Pan’s Labyrinth: Memories of War and an Ode to Magical Realism

 
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Warning: This article contains spoilers!

Magical Realism: A style of fiction and literary genre that paints a realistic view of the modern world while also adding magical elements. 

Guillermo del Toro's 2006, Pan’s Labyrinth has often been described as a dark fantasy film for adults. Rooted in the idea of fairy tales, the audience follows Ofelia, a little girl with dreams, and a liking for fairy-tale stories. Upon meeting a faun, who tells her that she is the lost princess of a fantasy-like Kingdom, Ofelia sets out on a journey to complete missions that will allow her to go back to her family. This mirrors her desires for a happy life, rather than the one she currently lives, which consists of living with her mother, who is pregnant, and general Vidal, a cruel and ruthless fascist general. It is through Ofelia’s missions that we see the lines blur between reality and fantasy, ultimately understanding that the fantasy world Ofelia envisions is a safe haven from the war-torn country in which she lives. Through her eyes, del Toro explores the principles of magical realism in cinema. 

Pan’s Labyrinth takes place in Spain, five years after the end of the Civil War. However, whilst the war had been officially ended, the conflict continued throughout the rest of the 20th century, due to general Franco’s dictatorship. This conflict serves as the backdrop to the film, and the world of Ofelia’s reality - which is filled with violence, and fear. 

Throughout the film, we witness Ofelia finding comfort in fairy tales, and we often see her holding a bulky fairy tale book. Through this book, she holds onto her youth; dreaming of fairy tales, and stories of princesses, just like any other little girl her age would at the time. Ofelia has a strong attachment to her mother, Carmen, who is pregnant with her stepfather, general Vidal’s baby. Upon arriving at general Vidal’s estate, where he has been tasked to hunt down republican rebels, she is filled with fear at the presence of military commanders, soldiers, and Vidal’s workers - including Mercedes, a maid who is a spy to the republican rebel group. Guillermo del Toro establishes a complicated and crowded group of adults that surround Ofelia’s life, with her being the only child in the establishment. This atmosphere enhances her desire to escape to another world, one where she can be happy, with both her parents and family members. 

It is when she meets the faun, or el fauno, that her dreams feel tangible. The faun tells Ofelia that she is actually Princess Moanna, a princess that got lost after visiting the human world. The faun is able to paint a picture that is both realistic and attractive to Ofelia, offering her the company of fairies to help her on the quests that will allow her to return to her home and her father, king of the underworld. 

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After this impressive encounter with the faun, we see that Ofelia is the only one who can see these creatures, (the faun, the fairies, as well as all the monsters she encounters on her quest). Del Toro isolates the narrative between the adult world, which is filled with violence, and Ofelia’s fantasy world, which is also filled with violence, but the end goal seems more suited to her needs as a young child. 

It could be said that everything we see through Ofelia’s eyes is actually just a part of her imagination; nothing is really there, and perhaps that is true. However, the movie’s depiction of the realms of life and fantasy seems so connected because del Toro is able to obscure these boundaries through the literary form of magical realism. While not exclusive to Latin American literature, (the term was first coined by a German art critic), the genre has, to some extent, become synonymous with Latin America and its stories. These are often stories that deal with change and the exploration of the self, through irony of perspective, hybridity, and the supernatural. Pan’s Labyrinth feels like a visual companion to a genre that we often see in books. 

Guillermo del Toro’s background as a Mexican director, and the complexity of the themes and setting of this film, allow for a natural adaptation where things are happening - in both the adult world and Ofelia’s world - but are being seen in two different perspectives. This can be seen as mirroring not only the realities of the Spanish Civil War, but the trauma that Ofelia carries, and how she copes with it. 

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The faun acts as a mentor to Ofelia throughout the film. He, like most of the creatures, is never seen by other people, however, we have an idea that he isn’t just a part of Ofelia’s imagination, thanks to the mandrake root and the storybook the faun gives to her. We see how the mandrake root restores the health of Carmen, who suffers from pregnancy complications, and how the book visually tells Ofelia about her mother and Vidal’s cruelty. Objects from the real world and the fantasy world intercept and coexist with each other. Even when we see Ofelia in her last moments and in her death, the line between fantasy and reality is blurred. The faun tells her that in order to go home, she needs the blood of an innocent being. Initially, we think that she may sacrifice her baby brother, but through her death, we see how much more connected she was to the real world than we initially thought. Thus the first part of the film tricks us into thinking that Ofelia’s inner and external worlds are completely isolated from each other, that they are continuous and happen at the same time. There are no shifts in time, nor space, yet Ofelia’s actions remain the same. This shows us that Ofelia has to keep track of both of her worlds, rather than allowing the magical aspect to halt all the other conflicts. 

In literature, magical realism becomes evident through commentary and the usage of supernatural symbolism that is treated as something normal, rather than traditional magic. We could label Ofelia’s tasks as magical and treat them so, however, del Toro combines this literary genre with the cinematic conventions to justify his choice. Ofelia is a child, who has been told that she is a princess, and daughter of the King of the underworld; magic is expected, But even then, the magic isn’t conventional, instead, it’s rooted in reality and in the local resources of Ofelia’s surroundings, which also indicate the time period. The Pale Man is a perfect example of this. He lives is a long hallway that extends to a room where a long table is filled with food, and remains absent-minded until Ofelia takes an item from the table. This not only mirrors the economic circumstances of 20th century Spain, but also serves as a metaphor for the violence committed against the innocent - which is also depicted along the walls of the establishment, with imagery showing us that the Pale Man likes to eat children. The brutal nature of the Pale Man is a direct critique of Spanish fascism, and correlates to the actions committed by General Vidal. Throughout the film, Ofelia becomes witness to Vidal's brutality, but it is through the notion that it is a fairy tale, and her mission, that she is able to cope with the reality she lives in. 

Whether or not it was del Toro’s intention to connect the film back to magical realism, the film and its significance undoubtedly boasts a grand connection to the literary practices of Latin America and Spain. It uses a widely known literary genre and translates itself on-screen, in the best way possible, in order to reach its audience. Though perhaps purely coincidental, the film feels like an ode and a perfect visual companion to magical realism. The film is able to separate itself from the conventions of the fantasy genre and creates a completely different structure that allows the film to stand out, while still serving as a commentary of an important and critical point in the history of Spain. While tales of the Spanish Civil War and Franco’s dictatorship, take many shapes and forms, this one paints a digestible picture for the common viewer, yet still allows those who are familiar with the concept and the historical events to dig deeper into the visual symbolism of its characters and surroundings. 

 
María Erivesbatch 5