Definitive Directors: Guillermo del Toro
Definitive Directors: Guillermo del Toro
by Ben Bussey
It might seem incongruous, after the first two Definitive Directors articles celebrated the work of two independent filmmakers working on the comparative fringe of the industry, to now give similar treatment to a world-renowned director with several eight-figure budget films under his belt so far and doubtless more to come. But great filmmaking is great filmmaking, be it studio or independent, mainstream or underground, multiplex or arthouse. And one of the greatest things about Guillermo del Toro, one of the principle reasons he is a definitive director working in horror today and playing a significant role in defining the future of the genre, is that his work crosses all those aforementioned boundaries. For the bulk of his career thus far he has alternated between low-budget, intimate, personal projects and high-profile blockbuster gigs, and the further he has gone the closer he has come to merging those two identities.
The term ‘auteur’ tends to get bandied around so haphazardly that its actual meaning often seems to get lost, so if you’ll excuse me getting a bit didactic I’d just like to give its definition, and in so doing explain why it’s applicable to del Toro (though I have no doubt I’m damaging my credibility by quoting Wikipedia): a director who “exerts such a distinctive style or promotes such a consistent theme that his or her influence is unmistakable in the body of his or her work.” True to this, there are clear thematic and stylistic links between all del Toro’s films: an abundance of cavernous, underground spaces; a fascination with insects and the insect-like; a longing for the enchantment of childhood and the imagination that is lost in the face of the mundane; a heartfelt Catholic morality, combined with an insatiable interest in pre-Christian myth and folklore; the contrasts between humans and monsters, with a large question mark over which species is really worse. Even in his least heartfelt and least satisfactory work (i.e. Mimic), these core elements are present.
Choosing two films that best represent del Toro’s work is at once simple and difficult, as his films can and indeed have been quite easily separated into two camps: his small, personal, Spanish-language films (Cronos, The Devil’s Backbone, Pan’s Labyrinth) and his Hollywood blockbusters (Mimic, Blade II, the Hellboy films). Well, in this case I’ll defer to the man himself, and as he has stated that his last two directorial efforts are his personal favourites, I’ll focus on those.
Pan’s Labyrinth (2006)
Few would dispute that this is del Toro’s greatest work to date. Enchanting and disturbing in equal measure, the film is rooted in two of del Toro’s key fascinations: fairy tales and the Spanish civil war. The film tells of a young girl named Ofelia who relocates with her sickly pregnant mother to a remote military encampment, where they are to live with her mother’s new husband, the ruthless fascist Captain Vidal. The camp sits in the heart of the woods with an ancient, crumbling stone labyrinth nearby. Guided into the labyrinth by fairies in the dead of night, Ofelia meets a faun who informs her she is the lost princess of a magical underground kingdom, and must perform several tasks to regain her throne. This she sets about doing, while in the human world violence between the fascists and the resistance intensifies.
The easiest interpretation of the film would be that Ofelia’s magical quest is entirely a delusion; a means by which she escapes the harsh realities of the situation she is unwillingly caught up in. However, this is to overlook a great deal. There is as much about the magic underworld that is horrific and oppressive as there is about the war-torn surface world. Del Toro and his frequent cinematographer Guillermo Navarro do not seem to treat the ‘real’ world or the ‘fantasy’ world particularly differently; both are dark, cold places, framed and lit similarly, and when the various strange creatures appear they do not seem out of place (owing at least in part to the masterful balance of practical FX and CGI, another area in which del Toro’s films excel). Perhaps most notably, there are certain key moments in which the human world does seem to have been genuinely touched by magic: notably, when the mandrake root Ofelia places under her mother’s bed does seem to make her mother better.
Another recurring motif in del Toro’s films is a clear empathy with monsters, which is conveyed in large part by showing the evil of which humanity is capable. You’d be hard pressed to find a better example of that than Vidal. No exaggeration, Sergi Lopez is terrifying as the savage captain, whose acts of cruelty are truly shocking to behold, and whose constant clock-watching serves as a simple but haunting representation of the fascist obsession with order. To see so meek and innocent a child as Ofelia put under the guardianship of such a repugnant man is chilling indeed, and the young Ivana Baquero conveys that innocence beautifully, giving an utterly compelling performance as Ofelia. Rounding things off, Maribel Verdú is equally extraordinary as the resistance spy in Vidal’s household. (Such is the raw emotional power of her performance, it’s enough to make me stop reminiscing about how incredible she looked naked in Y Tu Mamá También.)
Hellboy II: The Golden Army (2008)
Opinion is a little more divided on this one, and indeed all del Toro’s glossier big-budget productions, with some decrying them as bog-standard, FX-dominated, child-oriented Hollywood fare. But let’s take a step back and look at this again. This is a film in which the hero is, in no uncertain terms, the harbinger of the apocalypse. We are reminded time and again that he is a child of the fallen one, sent to the earth to bring about its destruction. In the process of the film we see this hero condemn several species of magical being to extinction; we see his lover (a human, incidentally) choosing his survival over that of the human race; and his best friend also willing to condemn the world for the sake of one woman’s love. The credits may cheerily roll to the dulcet tones of Barry Manilow, but scratch the surface and it’s clear that Hellboy II ends on a major, major down-note. I don’t think the same can be said of too many PG-13 comic book blockbusters.
The aforementioned empathy with monsters really comes to the forefront in this film, even more so than the original Hellboy. With John Hurt’s octogenarian Professor Bruttenholm dead (although briefly resurrected for the prologue) and Rupert Evans’ Agent Myers casually written out (no one having wanted him around in the first place), the only prominent human character returning here is Jeffrey Tambor’s Agent Manning, a staggeringly mundane bureaucrat; and I mean that in the nicest possible way to Tambor, who does terrific work. The stars of the show are clearly the inhumans, from Hellboy, Liz (okay, I called her human before but as a firestarter she belongs more with the other side, don’t you think?), Abe and Johann to the elves Nuada and Nuala, the beastly Mr. Wink, the bone-chilling Angel of Death and more besides. Such love and attention to detail has gone into these creations, most of which are again realised with a refreshing emphasis on practical FX in harmony with the judicious use of limited CG. So compelling is their mystic alternate reality, the audience – like Hellboy himself – may ponder whether Nuada is right to declare war against humanity; to fight for the survival of wonder.
This level of personal feeling is Hellboy II’s greatest strength, and it’s just enough to make you overlook the many various things within the film that don’t completely work. Tonally and structurally it’s very similar to both its predecessor and Blade II (having Luke Goss play essentially the same character doesn’t help in that regard); the goofier humour tends to fall flat, i.e. Abe and Hellboy getting drunk and sentimental; and in terms of narrative it all feels rather like filler material, building things up for a third instalment which, alas, doesn’t look likely to happen (as Hellboy creator Mike Mignola recently declared).
Del Toro’s professional woes since Hellboy II have been well-documented. After spending roughly two years on hold as various rights and funding issues prevented The Hobbit from being made (a project which I was frankly never happy to see him take on), he recently saw his long cherished dream project At The Mountains Of Madness also get shit-canned. After all this, the announcement of giant monster sci-fi movie Pacific Rim as his next film has been met with a somewhat muted response. But we can hardly accuse del Toro of resting on his laurels since 2008. Amongst other things he’s co-written a trilogy of novels, The Strain, has been working to get a new TV series of The Hulk off the ground, and has produced a wide range of unusual films including The Orphanage, Splice, Julia’s Eyes and the upcoming Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark, which he also co-wrote. Blimey. And I get tired enough just trying to keep on top of my workload for this flippin’ website.
He certainly is a busy fellow; perhaps too busy, as Mike Mignola intimates. In line with Mignola’s sentiments, the most common complaint of del Toro is the unrelenting manner in which his potential future projects get announced. Be it Frankenstein, or Jekyll and Hyde, or The Haunted Mansion, or The Witches, or most recently Beauty and the Beast (assuming there haven’t been any more I’ve missed in the past couple of weeks)… the list goes on, with a seemingly endless number of films in development with his name attached in some capacity, resulting in an entirely reasonable incredulity as to just how many of these damn films will actually get made. The key thing to note, however, is the nature of all these projects. Yes, del Toro plays in the big leagues with the major studios and a shit-ton of money floating around, but all these films have at least an element of horror and/or the supernatural about them. Remember how he pitched At The Mountains of Madness: “I believe it’s time to resurrect the big tentpole horror movie. The event horror movie. Like The Exorcist was or The Shining or Alien or Jaws in their time.” While it’s impossible to say right now whether that particular pet project of his will ever get made (though I should damn well hope after Pacific Rim that Legendary/Warners will have the balls that Universal lack to give it the greenlight), this same overall philosophy informs all his work. As such, del Toro is arguably doing more than any other filmmaker today to promote the horror genre in the broader popular consciousness. And he is making damn fine films in the process. Long may this continue, say I.
