By Jonathan Pacheco
[Hellboy II opens wide today. Click here to read Ted Pigeon's Take 2 on the film.]
While waiting in line for the screening of Hellboy II: The Golden Army, I overhead someone say that Guillermo del Toro's latest is being seen as his audition tape for The Hobbit. He'd already gotten the gig before Hellboy II's release, but I imagine that the Mexican filmmaker pulled out some edited footage to show to Peter Jackson & Co. when bidding for the Tolkien prequel. Plenty of fans have already been sold on del Toro's ability to handle a project with the style and magnitude of The Hobbit, but I've felt that some of his more recent endeavors have failed to live up to their potential. Blade II was a very solid upgrade for that franchise, but I was burned by both the under-developed Pan's Labyrinth and the bogged-down first Hellboy. In Hellboy II, I was looking for a reason to believe in del Toro and, if anything, he does manage to give viewers a substantial hint of what to expect in Middle Earth.
A Golden Army of indestructible machines lies hidden and dormant, waiting for someone to awaken and command them; the Elfen Prince Nuada (Luke Goss) is just crazy enough to take on this quest, seeking to snatch any chance of power from the unworthy race of humans. Elsewhere, the main characters from Hellboy—four years removed from the events of the first film—are comfortable in their own world, but still wary of the humans outside, and it's starting to wear on them. There's life beyond their walls, and life beyond the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense, but will these creatures—these heroes—ever be allowed to pursue it?
At one point there's a shot of Liz Sherman (Selma Blair) with a not-so-subtle banner hanging in the background that reads, "A Big Decision." It's true, many of these characters are faced with big decisions. Does Liz share her life-altering secret with Hellboy (Ron Perlman, who I can't get enough of)? How much is Abe Sapien (Doug Jones) willing to sacrifice for someone that he loves? And Hellboy ... well, Hellboy's story doesn't have the requisite "big decision," and the filmmakers seem to realize this halfway through when they force a quandary onto his story arc. Like an over-the-shoulder devil to our endearing demon, Prince Nuada attempts to convince Hellboy that the creatures he hunts, including Nuada himself, are the last of their kind. Why rob the world of the opportunity to see these creatures and gods that are nearly extinct? This is meant to somehow build upon Hellboy and Liz's earlier disappointment at the freakshow treatment they receive from the very people they rescue, but it's a plot element that doesn't really connect and is ultimately abandoned.
Hellboy II sputters at the start thanks to some extremely poor dubbing, forced jokes, and a peculiar opening sequence. The film's storybook prelude tells the tale of the Golden Army as a bedtime story; the sequence is interesting, creative, and well-made, but I have an itching feeling that it may be in the wrong film. I'm not sure if I take issue with the child-friendly presentation of the story (a sort of stop-motion sequence with wooden puppets) as much as its content. It leans heavily toward the folklore end of things, upsetting the film's balance. It's tonally out of place and feels more like a demonstration of ideas for The Hobbit than an integral part of Hellboy II.
Similarly, towards the end of the film a character shows up who almost single-handedly sidetracks the entire movie for a mythological interlude. It is mildly interesting, but it jarred me to see such a heavy emphasis on lore appear out of nowhere, and it's tonal shifts like these that hinder Hellboy II more than help it. While some of del Toro's other films pursue mythology or science fiction exclusively, the Hellboy films are faced with the unique task of juggling folklore with fantasy with science fiction with graphic novel action. I can appreciate the difficulty of such an undertaking, but when the film strays, it shows.
Del Toro provides his viewers with a lot to chew on visually as the film whisks us from modern urban surroundings to cave bazaars to a throne room where petals drop from above in a never-ending rain (resembling an arena from a Soul Caliber game). This world is densely populated with beings so inventively designed that they command you to look closer at every salient detail. In this regard, Hellboy II draws influence from both del Toro's own work and the work of his peers. Sources of inspiration for creatures and monsters range from the long blubbery faces and hunched necks of Star Wars creatures to the pale vampire breeds of Blade II to, of course, the trolls and goblins that populate The Lord of the Rings.
I've always felt that a rough patch in every Guillermo del Toro film is the execution of CGI. The effects are always just "kind of decent," and unfortunately, "kind of decent" can take you out of a film very quickly, even if only for a moment. Yet in Hellboy II, it isn't until the final sequence that the CG becomes noticeable, and what I noticed in that moment was that I hadn't been noticing it. For the most part, I couldn't discern when Hellboy II's creatures were men in suits and when they were computer-generated. It felt like a big step forward not only for this particular filmmaker, but for the technology as well, and I feel almost happy for del Toro that he pulls off visual strokes here that he's always attempted but hardly ever attained.
A more significant lesson learned between the two films has to do with their villains: this time around, they actually have personality. While in the first film, del Toro struggled to make even the main baddie remotely interesting, Hellboy II is rich with interesting creatures, minions, and evil-doers. And it's not restricted to the bad guys alone; even the heroes are more interesting, all the boring characters weeded out. With Hellboy II, del Toro has gotten much closer to creating what I've always craved from him: a fully-realized world. The universe of the first Hellboy seemed too bland, and while Blade II did an honorable job with its mythos, the world of Pan's Labyrinth's was paper-thin. But once again, I see del Toro's success with Hellboy II as a stepping stone leading to The Hobbit, where rich and fleshed-out worlds are imperative and essential. And that's what we're all looking forward to, isn't it?
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Jonathan Pacheco is a current web developer and future freelance writer. He blogs and reviews films at Bohemian Cinema.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Hellboy II: The Golden Army—Take 1
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15 comments:
"Under-developed" Pan's Labyrinth?!!!!!!
What?!
Explain yourself!!!!!
Nice take. I've had the same feelings about del Toro -- always tantalized but never quite sold. Yet I can never stop giving him another chance, so I'll surely see Hellboy II and it sounds like I'll be slightly underwhelmed again.
I'd be interested to hear one of del Toro's advocates defend him against the charge that his films tend to offer "paper-thin" worlds. This rang quite true to me about Pan's Labyrinth in particular.
I'm curious as to what we're referring to when we're talking about a film's "world. " Are we talking about the magical realm or the setting of fascist Spain? Or do you mean "world" in a different sense?
I can't speak for Infrequency, but when I refer to Pan's Labyrinth's "world" I'm talking about the fantasy, magical realm.
Some brief thoughts on the film, to begin to "explain myself" :-)
I liked the character of the faun, but there really wasn't much else going on in that fantasy world. I mean, the Pale Man showed interesting character design, but he was there for all of, what, 2 minutes? And he was kind of pointless, as was the toad. Or at least it felt that way.
I was disappointed walking away from the film because the faun was the only character (again, in the fantasy realm) that displayed any personality, and the only one that hinted at any sort of depth beyond what we were seeing (that includes depth to his character as well as depth to the fantasy world). The rest just seemed like concepts conveniently thrown in there to give Ofelia something to do.
Instead of feeling like I was seeing the tip of the iceberg, I felt as if these characters were just in the film because the plot dictated it. As a result, the final shot's impact was almost lost on me.
Speaking for myself, I was actually referring to both the magical realm and fascist Spain. For me, neither setting gave the impression of existing at all beyond the frame: the magical realm seemed like a pretty set and the "real world" seemed exceptionally cartoonish. There were several things I liked about Pan's Labyrinth but I never felt that they added up -- not to a larger world, not a larger set of themes, not to much of anything. A big disappointment for me, since it was the movie in which I expected del Toro to make the leap.
In my opinion, Guillermo Del Toro has always been exceptionally masterful in handling CGI.
It's interesting to see this attitude towards del Toro's work scurry out into the open because I've felt a similar ambivalence towards all of his films (or all the ones I've seen, anyway) and for very similar reasons; but all I can ever find online is towering praise, everywhere I look. And it's almost unsafe to post criticism (blasphemy!) because of the immediate knee-jerk response you're likely to get (see first commenter above). Anyway, thanks for coming out in the open, or popping out of the woodwork or whatever: glad to have some critical support out here.
Unfortunately, the only expressions or critical evaluations we mild detractors can level at del Toro's films seem to be terribly vague, banal and generally unsatisfactory. I think this is because our negative reaction to his work is based on an intuitive sense that something is out of joint in his film worlds (the intention doesn't equal the result, the creatures and the surrounding world don't mesh, the film's cosmology is incoherent), which feels very real and convincing in the theater, but is difficult to communicate after the fact. It's an airy, ephemeral thing and it's brutally hard to define, especially in the face of such violent partisanship as Pan's Labyrinth has managed to accrue ("world's greatest Masterpiece of all time!", etc.) -- there's simply no room in which to develop such a curious negative response because of the surrounding din of slavering approval.
And so the best we can come up with is: "The film does not follow a consistent internal logic but rather the whims of its wildly inventive writer-director. Events occur because they must in order to create/reach the writer-director's desired effects/conclusion, but rarely is there a sense that the whole of the film is cut from the same cloth: it's all made up of little bits that he knows he wants to include but can't figure out how to justify or incorporate coherently." What the hell does that even mean? How do you define "non-depth"? (Or "thinness", as you've termed it.) Kinda hard.
One of the things that always bothers me about PL is the "ambiguity" of its conclusion (and the supporters are big on highlighting this as one of the films greatest traits/strengths): is the fantasy universe real and distinct from the "real world" of fascist Spain, or is it merely a figment of Ofelia's imagination? Does she escape the hardships of life on earth and become a princess in the (delightfully monarchal and patriarchal) fantasy universe, or is this merely a final dream of an imagined world that she created, called up one last time as the life slowly drains out of her?
It's a compelling notion, but I think del Toro undercuts it entirely by precisely failing to maintain any such ambiguity: sometimes the fantasy world is demonstrably real (Ofelia escapes from a locked room with chalk) and sometimes there is an atttempt to create a conflict of perspectives, such as when the Captain discovers Ofelia's rotting-root-in-sour-milk concoction, and we see both the "real" and the imaginary versions; but where's the ambiguity if, as on some occasions, there is no other explanation?
Even del Toro's camera fails to treat the real and fantasy worlds ambiguously. Consider the beginning of the film when Ofelia first interacts with the golden fairy. In order to maintain ambiguity, the camera should stay with Ofelia while the fairy flies off so that we remain uncertain as to whether she actually saw the creature or merely imagined it (the camera reflecting her fantastic worldview). But here, Ofelia's carriage drives on and we're left watching the little dragonfly flit about the screen: we are seeing this creature within this film's "reality" and there's very little ambiguity about it because it is an objective viewpoint, no longer just Ofelia's. So now we have both the camera and specific events telling us that the fantasy world really does exist.
The problem then becomes: what meaning does the film have if Ofelia actually escapes to the fantasy world? Her sacrifice is rewarded by ascendence to the thrown of fantasy-land? Not very compelling, even if we imagine that the film takes on a wistuflly ironic tone ("wouldn't it be nice if...? But we all know that this is bullshit"). If the final sequence is a complete fantasy, a last ditch effort to escape the pain and suffering of her existence under fascist rule, an imaginary reward offering (empty) solace to a girl who's slowly dying, well shit, that's crippling. But the claims of ambiguity ultimately render the film thematically incoherent, imo, and they don't stick because del Toro makes the fantasy world "real" anyway.
It just doesn't "add up". *sigh* More vague and banal complaints about a film that intuitively rubs me the wrong way....
While Pan's Labyrinth didn't have the "fully realized" world that Hellboy 2 did, it seems significant that the former was a world restricted to the imagination of a young girl. Much more than that and we would have complained of the impossibility of a world like that coming out of the mind of someone so young.
As for the attempt made at the halfway point to impose the major theme onto Hellboy himself, it didn't seem totally abandoned after that. Prince Nuada whispered into Hellboy's ear once again, at the film's end. The second time he not only referred to the earlier scene but also set the stage for a third film (as Del Toro has hinted), in which perhaps the dilemma of choice will be focused on Hellboy.
Peet, as you say, it can be a matter of opinion. I personally feel that the CGI in many of del Toro's films could be better. Blade II blended it relatively well, but once it was full blown, it was a little painful to watch (or, as my girlfriend put it, "Look! Remember when CG used to look like rubber?"). Pan's Labyrinth, I tried to give a pass because I'm sure it had some budget restrictions, but if I'm being as objective as possible, the CG creatures never felt part of the world to me. From the bug-like fairy creatures (which, because of lighting and shading, never seemed as if they were actually ON the stones that they crawled) to the final shot (some sub-par greenscreening), it just didn't reach the level that I know del Toro was reaching for.
Kevin, I agree, it seems difficult to put into words a lot of what I find wrong with films like Pan's Labyrinth, but I'll admit that some of it is that I haven't tried hard enough. I know how I feel abstractly, but I've never tried to put it as a full, written essay.
Zach, you seem to have a valid point about Pan's Labyrinth's world, but I will say that, as I stated earlier, I would have preferred to have the sense that there could be more to this world lurking beneath, and I never felt that. Again, I blame some of that on the lack of personality with some of the fantasy world, but I'm sure there's more to it that, as Kevin says, is more difficult to define (I'm not trying to use that as a cop-out, my brain is just kind of mushy at the moment).
As for the imposed theme, sure, Nuada mentions it later near the end of the film, but it felt like a feeble attempt to connect it. I know that's kind of vague, and perhaps part of it is a matter of opinion (what isn't?), but it doesn't feel like much care is taken to nurture that theme. It's a little more acceptable if you look at it as a continuing theme from the first film to the next. The first film showed glimpses of what could happen if Hellboy fulfills some sort of destiny (an apocalyptic future is in store), and that's confirm by a character in Hellboy II, but Nuada's words feel disconnected from that thread. Plus, its placement and frequency in the film just make it feel like an afterthought.
Hence why I felt like it was pretty much abandoned.
I haven't seen this one yet, and probably won't get around to it for a while, but I wanted to say, for what it's worth, that "Pan's Labyrinth" left me cold. I loved the photography, the design, the overall atmosphere, but it was too simplistic in its conception, too much "this equals that" in the way it constructed the parallel real/fantasy worlds. I also thought the "real" incarnation of the villain should have been kinder, much more approachable, because that's how evil wins -- not by being scary to everybody, but scary to a few and falsely nurturing/protecting of the majority in order to buy complicity.
As for the fantasy/reality divide, "Brazil," for all its problems, is a far richer portrait of the effect of totalitarianism on both society as a whole and the imagination of individuals. "Pan's Labyrinth" seems to me a bland reduction of themes in Terry Gilliam's movie, which offers more complexity in individual moments (the office workers looking busy when Ian Holm's inept supervisor is watching them, then standing around watching TV when his back is turned; the shot of Michael Palin's state torturer with blood on his smock playing with his children in his office) than "Pan's" manages in its entire running time.
That said, "The Devil's Backbone" is the movie "Pan's Labyrinth" could have and should have been -- my favorite film of 2001. The image of that enormous unexploded bomb in the orphanage's courtyard is a potent metaphor for how the tensions from past political traumas get suppressed by recovering societies but don't ever disappear; it's so evocative, in fact, that it renders "Pan's Labyrinth" unnecessary. And definitely the best of Del Toro's movies. I really liked "Cronos" and "Blade II" as well; the latter has more energy and feeling than almost any other big-budget comic book movie I can think of, and does its characters and situations the honor of taking them somewhat seriously without sacrificing the spectacle/silliness factor, a neat trick. And the first "Hellboy" was a lot funkier and edgier than other films of its type, with a lot of Biblical and specifically Catholic iconography that actually had meaning within the plot but didn't pretend to possess a gravitas that the movie couldn't earn.
Bottom line: Del Toro's made one classic, a couple of very good movies and a lot of messy but interesting stuff. I think he's a spectacularly talented filmmaker; the problem is that his eye often conceives images that his dramatist's mind isn't adventurous enough, or meticulous enough, to properly support. Kevin H.'s analysis of the dragonfly image (above) is so spot-on that there really isn't any point in trying to add to it.
I'll admit, I haven't seen The Devil's Backbone yet (I look for it whenever I get movies at my library, but I don't go out of my way to see it). I might need to make an effort to find watch it, because it sounds like the film I was hoping Pan's Labyrinth would be (and I totally agree that PL took the very "basic" approach to paralleling the two worlds, which was disappointing).
I really did like some concepts and images in the first Hellboy, and of course the character of Hellboy himself, but I felt like it was bogged down with uninteresting subplots and characters. The villains themselves, while well-designed (well, that Nazi guy/thing at least), were just too boring otherwise.
I hope I don't come across as disliking del Toro, because it's actually quite the opposite. I get so disappointed in some of his films because I see how talented and capable he really is in his successes and his failures. Hellboy II is a great step in the right direction for him, in my opinion, despite some big flaws.
eh, who cares about hellboy anyways. its all just foreplay before the sex and subsequent amazing orgasm that will be the dark knight.
Though I too am at something of a loss when it comes to articulating it, I too was left cold by Pan's Labyrinth - MZS says everything I'd like to but could not articulate half as well. Now, though, I simply must see The Devil's Backbone, as I'm already a fan of everything non-Pan's. Blade II and Hellboy are both quite savory, while I'll go somewhat out on a limb and call Hellboy II my favorite superhero movie to date (with the possible exception of Batman Returns, though a rewatch of Superman Returns (ditto) is in order as well). Matt, don't know if you've yet heard about the Barry Manilow scene, but it's very special indeed.
There's a Barry Manilow scene? I'm totally there.
Hellboy 2 was fun... for sure that director has an amazing imagination, reminded me a lot of his work in Pan's Labyrinth
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