Like Schindler’s List, Only Not As Uplifting!

I went to see Pan’s Labyrinth this weekend. It's a highly-acclaimed fantasy film that takes place in the mountains of Spain during World War II. Everything the critics say is true: it’s beautifully filmed, wonderfully acted, intricately scripted. In short, it’s a very good film.

But I left the theater wishing I hadn’t gone to see it. My buddy and I were talking about why, and she put it better than I could.

She felt emotionally manipulated, and there was no redemption. There was no knowledge gained, no emotional insight achieved. In short, we were not in a better place in any way than we had been when we entered the theater, and we both had stomach aches.

If you want to have your guts ripped out by a nasty-truth laden, WWII-era flick, then you should at least, in our minds, come away having learned something or having acquired a new perspective. This film did neither.

It just wrung us out and left us to cry.

No, thanks.


[I also watched the new BBC (Masterpiece Theater) version of Jane Eyre last week, and that, my friends, is a good piece of filmography. Finally, a Jane and Rochester who had passion – they burnt up the screen, practically – and who told the story fairly close to the book. This I may just have to buy on DVD.]

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