Friday, August 7, 2015

del Toro's Falange




The outer framework of Pan's Labyrinth, one where the brother of Mercedes, Pedro, is tactically successful against Vidal, this has a ring of wish fulfillment for del Toro, as modern Spain is one geographic location where Philip K Dick's alternative timelines are a quiet reality rarely given any attention. Who cares about crumbling Catholic edifices in Europe's once mighty Catholic regime? The partisans must have had some victories, and perhaps Vidal's execution has a basis in reality, but Franco's legacy lives in the country that conquered and reshaped central and South America. 

Only when I saw the opening of the film after Prime suggested it did I recall Ebert's sated appetite for great artistry in film, and the deceased critic's contention that a great movie is the most elevating aesthetic has a powerful advocate in del Toro's masterpiece, but it is a masterpiece forged in respect for Spain's literary traditions. If the French utilize decorum as a coping mechanism, Spaniards use sleep dream states as an anesthetic, and Pan's Labyrinth applies chloroform to our breathing apparatus in spades, and as such, is not for everyone, with its saturated melancholy, one which takes its time, builds, and even suggests the dowager need not stream, in mortal ennui, for some time to come.

Was there anything worthwhile in Vidal? I liked him, as of course I would, unrepentant, but as I am posting this in an archive timeline, as yet unbroken, I will not proclaim myself heir apparent to Falange intellectualism.

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