Craiger’s Cinema Corner

****  out of  ****

Can an actor that has already won an Academy Award still be considered underrated? 

If your Chris Cooper then I would answer a resounding yes. 

His razor-sharp and meticulously tuned performance in Billy Ray’s Espionage thriller, BREACH, is the best of his career thus far and his finest hour since he snagged Oscar gold in 2002 for ADAPTATION.  Perhaps Cooper is underrated in the manner that he flies in under the radar of expectations.  He carries with him such a soft spoken and stern determination and focus with his eclectic roles that you very rarely ever see the actor underneath the parts.  Instead, you see the actor inhabit them.  Of all of the great contemporary actors, Cooper is one of the rare breed that is able to do this so effortlessly, which is why I think that he is sometimes forgotten when cinemaphiles compile lists for the best actors working today.

BREACH epitomizes how one single performance can completely dominate every frame of a film.  This is not to say that the other actors do not give it their all in BREACH, but this is a pure one man show through and through.  Perhaps the key to Cooper’s remarkably layered and nuanced performance is that he plays such a man of paradox. 

Billy Ray has approached such contradictory figures in his past films, like the criminally overlooked SHATTERED GLASS, which focused on another troubled and duplicitous character.  In that film Stephen Glass was a journalist that was respected by his peers and seemed like a well-rounded writer.  He was charismatic, likeable, and persuasive, but underneath him lurked a demented little worm that purposely engaged in deception.  He won critically accolades for his stories, but what no one at the time realized was that he cooked them all up.  He was an ultimate phony…a con man…and charlatan.  What was so enthralling about SHATTERED GLASS was how enamored I became in the levels and severity of his deceit.  I almost came out of that film with a sly level of respect for his charades, despite the fact that he was a sniveling little leach of a man.

BREACH works even better in much the same capacity.  The film also takes its subject matter from the headlines and also deals with a real creep, but a ruthless, wickedly intelligent, and highly intuitive creep.  In this case its Robert Hanssen, whose real life story was the basis for THE ELEVENTH HOUR by Adam Mazar and Bill Rotko.  Hanssen spent 25-plus years working for the FBI.  He was a very self-riotous man who was intensely spiritual and condemned “Godlessness”.  He attended mass regularly every morning and spoke strongly about the necessity for men to be loyal to the Bible and its teachings.  He was completely engulfed with three things in equal order: God, country, and family.  In short, he seemed like a regular All-American that was being all that he could be.

That was all a lie.

In secret he was an FBI agent that became a spy.  He would commit some of the worst treason in US history that many historians have commented on as being the most devastating intelligence disasters ever in the country.  He also was big into Internet porn and had a penchant for taping sex with his wife and file sharing it with other people on line.  Sure, being treasonous to your country is a sin; being a sex fiend only added tons of salt to his wounds.

Among the members of the FBI, Hanssen was considered a fairly mediocre agent, someone that was not worth worrying about.  Yet, beyond his meek façade was a cold and manipulative beast.  He sold his first bit of classified information to the Soviets in 1979 for $1.4 million in cash and diamonds.  He also revealed the identities of KGB double agents and eventually compromised their lives.  He was the ultimate granddaddy of snitches and the damage he did to the US government has been described as irreparable.  He was captured in 2001 after decades of deceit.  He received life in prison without the death penalty (he arranged a plea bargain to get out of it) and sits 23 hours a day in maximum-security solitary confinement.  He has absolutely no chance of parole.  He is a locked up man for life.

Okay, some could call BREACH rigidly anti-climatic, but those naysayers miss the point.  The film is not so much about the who’s and the when’s of his capture, but more about the build up to it.  Yes, we all know that he was caught, but the captivating and riveting aspect of the BREACH is in all of the details that led up to that point in 2001.  It’s one of those very rare espionage thrillers that is less concerned with explosions and bullets flying.  This one works strongly because of well-defined characters, brilliant acting, and a well-oiled and expertly paced screenplay that effectively lures in the audience into its cat and mouse battle of wits.  The tension built here is purely psychological and not really about mayhem. 

The film opens with Eric O’Neil (Ryan Phillippe, getting more mature and broad with every new performance) who is training to be an FBI agent.  One day he is pulled away from his assignment by Special Agent Kate Burroughs (Laura Linney). She gives Eric a new job that perhaps he has been waiting for as a meal ticket to FBI fame.  He will become the desk clerk for Agent Hanssen (Cooper) and find out as much about him as possible.  He is asked to write a journal and report daily about the most simple of activities.  In short, he’s a mole.  Why?  Well, at first at least, Burroughs tells him that Hanssen is a pervert that is addicted to pornography and the last thing the FBI needs is another sensationalistic story with the Bill Clinton/Monica Lewinsky story still being uttered in the press. 

Eric agrees, albeit begrudgingly at first.  He wisely asks his higher ups why they just don’t go in and arrest the man, but they respond that they need to catch him in the act.  Fair enough.  Their first few days with one another are stressful and tense.  At first, Hanssen is a cold hearted and manipulative snake to Eric, which makes his spy work all the more difficult.  Even worse is the fact that Hanssen is an exemplary judge of character.  He can see through a lie better than anyone and can spot a tell from a million miles away.  He also has a photographic memory for detail.  At one point he leaves his office and Eric begins to snoop around.  Eric barely touches anything.  When Hanssen comes back he takes a few glances at his office, turns to Eric and warns him, “If you ever mess around in my office again you’ll be pissing purple for a week.”

Slowly, Eric begins to ease into his assignment and his initial displeasure with the man grows into father-like hero worship.  The more he works closely alongside him the more he sees him as a morally head strong American that cares for his family and country.  He views Hanssen as a real patriot and cannot understand how he could possibly have anything to do with porn.  He never curses, goes to church everyday, and instills lessons of the Bible in Eric constantly.  At one point when he reaches his breaking point he confronts Burroughs and wants out.  It is here where he discovers the truth about Hanssen’s double life as a Russian secret agent.  Horrified and shocked, Eric must now muster up all of his faculties in an effort to out-manipulate the man he once admired before he can discover his own dual role.

BREACH is a film that builds suspense so terrifically in the most simple of ways.  One moment would make Hitchcock proud where Eric secretly has taken Hanssen’s palm pilot and attempts to download files before he can return to the office.  Just when he is home free he realizes – dammit – that he can’t remember which pocket in the four-pocket briefcase Hanssen put the pocket PC in.  The manner that Eric is able to deflect Hanssen’s suspicions about him being a mole is also kind of ingenious.  At one point he is forced to stall getting him back to headquarters so that his superiors can strip Hanssen’s car for evidence and the put it back together without him knowing.   Eric purposely takes a detour to extend the trip back, which upsets Hanssen so much that he decides to jump out of the car and walk back to work (in this instance – walking would be quicker).  If Eric does not stall him here then his mission is sunk.  Well, he does stall him further and the way that he does so by appealing to his religious predilections and passions reaches a level of crafty and spontaneous inventiveness.  It’s the mental game of poker faces that the two characters play that always makes BREACH so enthralling. 

Beyond its expert pacing and taut and tense narrative, BREACH is an actor’s film.  The performance by Laura Linney is brief, but brimming with authority and strength.  Ryan Phillippe is given the tricky role of the typical rookie character that respects his mentor figure and then must be able to out fox him to get him in the end.  In a lesser screenplay or in the hands of an inferior actor, Eric could have been a perfunctory and routine role.  Yet, Phillippe is able to craft his best performance to date as the wet-behind-the-ears FBI trainee.  After making some great career choices as of late (like being in CRASH and FLAGS OF OUR FATHERS) he is steadily shedding his reputation for being in fluff. 

However, BREACH is owned by Cooper with his brilliant turn as the creepy and icy demeanored Hanssen.  He is able to command our buy in to the troubled character with such weight.  Hanssen is a villain, but one that goes largely against the grain for political thrillers like this.  He walks a fine line between being a figure that commands respect and one that deserves our chastising ridicule.  He is often seen as a decent and headstrong man that stands for good, noble concepts, but he is unavoidably damaged goods by the fact of his lecherous stabbing in the back of the country he professes to love and adore.  He is a charismatic presence and incredibly smart, so smart that his lack of mobility up the ladder at the FBI wounds his pride, and you can see his pain in his eyes.  For this, Hanssen is somewhat sympathetic and we can relate to his frustration, even when he capitalizes in on it and channels it into treacherous actions.  By the end of the film when he is captured I did not find myself hating him as much as feeling pity for him.  He’s kind of a sad and pathetic figure more than he is an unfeeling monster.

BREACH is a thriller and real-life inspired espionage film that does not go for cheap thrills, nor does it try to confuse us with a labyrinthian plot and confusing character arcs and double crosses.  It is a film about efficient and strong storytelling and acting done with consistent economy.  It’s unconventional in the sense that, within the first few minutes, we know whom the bad guy will be, the fact that he gets caught, and the despicable acts he perpetrated.  The film then allows us to discover all of the other bits of the narrative puzzle and it does so by keeping us compelled and transfixed by the proceedings.  BREACH is subtle, enveloping, and lean filmmaking at its best and emerges as the finest film of the young year thus far.  And Chris Cooper is so quietly commanding and discretely strong in his role as one of the greatest turncoats in US history that – if you blink – you just may miss out in how great the performance is. 

Read more reviews by one of Westernn Canada’s leading on-line critics at:

www.craigerscinemacorner.com

***  out of  ****

“…she was not happy, and never had been. Why was life so unsatisfying?…But if somewhere there existed a strong, handsome man with a valorous, passionate and refined nature…why is it not possible that she might meet him some day?”

From MADAME BOVARY

Sarah is a rather odd homemaker.  She’s a mom living in a seemingly perfect suburbia with a young daughter and a successful husband.  However, she does not genuinely love being around them.  She sees her husband as distant and flakey and her daughter could just as well be from another planet.  She has difficulty relating to them on any level.  Sarah also has a Masters degree in literature and was just short of her PhD.  She’s smart - perhaps a bit too smart - in the way that she is able to pontificate about the themes of books like MADAME BOVARY to her neighborhood book club.  “Madame Bovary is not a feminist because she committed adultery, “ she explains at one point, “she’s one because of her spirit.” 

Perhaps she thinks this as a way to help her cope with her own adulterous affair, which she has been embroiled in behind everyone’s back.

It began rather simply and innocently enough.  Sarah (Kate Winslet) has one of those obligatorical movie meet cutes where she exchanges loving glances at a man with odd fascination and a bit of perplexion.  One day in the park she talks to her friends about the so-called “Prom King” that comes to the park everyday with his three-year-old son.   The ladies find him mysterious and attractive; they like to talk about him a lot, but they don’t even know his name.  Sarah bolsters up some courage and tells her friends that she will go over and talk to him.  They then up the ante.  If she is able to get his phone number, they will give her five bucks.  She accepts the deal and proceeds.

Sarah approaches the Prom King.  He’s a nice, affable chap that seems to be a loving and caring father.  He’s also a hunk that makes the park women droll.  Sarah soon becomes surprised with how candid and magnanimous he is towards her and how she is able to get small little nuggets of information about his life.  She learns his name (Brad, played by Patrick Wilson) and that he went to law school, but has failed the bar exam twice.  His heart is not in it, but his wife’s (Kathy – Jennifer Connolly) is.  She has a job as a documentary filmmaker while Brad stays home to be a Mr. Mom seven days a week.  He seems content with his job raising a son while the wife works.  She does not.

Sarah and Brad develop a quick bond and a nice rapport.  Sarah likes Brad and the feelings are instantly reciprocated.  Before she leaves him she reveals the wager that she has become embroiled in.  Feeling frisky, she tells him that it would really make the ladies “go nuts” if he gave her a hug in front of them.  He obliges.  Then, she goes for broke.  “If you kiss me,” she asks him, “Then that will really set them off.  Brad does not seem to think twice.  The two lock lips quickly, but it’s a turning point in their lives.  They fall in love right there.

Thus begins the hook for Todd Field’s sophomore film, LITTLE CHILDREN, which as a companion piece to his first effort (the great IN THE BEDROOM) demonstrates his sharp and astute abilities to quietly and patiently develop three-dimensional characters that walk narrow moral roads.  He also deals with material that is both sensationalistic and – at times – unnerving and disturbing. 

His approach here is kind of intriguing.  He creates a view of suburban New England life that looks ideal and normal, but he hints that at the heart of this quintessential look at the American family lies something more creepy and unsettling.  Obviously, tales of suburbia that go against the grain by showing their darker sides is hardly nothing new (the Oscar winning AMERICAN BEAUTY did the same to great effect), but Field here displays a great amount of ingenuity and and patience with letting his story slowly unfold and allows his characters to kind of effortless weave through one another.  The film is hard to sit through at times, but he also manages to infuse small instances of black comedy in-between to make the proceedings a bit easier to sit through.  Honestly, aren’t self-deluded adulterers who think what they’re doing is right kind of darkly funny?

The luridness of the story could have made LITTLE CHILDREN lower itself down to the level of a torrid, seamy, melodramatic soap opera.  However, Field and his co-writer, Tom Perrotta (who based the screenplay on his book of the same name) aims for a more nuanced and low-key approach to the film.  What’s truly interesting is the way that they make every character worthy of our empathy, no matter how crazed or depraved they really are.  Sarah and Brad are kind of disingenuous characters for how they feel that the only way to escape the monotony of their daily lives is to have a secret affair, but Field and Perrotta give their characters a subtle humanity that makes they more completely realized.  These are not one-dimensional cretins who are too stupid to realize the beautiful families that they already have.  Sarah and Brad are flawed personas that almost kind of invite our willingness to root them on to make the right choices.

Perhaps even more astounding is the film’s handling of its most sickening character.  Ronald James McGorvey (in an absolutely chilling and creepy performance by Jackie Earle Haley) is a sex offender who has just been released from jail.  He has problems with dealing with his sexual urges.  He was caught flashing a child.  Once released he is sent to live with his mother (Phyllis Sommerville) and is  ordered not to come anyway close to parks or public places where children are present.  Interestingly, Ronald is highly self-aware about his sick, sexual predilections: he knows he’s a pervert.  His mother does not think so.  She thinks that all he needs to do is find the right woman.  “Why wouldn’t a woman want to go out with you, “ she asks him at one point.  “Because I am not a nice person,” he dryly responds.

Achieving a life of normalcy is difficult for him, especially when a crazy ex-cop named Larry (played with effective paranoia and angry confusion by Noah Emmerich) decides to create a group whose job it is to scatter the town with leaflets with Ronald’s picture on them.  The film is fascinating in how it deals with the whole arc of the relationship between the bitter and angry Larry and the pathetic Ronald, the former that goes out of his way to hate the sex offender.  Surely, Ronald’s actions are inexcusable, but Larry is also a loser in the way that he tries to antagonize Ronald and his elderly mother.  Ronald did wrong, but does he not deserve a second chance?  The way Larry publicly mocks and chastises him and the time he spends watching his every move is kind of equally sickening.  He’s just as sinister as a stocker.

LITTLE CHILDREN is always a strong work in the way that in paints these tragic figures candidly and frankly.  The film overwhelmingly is about the affair of Sarah and Brad and how they let their feelings of isolation within their marriages help feed their lust and longing for one another.  Sarah sure has reasons for wanting to dump her husband (another of the film’s trashy figures in the sense that he becomes addicted to porn sites and is later caught by Sarah masturbating to one of his favourite sites…never a healthy sign of a good, stable husband).  Brad’s spouse, on the other hand, does not have the problems that typifies Sarah’s husband, but she is an icy and dictatorial figurehead in Brad’s life.  She constantly tells him what to do and this suffocates him.  Yes, she is gorgeous and would make any man happy, but Brad wants more than looks; he wants a woman that expresses interest in him for who he is.  Sarah appeases his sensibilities in this regard.  His marriage is too restrictive and domineering.  Like Sarah, he needs release.

Perhaps the film’s strongest asset is the way all of the actor’s don’t get into a rut of playing their roles with broad and simplistic strokes.  This goes for everyone, from the adulterers to the sex offender.  Winslet is so magnificent at honing in Sarah’s sense of inner despair and emotional chaos that she is able to generate our understanding without our instant sympathy with her plight.  The same is also true for Patrick Wilson, who plays a role somewhat similar to the one he played in one of 2006’s best films, HARD CANDY, albeit to a greater depravity.  In that film he also played a character that was morally reprehensible.  In LITTLE CHILDREN he again displays his underrated range at portraying unsavory characters that are layered and textured.  With his work in both films, Wilson could take claim to break out performer of the year.

The best performance by far has to go to Jackie Earle Haley, who is almost unbearably slimy and repugnant as the sex offender.  Wisely, Haley does not stereotypically play him as a horrid caricature.  He’s sick, to be sure, but it becomes increasingly tricky to pin point whether Ronald is a character that understands what he has done and will live a good life or if he will re-offend at some point.  There is a tremendous level of tension and pathos with his character in the sense that underneath his meager exterior façade lays a caldron of perverse violence.  You really never know whether he is going to engage in his repulsive impulses or not, and that is a testament to Haley’s abilities.  A date he goes on late in the film harkens back to a similar disastrous one in TAXI DRIVER in the way that they both end in a horribly awkward fashion.  His recent Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actor was well deserved.

LITTLE CHILDREN has some weak points.  Firstly, the film utilizes an ostentatiously obvious voice over narration by an unnamed party to tap into the specific thoughts of the characters. The approach here is unique (LITTLE CHILDREN is one of the rare book adaptations that tries to feel like a piece of literature with its expositional asides in the third person), but it distracts from our overall involvement in individual scenes.  There is really no need for editorials on what the characters are thinking at any given moment (which drains out any option of the viewer inferring their own conclusions as to the thoughts of the characters). 

The film also underwrites the character of Kathy and marginalizes Jennifer Connolly’s abilities.  This is even truer with the character of Sarah’s husband, who is too quickly established as a fiend that prompts Sarah on her affair.  After this he is oddly never heard from again until later in the film, almost as if the screenplay forgot he was a character.  He shows up when it is convenient for the script.  Finally, LITTLE CHILDREN does not always find the right equilibrium between all of the story arcs.  At times it’s difficult to tell whether or not the film wants to focus on the Sarah/Brad affair or on the Larry/Ronald confrontation.  The film’s lack of focus makes the film’s nearly two and a half hour running time feel even longer.

LITTLE CHILDREN may have some difficulty with managing some of its disparaging story elements and characters, but Todd Field’s second major feature film still emerges as a fairly rich character driven drama about troublesome characters in emotional tailspins.  Its stories of adulterous lovers and sex offenders may be too loathsome and cringe worthy for some filmgoers to sit through.  However, Field – to his credit – is able to craft the film with a hypnotic and vivacious allure.  LITTLE CHILDREN is not a film told with predictable strokes, nor does it play out exactly as perceived. Instead, it deals with challenging issues and themes and reveals them in excruciatingly morose detail.  What results is a film that is not easy to digest for modest viewers, but it nevertheless is shrewdly written, brilliantly acted, dryly funny, and disturbing in how it shows the landscape of American suburbia as being tainted and dreary.  Perhaps the biggest impression the film has is in its constant dealing with one issue: are its characters worthy of redemption?  By not directly answering that conundrum, LITTLE CHILDREN – in the long run – becomes an absorbing and complex film.

Read more reviews by one of Western Canada’s leading on-line film critics at:

www.craigerscinemacorner.com

**1/2  out of  ****

Guillermo del Toro’s  PAN’S LABYRINTH is a film of strange contradictions.  On a visual level, it is one of 2006’s great, opulent feasts for the eyes.  It contains imagery and sights that inspire legitimate awe and wonder.  De Toro – much like his fellow Mexican directors that have recently emerged – is primarily gifted when it comes to imaginative and evocative art direction and set design.  PAN’S LABYRINTH uses state of the art CG visual effects with atmospheric and moody cinematography to create a thoroughly intoxicating on-screen universe.  Like the great escapist fantasies, the film works by working on us.  It certainly attains a level of transcending, out-of-body allure.

Yet, beyond the film’s dense and stylistic visual palette, PAN’S LABYRINTH is unrelentingly downbeat and depressing.  On a positive, the film wisely remembers that the tradition of the fairy tales of our past appeased to both adult and young audiences.  I feel that the best kind of fairy tales bridge the gap between the two.  PAN’S LABYRINTH is a fairy tale with fantastical elements, but it is most certainly not a fairy tale for children. 

With disturbing imagery, haunting camera work and lighting, and in-your-face graphic violence, del Toro obviously seems more interested in enticing older viewers.  Ironically, the main character is a child, whose wide-eyed innocence is entranced by a lush, mystical world that takes her away from her hellish reality.  The choice here to tell the film from the child’s point of view is somewhat strange: children viewers will identify with her, but the film is so unrelentingly macabre, desolate, and gruesome that no child in the world would be able to make it through PAN’S LABYRINTH without having nightmares for weeks on end.

I guess that’s why the film left a strange and unsavory taste in my mouth.  Yes, de Toro’s fantasy is clearly aimed at viewers well past adolescence and it contains such a dark, depraved, and downtrodden sensibility.  Surely, there is nothing worse than an escapist film that panders down to audience members as if they were infants.  However, the film bathes itself in such ubiquitous misery and suffering that it all but drains out the chief ingredient that I yearn for in fantasies: a sense of fun and exuberance.  The film has visuals that are enjoyable on a level of appreciating their craft, but beyond them lays a story of cruelty and horror.  Watching PAN’S LABYRINTH is never fun or exciting.  By the end of it, I felt more disturbed and troubled than I did uplifted and excited.  The film is so harsh and uncompromising that it forgets that the root of all good fairy tales is a sense of whimsicality and liveliness. 

PAN’S LABYRINTH sets its fantasy in the realm of reality, in its case mid-1940’s Spain.  At this time the country is ruled by a fascist regime that is being challenged by resistance fighters who hope to topple their dictatorial means.  It is a vile and oppressive time, and young Ofelia (in a terrific performance by Ivana Baquero) finds herself trapped amidst all of the chaos.  Her father has just died, who was a victim of all of the bloody battles that rage on in her country.  Her mother (Adriana Gil) still lives, but she was in such a fragile and vulnerable state that she was forced to marry the horrendously tyrannical and manipulative Captain Vidal (the chilling and monstrous Sergi Lopez), whose methods are calculating in their viciousness.  There is a formality to the Captain, who is – at times – a man of determination and focus, but this is only matched by his remarkable cruelty and inhuman taste for torture.

Ofelia does not like the man (can you blame her?) and has equal distaste for not only her mother being married to the fascist tyrant, but also for the fact that she is carrying his child.  What she yearns for on a daily basis is some manner of escape.  One day she explores the lands around her new home (the Captain’s rural outpost) and to her surprise she finds an ancient labyrinth that is carved out of centuries-old rock formations.  The sight peaks her sense of exploration: what she soon discovers is that inside the labyrinth lays creatures of the mythological past - fauns and fairies.  In one of the film’s best early scenes we see one of the fairies (in large insect form) entice the young and inquisitive Ofelia to discover more about the world that lurks beyond her imagination.  If I was as young as Ofelia, the sight of this giant bug would have scared the hell out of me, but never mind.

The story then weaves back and forth between the mythic world of the labyrinth and the hellish and violent times that Ofelia occupies.  To a young child living under the threat of constant attacks by rebels against her deplorable stepfather that makes her skin crawl, escaping to a world of make-believe and fantasy seems enticing.  On a nightly basis she begins to explore beyond the labyrinth and meets creatures odd, exotic, and a bit terrifying.  Insects as large as shoes, slimy toads that could swallow you whole, and horrifying monsters with eyes in their hands populate this world.  One of them, a faun named Pan (Doug Jones) meets up with Ofelia during one fateful night.  Pan is an amazing achievement of stunning makeup and virtuoso costume and makeup design.  He has the head of a goat and the body of a warped, decaying tree.  Amazingly, the creature was done practically on set without being computer rendered, and the result is astonishing.

Pan reveals a surprise to Ofelia: she is the long lost princess of the Underworld and the daughter of its King.  He desperately wants her to divorce herself from her world and to finally return to the mystical world where she belongs.  Of course, Pan will only allow her to make a triumphant return if she completes three quests to prove her worth.  If she is able to complete all of them before the next full moon then she will be welcomed back with open arms.  Any deviation from Pan’s instructions will result in permanent exile.  Predictably, she does not faithfully follow his instructions, which causes some near-fatal setbacks.

In order to fulfill her tasks, Pan gives Ofelia The Book of Crossroads.  It gives her all of the hints she will need to be successful.  She opens the book and decides to explore the world that the faun introduced to her.  The film here bristles with a creepy originality and gothic spirit with the set pieces.  Her first task is to retrieve a golden key from the belly of a giant toad that lives beneath a huge fig tree (she succeeds by tricking it to eat three magic stones, but not without getting “slimmed’).  The toad eventually vomits up the key after eating a cocktail of giant bugs and magic stones that Ofelia concocts.  Yuck.

Her second task goes less successfully.  The faun instructs her to take some magic chalk and draw herself a door that will take her to an underground hall.  There she will find a huge banquet table filled with food and deserts.  At the front of the table is a disturbing and slumbering monster known as Pale Man.  The faun wants Ofelia to unlock one of the three boxes nearby the feast and to take whatever she finds inside.  He also gives her one other vital piece of advice: do not eat anything from the table, no matter how enticed she may become.  Ofelia does not obey and grabs a couple of grapes and eats them.  Soon, Pale Man comes to life and lurches towards Ofelia.  It grabs two of the fairies that had accompanied her and chews off their heads, slurping up the blood that comes from their stumps.  Ofelia should have clued into his cannibalistic treachery from the murals on the walls, which shows Pale Man catching and devouring human babies.  Needless to say, she narrowly escapes, but Pan is greatly displeased with her.

Juxtaposed with these moments of the fantasy world are scenes in reality which deal with Ofelia’s stepfather and her mother, who is battling a difficult and painful pregnancy.  She overhears Vidal telling his doctor that he could care less if the mother dies; only his baby and legacy matter.  Even worse is the fact that the doctor and a servant of Vidal’s are revealed to be sympathizers to the rebels (they have been supplying them with valuable Intel and food).  Vidal discovers this and methodically and horrifically tortures one of the captured rebels.  He soon sets his sights on the servant and the doctor.  Meanwhile, Ofelia’s mother is dying and may not make it through childbirth.  Desperate and tired, Ofelia seeks out the faun one last time for a second chance for her to prove her worthiness to return to the magical world once and for all.

PAN’S LABYRINTH has been unfairly praised its daring originality (a cursory look at some past fantasy films like THE CHRONICLES OF NARNIA and Jim Henson’s LABYRINTH shows that they are all quite similar in narrative: a young character is thrust into a world of magic and creatures and is forced to learn lessons of disobedience and personal choice).  There are also some definitive echoes to Hayoa Miyazaki’s SPIRITED AWAY and THE WIZARD OF OZ.  Also, Images of fauns and labyrinths have dominated popular mythology through the ages. 

Where PAN’S LABYRINTH does earn points is for its execution of familiar themes and constructs.   The visuals of the film are extraordinarily exquisite and powerful.  Many moments are quite memorable, such as the first appearance of Pan, the wretched and slinky mannerisms of Pale Man, and the panoramic shots of the underground world, filmed with an eye for detail and visual density.  More than anything, del Toro deserves praise as a director with a singular vision.  PAN’S LABYRINTH is one of the great looking fantasies of the last few years that is equally elaborate and eerily beautiful.

However, I still question the film’s underlining motives and target audience.  The lessons it wants to teach are decidedly more child-centric - despite being a hard R-rated film - and the film’s focus is squarely from the prerogative of a child.  Interestingly, the film plays around with the nature of reality (is Ofelia dreaming of the magical world or is it real?).  Perhaps the underground kingdom and universe is Ofelia’s subconscious way of dealing with the grim circumstances that she finds herself thrust into.  The film, on these levels, is kind of intriguing.  However, the overwhelming tone of PAN’S LABYRINTH is emotionally draining and disturbing.  Its time period is a unique choice, and many individual scenes with Vidal and his actions against the rebels could have made a compelling film in their own right.  Yet, these sequences are so politically laced and violent that they all but drown out the excitement of the film.  Moreover, the underground kingdom is such a dark, murky, and frightening environment that how Ofelia would find solace in it is beyond me.

The film is categorically gruesome and stomach churning at times.  Many scenes are punctuated by such haunting brutality; it’s almost as if de Toro has a voyeuristic pleasure in the mayhem.  Sometimes the graphic carnage is taken to gratuitous levels to the point of puerile showmanship, like del Toro is almost more entranced by showing us what he can do more than by saying something profound .  One scene involving Vidal sewing up a disgustingly horrific knife gash on his cheek is kind of needless and redundant.  The film sometimes comes across as being a bit too excessive for its own good.

Considering Guillermo del Toro’s film resume (he made forgettable horror films like MIMIC and HELLBOY, not to mention the emphatically insipid and terrible BLADE: TRINITY), it’s somewhat surprising to see that his latest fantasy is a masterfully realized bit of make-believe.  PAN’S LABYRINTH genuinely intrigues with its bold and extravagant sights and del Toro spares no expense at using film technology to create creatures and vistas of real power.  The film is a marvelous visual odyssey that creates unforgettable imagery.  Yet, it is also unyielding as an adult fairy tale that uses R-rated viciousness and bloodshed to the point of becoming an unqualified downer.  When the credits rolled by I was both amazed and disturbed.  PAN’S LABYRINTH is both peculiar and intriguing.  It’s beautifully mounted, yet repellently hard to sit through at times.  It’s altogether rare that a film left in me such conflicting feelings and emotions.  It is a stunning achievement of filmmaking artifice swallowed by disturbing violence.  I can say that I appreciated it’s inventiveness, but cannot admit to finding joyous escape in its misery and despair, unless one finds enjoyable escapism in creepy, eyeless monsters that like eating human babies.

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****  out of  ****

Helen Mirren’s performance as Queen Elizabeth II in Stephen Frears’ THE QUEEN is a bravura showcase of subdued and restrained focus.  She plays the famous monarch at the time when she was critically berated in the court of public opinion during one the most heartbreaking moments of recent British history.  What Mirren is able to do with such uncanny conviction is reveal a woman that has duplicitous and - at times - diametrically opposed loyalties.  It’s one of the best and most layered portrayals of royal figure that I have ever seen.

On one hand, Elizabeth is fiercely dedicated to the centuries-old customers and manners of the monarchy.  To her, a public life is not one to be put under a microscope.  On the same token, she also sees herself as a servant of her people, and her opinion is very difficult to sway even in the midst of overwhelming evidence that “her people” think that she is disastrously out of touch with their sensibilities.  As the country yearns for more modernistic approaches to propel them towards the future, the Queen still stands stoically by her principles and legacy, even when one in four in her country sees the monarchy as irrelevant. 

Why has her nation turned on her?  Perhaps it has a little something to do with the 1997 election of Great Britain’s new Labour Prime Minister, Tony Blair (Michael Sheen), who won in a landslide victory.  His goals were for radical change and to revolutionize how the country ran itself.  This was a bold and undeniably significant event in the recent history of the UK, a time during which the nation was just getting out of the grip of Thatcher and into the hands of a fresh and invigorating new leader that yearned for legitimate change in an age of indecision.  Blair spoke the words that the people wanted to hear, which lead to his strong popularity at the time.  Clearly, his ideology and youthful spunk and determination would bring him at odds with Elizabeth.

Disaster then struck when Diana, The Princess of Wales, was killed in a horrific car accident on August 31, 1997.  She was with her then lover, Dobi-Al Fayed and their intoxicated driver, Henri Paul, drove them into the Pont de l’Alma road tunnel where the car crashed into a barricade while trying to evade the paparazzi.  The effect of the her terrible demise could arguably be an event that has been permanently etched in the memories of those that loved and looked up to her, much in the same manner that J.F.K.’s death did.  I certainly recall the endless TV coverage and the enormous outpouring of utter sadness and shock that the people of the world displayed.  By the time of her engagement to the Prince of Wales in 1981 to her death 16 years later, Diana was one of the most famous women in the world.  She was an iconic presence noted for her style, grace, and philanthropic endeavors around the world.  Despite the fact that her public marriage to Charles ended in divorce which also divorced her from the monarchy, the public still saw her as a Princess.

Interestingly, THE QUEEN focuses on Diana’s death only as a crutch for the overall relationship between Tony Blair and Elizabeth II and their own respective one with the public.  When Diana’s death was announced, Blair rightfully stepped forward and provided his sympathies to the nation.  Now, Diana was no longer legally a princess, but Blair had the foresight to see that the public still saw her as royalty.  He came out in a memorable public speech and announced that Diana was “the people’s princess.”  The people of Great Britain appreciated Blair’s actions. 

What they didn’t appreciate was the fact the Elizabeth and the monarchy as a whole kept closed lipped about the whole event.  When the public demanded equal words of solace from the Queen as they got from Blair, they were shocked and outraged by her apparent lack of action.  Stubbornly, Elizabeth stood within the intense cocoon of doctrines and royal heritage that she and her predecessors held so dear.  Her steadfast loyalty to the monarchy first and common sense second – it could be argued – almost toppled the monarchy.

Yet, did the Queen have a point?  Theoretically, she had some legitimate reasons for her actions, or lack there of, after Diana’s death.  Firstly, Diana was officially divorced from the monarchy (“She is a private figure now, not a public one of the monarchy,” she says in the film).  In her mind, if Diana were still a royal presence, then a statement would have be issued.  Alas, she was not, so Elizabeth stood her ground.  She also has legitimacy in not wanting to fly the flag at half-mast at Buckingham Palace as a symbolic gesture.  She says it breaks tradition, and she’s right.  The flag is not the country’s, but her own, and it only is flown while she at the in residence.  Why, then, should she feel forced to break with tradition to appease public scrutiny?

Perhaps because it was simply just the right thing to do.  At least that’s how Blair sees it.  He is a clear-cut and obvious foil to the perpetually ignorant and sternly pro-tradition Queen, who thinks she’s in the right, but is far too foggy about the needs and wants of her people.  If anything, he represents a need for a pragmatist in government, especially in the aftermath of Diana’s death.  He feels the people’s resentment of the monarchy for their refusal to issue a statement.  He is also right in fearing that – in the long run – public resentment could destroy the monarchy.  The Queen simply does not see it this way.  She is used to a tradition and legacy of being loved by her people.  When she discovers that a quarter of her citizens feel she is no longer relevant, it’s a tough pill to swallow.  To her, Blair represents the “new” blood and she slowly begins to realize that – just maybe – she has lost all touch with those that she perceived admired her and her family.

On these levels, and many more, THE QUEEN is endlessly provocative as a character driven masterpiece.  Thankfully, Frears does not use the death of Diana as a catalyst to create a sensationalistic portrayal of the monarchy.  THE QUEEN could have been as odious as a gossip rag.  Fortunately, Frears uses the backdrop of one of the most famous deaths of recent history as a springboard to strongly hone in on the characters of the Queen and Blair.  The film is about tragedy, to be sure, but it’s more about how two people perceive the tragedy and act in its aftermath.  In a way, Frears is most concerned about what truly drives both individuals and the discrete – almost quite and illuminating – manner that he juxtaposes the two is intoxicating and involving.

In Blair, we see a much more personal and down-to-earth figure.  He’s perceptively more middle-class and is not a figure sheltered by an endless supply of servants and customs.  The Queen’s world is completely alien to him and – at first – he is at his wit’s end as to why the monarchy can’t simply come out and speak about Diana (“Will someone please save these people from themselves,” he pitifully screams at one point).  He can’t relate to the Queen’s doctrines and platitudes and has an even more difficult time understanding what he sees as disrespect towards the people by not doing anything.  He pleads with the Queen at time for action.  Blair knows that Elizabeth is not a woman to simply walk away from custom, but he has the perseverance to see that – dammit – fly the flag at half-mast to at least show the people you care and forget about stingy tradition.

The Queen is the complete anti-thesis to Blair as she is cold, detached, and has an almost chilling ambivalence to his constant questioning of her motives.  She is a figure that veils her contempt for Diana, but what she does not realize is that by not speaking about a dead public persona that was associated with the crown could ultimately ruin her.  The film is intrinsically challenging in asking the questions of whether the Queen ended up taking Blair’s advice because (a) she did feel sad about Diana’s death or (b) she could not stand the fact that she was no longer universally adored because of her inactions after Diana’s death.  Perhaps it’s a bit more of the latter, as she succumbs to Blair’s wishes for her to publicly address the nation when she realizes that everything she has lived for is snowballing down towards public disgrace.

Even more enthralling is the arc of Blair in the film, who at first eats up his advisors showing him press clippings of how the public considers him the political force to follow and not the Queen.  He uses his growing popularity to help propel the Queen to speak out on Diana.  The more Blair speaks out on Diana, the more he is hailed as a hero.  The less the Queen does, the more she is chastised as an unsympathetic and immoral figurehead.  However, as the film progresses Blair grows truly concerned about this paradigm shift in the public’s mind.  He does not see eye to eye with the monarchy, but he begins to grow distasteful of how the public is quick to chew up the royals.  He grows to respect the longstanding tradition of the crown.  When the Queen finally addresses the nation, he’s in curious state of awe.  “Now that’s power,” he says as he sees Elizabeth do something that originally went against everything she stood for. 

For Stephen Frears, THE QUEEN is an absolute triumph.  His past credits are eclectic and broad (he made DANGEROUS LIAISONS, THE GRIFTERS, and HIGH FIDELITY) and with THE QUEEN he again showcases his keen focus and resolve for understanding the emotional complexity of its themes and characters.  What I appreciated the most was how democratic he is with the subject matter.  THE QUEEN is not the complete and absolute evisceration of the monarchy as many expect it to be.  The film does attack the Queen’s lack of action in dealing with the death of Diana, but it also pays respect to the Royal family as a body that is an integral part of UK life.  These people may be stubborn beyond belief and their actions may display a wanton disregard for common sense, but their legacy is one of habitual formality that is not easily broken.  The Queen herself is also indicative of this: she is a proud woman with a proud history and – like it or not – she is a commendable persona for at least standing by her convictions.  For her to give her TV address and abide by Blair’s wishes most certainly was difficult for her.

The screenplay is lively, oftentimes brimming with light comedy, and is intelligent and perceptive.  This, of course, gives the actors a chance to shine.  Mirren is simply miraculous in the way she underplays her part for the right effect.  Her performance does not get bogged down into caricature and imitation.  Instead, she inhabits the underlining indecision that paralyzed the woman.  She intuitively displays all of the nuances of Elizabeth’s firm and icy adherence to royal policy as well as her disassociation with the public.  This is a woman that was raised to keep everything inside, and Mirren is spot on in showcasing the difficulty this woman has with capitulating to the public by displaying grief towards Diana’s death.  Perhaps even trickier is the role of Blair, played effortlessly by Michael Sheen, as a man that is both outwardly intimidated by the crown but is also a strong and brave political presence as well.  For him to stand up to the Crown – being one the youngest PM in British history - is noteworthy. 

Stephen Frears’ THE QUEEN is a masterstroke work in how he manages to both be critical and – ultimately – sympathetic to the British monarchy during a time while they were dealing with the death of princess Diana.  It dissolves the enigmatic aura that has permeated the monarchy and instead gives us an inside and intimate look at how they are fiercely loyal to their customs, even when their loyalties are easily held under criticism.  The film is subtle, sly, and sophisticated in how it deals with royal manners and customs alongside the emergence of Tony Blair’s Labour Party as a new direction for British politics.  THE QUEEN invites us into its backstage political personas and places them in a compelling and didactic morality play.  It allows us to relate to how two opposite powers respond to crisis, and with the solid and finely tuned direction of Frears and the hauntingly delicate and understated performance by the brilliant Helen Mirren, THE QUEEN is one of 2006’s most shrewd and gently moving films.

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