Doug Jones and Ivana Baquero in PAN'S LABYRINTH. Photo by TERESA ISASI.

Doug Jones and Ivana Baquero in PAN’S LABYRINTH. Photo by TERESA ISASI.

Guillermo del Toro's anti-fascist fairytale Pan's Labyrinth is Mexico's submission to the Oscars’ Best Foreign Language category this year, though the picture’s set in Spain during the oppressive Franco regime.  Pan’s has already gathered Critic Circle awards and numerous nominations and accolades while on the festival circuit, and it is bound to draw new converts now that it has opened nationally.

Del Tormo is one of those rare filmmakers who, like Paul Verhoeven or Alfonso Cuarón, possesses such a profoundly inimitable vision that he can effortlessly jump from large studio pictures to his own smaller fare with ease.  His previous films prove this beyond a shadow of a doubt: the likes of Cronos and The Devil’s Backbone were certainly smaller, almost art films in comparison to Mimic, Hellboy, or Blade II.

I had an opportunity to sit down with the director recently in which we discussed Pan’s Labyrinth, Franco’s Spain, and the existence of evil in the world today.

Michael Guillén:  Pan's Labyrinth is textured with redemptive transgression.  Can you speak to why doing the wrong thing ends up being so right?

Guillermo del Toro, director of PAN'S LABYRINTH. Photo by TERESA ISASI

Guillermo del Toro, director of PAN’S LABYRINTH. Photo by TERESA ISASI


MG:  Why do you tend to eroticize cruelty?  Your villains are thrillingly virile.  First, Eduardo Noriega in The Devil's Backbone and now Sergi López in Pan's Labyrinth.

GDT:  Well, it's the revenge of the guy who grew up being a chubby, not-very-attractive guy.  That's the revenge of the nerd.  One of the dangers of fascism and one of the dangers of true evil in our world—which I believe exists—is that…it is incredibly attractive in a way that most people negate.  Most people make their villains ugly and nasty, and I think, No: fascism has a whole concept of design, and a whole concept of uniforms and set design that made it attractive to the weak-willed.  I tried to make Sergi López like all politicians that are truly evil: well-dressed, well-groomed, well-spoken, gets up from his chair when a lady enters [and leaves] the room.  [W]hen somebody is that worried about the outward appearance, there's something truly wrong within.  The opposite is often true. 

MG:  All of your previous films have a fairly prevalent and overt use of Catholic imagery, but Pan's Labyrinth almost completely avoids it, and yet your friend Iñarrítu said that this is probably your most Catholic film.


MG:  Another thematic image that I kept picking up from Pan's Labyrinth involves the relationship between Ofelia and the character of Mercedes. 


MG:  Not to give too much away, but there is a dispute going on among people who have seen your film:  Was Ofelia in her fantasy world?  Was it a real world?

Maribel Verdú and Ivana Baquero in PAN'S LABYRINTH. Photo by TERESA ISASI

Maribel Verdú and Ivana Baquero in PAN’S LABYRINTH. Photo by TERESA ISASI



GDT:  Objectively, those two clues tell you it's real.  The third clue is she's running away from her stepfather, she reaches a dead end, by the time he shows up she's not there.  Because the walls open for her.  So, sorry: there are clues that tell you where I stand and I stand by the fantasy.  Those are objective things if you want.  The film is a Rorschach test of where people stand.