WRITER'S NOTE: The following is a collection of reviews posted on my Instagram page @film_freeq in 2022. They’ve been organized by their initial theatrical release dates.
Cronos (1993)
The directorial debut of visionary auteur Guillermo del Toro is a unique and richly-detailed spin on the vampire subgenre. I'm usually squeamish about such films, but this one is exceptional, to a degree. Not to say Cronos is without its own nerve-inducing moments, of which there are many. The story involves an elderly antique shop owner who, along with his granddaughter, discovers a mechanical device that promises eternal life. Like an equally-ancient monkey's paw, however, it comes at a great cost. The result is a haunting tale of aging, death, and immortality, that is bittersweet, melancholy, macabre (i.e., the impressive makeup effects, and a key scene where lead actor Federico Luppi literally links blood off a bathroom floor), and ultimately tragic. Del Toro's signature blend of fantasy, horror, violence, and drama are evident (and piercing) from the get-go.
Mimic (1997)
The 1990s had a plethora of thrilling-though-forgettable movies involving natural disasters, insane action, and creepy critters. This insect-centered fright-fest, about scientists who use cockroach DNA to cure a deadly virus, is one of them. Guillermo del Toro has gone on record that this is the one film of his that he regrets the most. As another reported case of studio interference (i.e., convoluted jump cuts and plot holes, as well as some poor editing), I can't say I blame del Toro. Despite some impressive shots, gritty cinematography, some committed performances (including Mira Sorvino), and an all-around eerie atmosphere (ditto some truly gross-out creature effects), this body horror movie falls short. At least it's an improvement over that year's more unnecessary (and downright pornographic) sci-fi sequel Alien: Resurrection. But that's far from a recommendation.
The Devil's Backbone (2001)
Guillermo del Toro's third feature film (and only his second made in his native Mexico) is a haunting supernatural period piece set during the end of the Spanish Civil War. The story follows a young boy who is sent to an orphanage and soon discovers its dark secrets, including a ghost child that haunts the underground tunnels. Equal parts historical fiction, horror, and drama, The Devil's Backbone represents one-half of a companion piece alongside del Toro's subsequent 2006 feature, Pan's Labyrinth. Full of poetic imagery consisting of blood, water, u-bombs, and occasional religious iconography, this dark drama sinks into disturbing territory, including eerie sights of babies with eponymous backbones in mason jars, as well as adult orphans letting loose the monsters within. How's that for a scary story?
Blade trilogy (1998, 2002, 2004)
Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness may be the MCU's first true entry into horror. But it's hardly the first movie from Marvel to fully embrace the genre. Back in the late-1990s, New Line Cinema released a live-action adaptation of the popular half-man/half-immortal vampire hunter Blade. Played with gusto and full commitment by Wesley Snipes, that first film from 1998 was arguably the first time a black superhero headlined a surprise box-office hit. From its opening nightclub bloodbath to its climactic occult standoff, Blade was dynamic, dark, and bloody, effortlessly combining mythology, history, and spirituality in a gritty story that pitted the titular hero against an impending force of evil.
Four years later, Guillermo del Toro injected new life into the franchise with Blade II. In this 2002 sequel, Blade is called in by an opposing vampire army to stop an even deadlier enemy (complete with bizarre tentacled fangs). Full of high-octane martial-arts action and visual symbolism (a latter trademark del Toro excels in), Blade II is agreeably the best in the series, aesthetically speaking. It's certainly the most layered, coolest, and most graphic. (Some images are very nerve-wracking, to be sure.)
2004's Blade: Trinity turned out to be the weakest entry. Snipes was reportedly furious behind the scenes; he and writer-director David S. Goyer (who penned the first two movies) didn't get along, while the actor took issue with the script's emphasis on supporting stars Ryan Reynolds and Jessica Beil rather than his own character's arc. Ironically, Reynolds (who made his live-action comic-book film debut here, as Hannibal King) was considered by many to be the best part of this otherwise disappointing, standard-issue superhero movie, which involved a resurrected Count Dracula and Blade being hunted by the FBI. It'll be interesting to see how actor Mahershala Ali breathes new life into the titular character in the MCU soon.
Hellboy DOUBLE FEATURE (2004, 2008)
Not counting Blade II or The Hobbit film series, the only cinematic franchise that Guillermo del Toro has been thoroughly involved in were his adaptations of artist-writer Mike Mignola's half-demon character Hellboy, first published in Dark Horse Comics in the early-1990s. In a 2021 career retrospect, del Toro claimed that the most interesting thing about Mignola's series was how it seamlessly combined fantasy, mythology, and blue-collar humor. Watching the first film, it's easy to see why. In fact, it was that blue-collar sensibility that convinced the visionary director that veteran character actor Ron Perlman was the only one who could do the character justice--and why del Toro fought for years to get the film made.
Released by Joe Roth's Revolution Studios in 2004, Hellboy brims with highly-imaginative and grotesque creatures, visual flair, and a fitting role for Perlman to clench his fists into. The same goes for its first-rate supporting cast, including John Hurt's Professor Bruttenholm, Doug Jones' Abe Sapien (voiced by an uncredited David Hyde Pierce), and Selma Blair's Liz Sherman. (One of our favorite lines: "There are things that go bump in the night, and we are the ones who bump back.")
When del Toro returned for the Universal-distributed 2008 sequel, Hellboy II: The Golden Army, he (with story support from Mignola) was given more creative freedom, as well as room for more comedy on Perlman's part. Featuring intense and well-choreographed fight sequences reminiscent of Blade II and a strange moment where an intoxicated Red and Abe karaoke to Barry Manilow, this ambitious follow-up also features the scene-stealing, German-accented Dr. Kraus (voiced by Seth MacFarlane).
While not as bad as they could have been, considering their strong, if ironic, thematic drives (i.e., what was intended for evil can be changed for the sake of good), both films can still be misguided as far as their spiritual content is concerned.
Pan's Labyrinth (2006)
Like many conventional moviegoers, foreign/international films were not my cup of tea as a younger man. (Not getting passed the subtitles was a general excuse.) My perspective on the matter changed when I first saw Guillermo del Toro's haunting feature, Pan's Labyrinth. Critically-acclaimed upon its release, I was immediately captivated and stunned by its story of an imaginative little girl, named Ofelia, who moves with her pregnant mother to live with her step-father (a sadistic and fascist captain). Discovering a mysterious labyrinth at her new home, Ofelia learns she may or may not be the lost princess of a bygone kingdom, and must complete three tasks to prove herself.
Combining magical realism with brutal period warfare (the story is set in the early-1940s, following the Spanish Civil War), this wholly original film is a dark and violent fantasy, and certainly not for children. For its targeted adult audience, and especially in a decade that saw a resurgence in the genre, it represents a layered and strong entry about escapism, beauty, and horror in both the magical and real worlds. Set pieces involving the titular faun and the terrifying pale man, both played brilliantly by American actor Doug Jones, are some of the film's highlights. Ditto Guillermo Navarro's amazing cinematography and Javier Navarrete's unforgettable score. Simply put, Pan's Labyrinth is del Toro's masterpiece.
Pacific Rim (2013)
Already a few years into the 2010s, cinemas continued their post-modern trend of being over-saturated with big-screen extravaganzas heavy on visual effects and action, and short on substance and character. Such was the preconceived notion with Guillermo del Toro's 2013 kaiju-/animé-inspired romp about Transformers-sized robots duking it out with Godzilla-sized monsters in a futuristic setting. But guess what? It turned out to be an exception to the rule, especially with the visionary filmmaker behind the camera. With an intriguing mythology, impeccable design (the robotic Jaegers are the film's visual highlight), plausible technology, attention-to-detail physics (a few set pieces were done practically), and compelling character arcs (its cast includes Charlie Hunnam, Idris Elba, Rinko Kikuchi, Charlie Day, and del Toro regular Ron Perlman), Pacific Rim is, in two words, really cool.
TRIVIAL FACT: This film came about after del Toro exited the live-action version of J.R.R. Tolkien's The Hobbit (which he was slated to direct, but stayed on as co-writer and conceptual artist). Would've been amazing to see his interpretation, but that's another story.
Crimson Peak (2015)
Guillermo del Toro took on the subgenre of gothic horror with this exquisite and haunting period fiction piece. Mia Wasikowska plays an aspiring writer who moves with her new husband (Tom Hiddleston) to his estate, and soon discovers its dark secrets. Equally played as a haunted house feature, Crimson Peak has lavish production design and art direction, with the eponymous mansion as the film's centerpiece. It's also well-acted, thanks to Wasikowska, Hiddleston, and Jessica Chastain's performances. But this being Gothic horror, it's also very bloody and creepy, with elements of murder investigations, adultery, and secret schemes. So it's no surprise that red and white play a significant role in the film's color palette. Talk about chilling.
The Shape of Water (2017)
The setting is the 1960s during the Cold War era, and the main character is a mute custodian who meets and falls in love with an aquatic creature. That's the basic premise of Guillermo del Toro's genre-bending romance-fantasy. Despite critical praise and winning numerous accolades (including Oscars for Best Picture--the first time in 14 years that a "fantasy" film was awarded the top prize--and Best Director--del Toro became the third Mexican filmmaker in the decade to win), I don't believe The Shape of Water is the director's best film. (That distinction goes to Pan's Labyrinth.) Sure, The Shape of Water is extremely well-acted (the superb cast includes Sally Hawkins, Octavia Spencer, Michael Shannon, Richard Jenkins, and Doug Jones) and masterfully crafted, combining elements from The Creature From the Black Lagoon, Beauty and the Beast, and Amelie, but in a way that is distinctly del Toro.
The film's problematic content (protagonist Elisa and the Amphibian man develop not only an emotional relationship, but also a physical and sexual one) unfortunately puts this otherwise creative and endearing story of empathy, bigotry and immigration, out of bounds. To reiterating what I wrote in 2018, "What are we to make of this in a culture that currently brings awareness to sexual misconduct, complicity, and exploitation? Is on-screen nudity really any different?" (You can read my full review from 2017 here.)
Nightmare Alley (2021)
Del Toro next dipped his toes into the genre of film noir with the haunting adaptation of William Lindsay Gresham's novel (which was previously made into a full-length feature in 1947). As one of the year's Best Picture Oscar nominees, del Toro's trademarks are on full display in this story of a manipulative carny who, one day, crosses paths with a female psychiatrist that may be more conniving than him. Everything from the film's lavish production design and artistry, strong lighting effects and shadows, skilled direction, grotesque imagery (some involving Mason jars), and engrossing characters and performances (Bradley Cooper and Cate Blanchett remind us why they're some of the greatest actors of their generation) is tonally consistent, resulting in a thematic slow-burn. Personally, it's an improvement over del Toro's previous film, The Shape of Water, certainly from a visual and visceral perspective.
But because this qualifies as a psychological thriller (as if the title wasn't any indication), it moves in directions that are shocking and emotionally damaging. (One scene involving suicide is especially sad.) Other themes, besides deception, include affairs, murder, secrets, and misguided spirituality. Del Toro is a master filmmaker and craftsman, no doubt. But this (like many of his other films) is an alley most should think twice about before walking down.
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| Review for Guillermo del Toro's Pinocchio (2022) coming soon |
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