Pan’s Labyrinth: A Grim Fairy Tale for Grim Times
***Warning: The following article may contain spoilers.***
Ofelia: How do I know that what you say is true?
Faun: Why would a poor little faun like me lie to you?
Pan’s Labyrinth was ranked by many critics as one of the best films of 2006, and it’s not difficult to see why. Del Toro expertly intertwines a reality darkened by the brutalities of war with a mirrored fantastical universe featuring its own share of disconcerting monsters in an exquisitely beautiful visual masterpiece that demonstrates fairy tales are not confined to the realms of youth. Many interpretations of Pan’s Labyrinth focus on the political commentary structured as a fairy tale, or the blending of mysticism and reality. However, this grim fantasy also provides a fascinating, and presently much needed, perspective on faith and power.
Ofelia’s question, quoted above, and the faun’s subsequent response, piqued my interest for two reasons. The first is that Ofelia asks this question after she has already completed the first task. (More precisely, this dialogue appears halfway through the film just after the faun hands Ofelia the chalk she needs to complete her second task.) Ofelia so desperately wants to believe in the world of fairies, magic, and kingdoms she reads about that when she first discovers the labyrinth and meets the faun, she accepts her purported identity as long lost princess Moanna with minimal skepticism. She is not unnerved by the faun’s uncanny appearance, its lack of explanation, nor its strange instructions to complete three potentially life-threatening tasks.
My purpose is not to question the plausibility of the plot, nor to debate the reality of the alternate universe. Del Toro himself has stated in an interview that he planted three clues to indicate that the fantasy world Ofelia discovers is, in fact, real. However, regardless of how unambiguous the hints may be, in the end it does not matter whether or not the fantasy is real — it only matters that Ofelia believes in it. The delayed timing of her question only reinforces this notion. She finds a sense of purpose in the the three tasks assigned to her and the hope that the successful completion of the tasks will provide her a path to escape the nightmarish reality she resides in. For that, Ofelia is willing to suspend any lingering disbelief.
Irrespective of whether Ofelia is experiencing delusions or has truly descended to the subterranean world from which she originated, Ofelia finds ultimate solace in her belief that such a kingdom exists. She takes comfort in her corporeal death knowing that she has passed the final, and most difficult, task of sacrificing herself to save her innocent brother, and is resuming her rightful place on the throne besides her parents. Meanwhile, Mercedes and the other rebels who are present in Ofelia’s final moments on earth mourn her death for they lack any awareness the fantasy world that Ofelia passes through.
But while Mercedes remains beyond the reaches of consolation provided by the fantasy world, she finds purpose and a form of salvation in the rebel cause much in the same way Ofelia was drawn to the faun’s instructions. She cleans, cooks, and caters to an anthropoid monster despite not condoning Vidal’s ideology. It appears that the small acts of assistance she performs for the rebels prevents both of the only two options presented to one in her situation: a descent into insanity caused by the moral conflict in her duties, and an implicit submission to Vidal’s modus operandi.
The parallels between Ofelia’s attraction to the underworld and Mercedes’s dedication to the rebel cause are clear — they both provide hope, a moral compass, and the courage to defy the despotism exercised by Vidal in his residence. Yet the underworld is, well, the setting of a fairy tale, and the rebel cause, despite demonstrating a few successes, is fighting an uphill battle against a significantly more organized and resource-laden opponent.
Perhaps that is disillusioning for some. We would all like to think that our beliefs are rooted in some fundamental truth. But Pan’s Labyrinth, by explicitly blurring the line between fantasy and reality, underscores the subjective nature of our perceptions of the “real world”. The doctrine we subscribe to need not be universally accepted, or stand up to the most rigorous tests of science and rationality. After all, the realities we live in are all unique and irreproducible anyways.
Anything and anyone can serve as the basis for a system of faith, purpose, and morality. It could be something as seemingly insignificant and individual as a pet or a loved one, or an ideology as widespread as the religions of Christianity and Hinduism. If you have found something by which to guide your life and actions, that is enough. More than enough.
The second particularly interesting aspect of the introductory quote is the faun’s insinuation that one without power or status would have no incentive to lie. There is clearly no logical foundation to such a claim — the faun could be delivering a false statement on behalf of a superior, malicious being, or the faun itself could have ulterior motives for convincing Ofelia to do his bidding. As it turns out, the faun does deceive her about the true nature of her final task, and the dual casting of the faun and the pale man suggests that the pale man is either an alternative incarnation or creation of the faun. And ironically, the faun wields magical capabilities far beyond the imagination of even the most powerful mortal. Yet the faun’s appeal to its seemingly powerless position provides a satisfactory rationalization for Ofelia’s trust.
Mercedes echoes this sentiment when she is captured by Captain Vidal during her attempted escape. After tying her up, Vidal feels comfortable remaining alone with Mercedes because “for God’s sake, she’s just a woman”, to which Mercedes responds, “that’s what you always thought. That’s why I was able to get away with it. I was invisible to you.” Clearly a visage of impotence actually serves as a highly effective cover, as Mercedes is able to impart immense bodily harm on Vidal before escaping yet again.
Perhaps the faun is truly just a minion of the underworld and Mercedes’ escapade is merely a reiteration of David and Goliath. But nonetheless, both the faun and Mercedes, among several other characters in the film, demonstrate the subtle and often underestimated power inherent in every individual.
We need not think we are helpless or ineffective merely because our authority or abilities pale in comparison to others — especially because it is when we underestimate our own capacities to take action or enact change that we are most limited.
Our present moment is plagued by political, social, environmental, and even physical strains that can simultaneously feel harrowing and distant. Especially after six months of quarantine, I’ve been finding myself slipping occasionally into periods of extreme self-doubt and hopelessness. Yet I found Pan’s Labyrinth to be a surprisingly inspiring work of art. This film will undoubtedly become a classic, and whether you watched it when it first came out or haven’t ever seen it, I highly recommend Pan’s Labyrinth for your next movie night. Your two hours will be very well spent.
