Pan's Labyrinth

When you see at least three movies per week, you start to think of them differently. You begin to realize that there are a limited number of stories in circulation out there so, instead of giving stories themselves much consideration, you begin to focus on execution.

Then, a movie like PAN'S LABYRINTH comes along. Not only does it give us a unique, universal, engrossing, and thought-provoking story; but it also excels in its execution. Truly innovative, imaginative films such as this remind us of what thin gruel we often accept when we sit down for a movie.

PAN'S LABYRINTH takes place in a specific time and place - 1940s Spain, and in a place out of time - Faerie. Creator Guillermo del Toro circles between and among the two in a series of seamless transitions that leave us wondering what is real, what is imaginary, and what is more real than reality. He does it through the stories of Ofelia , an 11-yr-old girl, and Capitán Vidal, an officer in Franco's fascist army and Ofelia's new stepfather. When the film opens, Ofelia and her (pregnant) mother are enroute to join Vidal at his outpost in the Spanish woods. Once they get there, Ofelia discovers Pan, a creature out of myth who may be evil; and the nature of her stepfather, who is definitely evil. As the film progresses and the two characters find their fates, we begin to see how they fit into the movie's whole. It's not an easy fit, in that their journey and our journey with them can be profoundly uncomfortable, even horrifying. Further, their journeys aren't easily encapsulated or analyzed. I'm still working through several of the film's thematic elements, and I suspect I'll be chewing on this one for quite some time.

So, yes, PAN'S LABYRINTH boasts a complex, adult, and thought-provoking story. It also creates a fully-developed world, rich in detail, that offers visions both of profound beauty and staggering horror. Speaking of the latter, I thought that film had long since lost the ability to frighten me with monsters, but I was wrong. This film's Pale Man, a subterranean monster that feels like something from blackest nightmare, struck fear in my heart from the moment I saw him. Once he started moving, I wasn't just pleasantly scared at the movies - I was little boy in the dark scared. What brilliant setup, design, and execution of the character and his setting: everyone from conceptual designer William Stout to actor Doug Jones to del Toro himself united to create a masterpiece within a masterpiece, and it's horrifyingly wonderful. That's just one example, however. Be it the fascist outpost in the heart of the forest or the ancient pagan monuments nearby, everything about these
places and those who live therein feels both organic and elevated, mundane and mythic. It's great work.

Y'know, I can't think of anything PAN'S LABYRINTH did wrong. I only wish I hadn't sent it back to Netflix quite so quickly. As I write about it, it occurs to me that I'd like to see this movie a second time, and a third. This is a movie I could get lost in, again and again. Much as I enjoyed HELLBOY, I didn't think del Toro had a film like this in him. I'm so happy I was wrong.

Versus

Note to self: If I ever join the Yakuza, be sure not to bury my bodies in the Forest of Resurrection. They have this unpleasant way of ... resurrecting.

Such is the premise of the delightful VERSUS, an audacious Japanese picture that combines the delights of samurai, yakuza, zombies, warlocks, and karate in a bubbling, delicious stew of gory fun. This is the kind of movie that doesn't just have zombies, it has zombies with guns. It doesn't just have samurai, it has both classical swordsmen and modern guys with leather overcoats and techno-katanas. This is a movie that's so ridiculously over the top that I was willing to forgive it its many inconsistencies (and its antagonists' lack of skill with their blades) while I gaily tapped my foot along with its thumpin' electro-pop beats and watched the carnage ensue.

This picture is moving manga. Its characters are so over-the-top that not once will you confuse them with real people, but you will have fun seeing just how far they go. What a great time at the movies.

Appleseed

APPLESEED, a 2005 anime film from Shinji Aramaki, suffers from the malady of the tronhead: a focus on the technically achievable at the expense of the actually valuable.

Consequently, APPLESEED looks great. The animation is top-notch, the action sequences both organic and fantastic, the world reasonably complete. However, APPLESEED's story is derivative and uninteresting. Additionally, the voice work, particularly by stars Jennifer Proud and Mia Bradley (who appear to have no other credits), is so squeakily thin and bad that it detracts from the audience's ability to suspend its disbelief.

Here's the story: it's a dystopian future, blah blah blah. A super soldier fights against blah blah blah. She's recruited to join an elite unit that protects a utopian city where all is not what it blah blah blah. There's a Hallmark Card moral and a dull wrapup, and whenever the picture isn't blowing something up or shooting something to bits, it drags more than HOW TO MAKE AN AMERICAN QUILT. Frankly, I just didn't care about this world or the people in it, at least partially because I didn't find anything new there. How many dystopian futures have we seen already? How many betrayals by authority figures? How many generals gone mad?

If the filmmakers had followed the Pixar path of devoting at least as much time to story and character development as to technical execution, they may have had a winner on their hands. As it is, however, they merely have a series of pretty pictures, best viewed with the sound off. Too bad.

Mostly Martha

I loved MOSTLY MARTHA.

Martina Gedeck, from THE LIVES OF OTHERS, is Martha. She’s obsessed with food, is incredibly Teutonic in her entire approach to life, and could really use a good holiday in Italy. Her kitchen is her inviolable domain, and the restaurant in which she works is an elite destination in her gray North German industrial city. She has issues, however: her boss is just as German as she is, she can’t relate to anyone except through the medium of food, and, well, she’s lonely.

Then, the changes start rolling in. First, circumstances force her to take custody of her niece, a role for which she’s entirely unprepared. Then, an Italian enters her kitchen as an assistant chef. Oh, the horror! An Italian! And he’s good! From there, the movie takes us on the journey of Martha’s development into a functioning woman who, while still obsessed with food, is healthily obsessed with food. That in itself is a rewarding tale, particularly if you enjoy gently romantic comedies. But what really makes this movie special is the way it gently pokes fun at Germans and German-ness, particularly in contrast to Italian culture.

MOSTLY MARTHA is sad, it's funny, and it's a joy to watch. DB and I will trade quips about tasting the sugar the other didn't use for some time to come.