a child at the Pale Man's feast, stealing grapes and waving away the positively screaming fairies, I thought it implausible. She reads fairy tales regularly, surely the sort of stories where a detail such as that often has bigger implications. She was warned by both the faun and the book not to eat from the table, and yet she did. I also thought it was unnecessarily sloppy to have Mercedes hand over a copy of the key, or at least for the rebels to leave the unforced lock behind. The Captain was so suspicious all of the time, he didn't need such a solid reason to distrust Mercedes, so it felt like a betrayal of her character and sort of lazy plotting. I didn't see why she wouldn't kill him when she had the chance, even though he'd be replaced, it would still give her a little more time to get away. I didn't like how the Captain also only suspected Doctor Ferriero had given over medicine when he compared the two vials side-by-side. That also seemed too convenient to me, since both Teo and I turned to each other and were like "wouldn't...all medicine look the same anyway?" Like, it's not a prescription. It's akin to the Captain finding a bottle of Aleve in the woods and then later being all "hey, the doctor used Aleve on my wife. REBEL!" It took me out of the story and seemed weak to me.
Finally, I wasn't crazy about how little we knew about Ofelia when the movie was over. It might be just that her charcter wasn't as well developed as the Captain, but the fact that we knew SO MUCH about him as a person (fixation on image, control, issues with women, brutality) and learned very little about Ofelia as a person, it felt unbalanced. So much of her motive seemed to be reaction to her environment, as opposed to an extension of the developed person that she is, that she felt lacking as a character. Of course, she's a child and the person that she is was still forming throughout this movie, so it's not entirely wrong that we don't know her as well, but I thought we could have gotten more of "this is who she is, this is what is important to her" other than "she likes fairy tales, she misses her real father, she loves her mother."
Overall, though, for the many, many reasons I mentioned above, I really liked Pan's Labyrinth. It was such a rich movie, with so much going on, I didn't expect to write as much about it as I did. I probably will not review the other 99 movies in such detail, don't fret.
I intended to start my 100 movies with Citizen Kane, which I have remarkably never seen more than ten minutes of (for a delicious Architecture and Film class from my undergrad days), and which I recorded on one of the movie channels and have had sitting on my hard drive for approximately six weeks. It seemed like a good Movie #1, being both a movie I should really have seen by now, and also, like, the grandfather of all modern cinema. However, while at the library the other day to pick up my reserved copy of "Atonement," so I can read it before I see the movie (if I bother to see it in theaters, which I may not, because Keira Knightley often rubs me the wrong way, and I don't want to be trapped in a public place watching the movie if she gets on my nerves), I wandered into the DVD section to see if there was anything good on the shelves of the teeny-tiny branch of my library. (And there was! They have the last season of "Doctor Who," which I have yet to see, and didn't get at the moment, because I'll need a good block of time to watch it, which I am lacking at the moment, thanks to my obsessive designing of my wedding invitation and accompanying freak-out over finding a printer.) I spotted Pan's Labyrinth, which both Teo and I had wanted to see and snatched it up, thereby effectively shuffling Citizen Kane down the list to a point when I magically have two hours of time to sit in front of my computer and get lost in all of the Rosebud. (Having never seen the movie, I still know what that is.)
So I picked up Pan's Labyrinth and brought it home, and last night Teo was randomly in the mood to watch a movie, which almost never happens, so we busted it out. After some subtitle-related shenanigans (which we'd also experienced while trying to watch Volver a few months ago, so that'll be soon on the list), Teo figured out how to get it to play correctly and we settled in.
Full (spoilery) thoughts below the cut:
El Laberinto del fauno (2006)
I loved this. I don't know if what I have to say will be different than anything that I've read about it, because it was all so dead on and I barely have enough originality in my system today to work on logos for my boss, let alone talk about how freaking brilliant this movie was. I'd heard "grown-up fairy tale" bandied about so much, in reference to both this and Perfume (I'm...pretty sure, it's been awhile since I'd read about either of these movies, though, so I could be off) that I wasn't sure what to expect, though I knew there'd be an element of the fantastic. I sat down to watch this knowing the following things: 1) gorgeous, 2) dark, 3) set after the Spanish civil war. Other than that, I had no idea what to expect.
Gorgeous, indeed. I find it hard to fully appreciate the visuals in a foreign-language movie on the first watching, since I am so invested in reading to follow the story. I'd need to rewatch in order to really observe the use of color, palette changes, line and form, etc, but from my half-attentive viewing, the visuals were stunning. The muted palette throughout much of the movie was as oppressive as a separate character. The moonlit scenes were beautiful and haunting, and the connection between Ofelia and the moon was highlighted by her clear and brave depiction in the moonlight. The unexpected and grotesque shapes of beings in the movie, from the fairies to the faun to the pale man, even the Captain's slashed face, were note-perfect.
Dark, indeed. While I delight in shiny Disney-esque fairy tales, my tastes have always run towards the more macabre and wicked tellings, even though I am historically someone who cannot abide violence (it just sticks with me too much). Even though I danced in "The Nutcracker" for three years, I delight in informing people that in the original story, Clara (Marie) is found lying in a pool of blood, having broken glass-fronted cabinet downstairs while trying to fetch her beloved Nutcracker after she should have been in bed. There is no blood in the modern ballet, which is a right shame. I find movies with a darker side much more escapist. El Laberinto del fauno certainly delivers. More on that in the discussion of other themes.
However, the single most brilliant aspect of the movie had to have been the setting. Not only did the events in post-war Spain provide a harsh balance to the magical aspects of the story, they in fact drove the necessity for those elements. As the real world got bleaker, Ofelia was spurned deeper into the thought of escape. Knowing that her mother was likely to be destroyed by her new stepfather, whether during the birth of her brother, or soon after, Ofelia clung to her new identity and promised to take with her the only thing in this world that she was still connected to. The worse things were around her, though she was not exposed to some of the brutality of her stepfather or much of the conflict with the rebels, the deeper this drive to escape to her "true" world got. The setting also informed the characters, in that the Captain could really only have existed as such a monster in that time, Mercedes was driven to acts of bravery (and stupidity, come on that key is going to be traced back to you) by the desperation of the situation, etc. I am not familiar enough with Spanish history to really embrace any symbolism inherent in the movie relating to those themes, but I wouldn't be surprised at all to learn that the Pale Man and his feast are significant in some historical context.
The extremity of the setting also really added to the ambiguity of the fairy-tale aspect, which was kind of my favorite part. At no point in the movie are you really sure how much of the fantasy you're supposed to buy into. Ofelia's misery at being trapped with her new stepfather and her dying mother are so great, that it could be psychological escapism. The fact that the Captain does not see the faun inside the labyrinth, and no one hears the faun speaking to Ofelia inside her room, even though she's under watch, lends credence to that theory. However, the mandrake root as a gift from the faun (though she possibly could have found it outside) was the only element of the fantasy world that appeared in the real world that was noticed by other people, which damages the theory slightly. Though Ofelia carried the book with her in the house, no one commented, and though the chalk doors were show when the Captain ran into her room, it could have been just part of her fantasy game. The ambiguity makes the ending even darker, which I love. Was the Princess returning to her rightful place in her kingdom? Or were we simply privy to the final escapist thoughts of a dying girl's mind? I love that we're not sure.
The aspect that really surprised me was the brutality of the film (versus the somewhat tame fantasy violence, fairy-head-eating aside), which I was not as much expecting. My usual reaction to severe on-screen violence or impending gore is to hide my eyes and only peek over the tops of my fingertips, so I can gauge what's going on without exposing myself to too much of the imagery that tends to burn itself in my mind. This is somewhat complicated in a foreign-language film, where people are still talking and the bottom of the screen is hidden due to my utter cowardice and now I have no real idea what's happening. I liked how the brutality primarily centered around the cruelty of the Captain, making him more of a monster than even the Pale Man. In a fantasy movie, one generally expects the real-world characters to be either cruel or boring, but not necessarily in such a brutal and violent way. I was surprised at how much of the violence was actually shielded from Ofelia, as it would be useful to drive the story more, to paint her new stepfather as even more dangerous and terrible than she knew him to be. Because the brutality only informed the audience of character, it played a bigger part in the atmosphere of the movie, rather than the plot.
I thought the treatment of women in the movie was interesting and would love to rewatch to focus on that aspect. Being unfamiliar with the social status of women in Spain at that time period, I couldn't tell if it should have a general atmosphere of "silly, inconsequential women" or if it was just another example of how the Captain was foolish and cruel. His refusal to have a daughter, his concern for his wife's well-being only as a vessel for his son, his blind reliance on Mercedes and subsequent ignorance of how she was betraying him (until he got clonked with a mighty anvil in the shape of an pristine padlock), his disregard for his new stepdaughter's safety, this could all just be speaking to his character, or it could be a reflection of the political climate.
While I really liked the movie, it was not without its flaws. I thought the importance of the sedative and the chopping knife were far more telegraphed than necessary. If they had focused on each one once, it would have been sufficient, but to focus on them twice is giving away too much in an otherwise subtle story. While I appreciated that Ofelia acted like a child at the Pale Man's feast, stealing grapes and waving away the positively screaming fairies, I thought it implausible. She reads fairy tales regularly, surely the sort of stories where a detail such as that often has bigger implications. She was warned by both the faun and the book not to eat from the table, and yet she did. I also thought it was unnecessarily sloppy to have Mercedes hand over a copy of the key, or at least for the rebels to leave the unforced lock behind. The Captain was so suspicious all of the time, he didn't need such a solid reason to distrust Mercedes, so it felt like a betrayal of her character and sort of lazy plotting. I didn't see why she wouldn't kill him when she had the chance, even though he'd be replaced, it would still give her a little more time to get away. I didn't like how the Captain also only suspected Doctor Ferriero had given over medicine when he compared the two vials side-by-side. That also seemed too convenient to me, since both Teo and I turned to each other and were like "wouldn't...all medicine look the same anyway?" Like, it's not a prescription. It's akin to the Captain finding a bottle of Aleve in the woods and then later being all "hey, the doctor used Aleve on my wife. REBEL!" It took me out of the story and seemed weak to me.
Finally, I wasn't crazy about how little we knew about Ofelia when the movie was over. It might be just that her charcter wasn't as well developed as the Captain, but the fact that we knew SO MUCH about him as a person (fixation on image, control, issues with women, brutality) and learned very little about Ofelia as a person, it felt unbalanced. So much of her motive seemed to be reaction to her environment, as opposed to an extension of the developed person that she is, that she felt lacking as a character. Of course, she's a child and the person that she is was still forming throughout this movie, so it's not entirely wrong that we don't know her as well, but I thought we could have gotten more of "this is who she is, this is what is important to her" other than "she likes fairy tales, she misses her real father, she loves her mother."
Overall, though, for the many, many reasons I mentioned above, I really liked Pan's Labyrinth. It was such a rich movie, with so much going on, I didn't expect to write as much about it as I did. I probably will not review the other 99 movies in such detail, don't fret.