My Favorite Movies

There is a moment in "Lost in Translation" when Bob and Charlotte are lying on a bed, talking. Though they are not holding one another or even touching, silence descends at one point, and Bob reaches out his hand, briefly resting it on Charlotte's leg. That scene made me fall in love with this film. Ultimately, it's a story of loneliness--an existential existence in which we all grasp for those little bits of human contact that let us know that we're not alone.

Every time I watch this film, I find more and more detail in every scene. The expressions, the words, the motions. Every moment carries nuances that only become evident after multiple viewings, and it's a testament to Sofia Coppola's direction that these layers run so deep. Perhaps the most impressive aspect of the film is Bill Murray's astounding performance. Who would have guessed that the comedian playing the goofy greenskeeper in "Caddyshack" would ever reach such depths in his acting abilities? Murray is simply brilliant as an actor in his twilight, finding that his life has become a series of mind-numbing product endorsements. His every word and motion in the film convey a weariness that few actors could ever pull off without seeming contrived. We don't simply see Bob's sense of isolation--Murray makes us feel it. Considering her young age at the time, Scarlett Johansson was equally impressive as Charlotte, communicating a fragile solitude beyond her years. It's easily apparent that the two share a common bond, which makes their inevitable separation all the more poignant.

Much has been said of the whispered words between them near the end of the film. I am of the same opinion as Roger Ebert on the issue: we do not need to know. Just as Bob and Charlotte shared a private bond that no one else in their lives would likely understand, we too are strangers to their feelings. It was their moment--not ours--and those are the moments that we all need at times. I was once told that some friendships are not meant to be long-lasting. There are people that may enter our lives only for moments, yet those moments can affect us more than years of experiences. Bob and Charlotte needed one another, just as we each, at one time or another, simply need the touch and words of another.

I find "Pan's Labyrinth" extraordinarily difficult to review in some ways, as it simply defies the boundaries of genre and analysis. Rarely can I recall a film that has left me so uncertain about its meaning and intentions, but it has an inspired genius behind it that appears infrequently in cinema. Ofelia, a young girl who lost her father during World War II, finds herself caught between two realities--the horror of post-war Spain and the machinations of a faun who claims that Ofelia is the reincarnation of the Underground Realm's Princess, who had long ago escaped to the surface world and died as a mortal, bereft of her memories. Faced with the immanent birth of her new brother and subsequently another tragic loss, she must make difficult decisions regarding her future.

Captain Vidal, her new stepfather, is a sadistic fascist who gives no thought to brutally murdering innocent men. His only apparent desire is to have a son through Ofelia's mother as a means to ensure his family line, and this takes precedence over all else, including his new wife. Her survival matters little to him, and his coldness toward her makes it clear that he has no love for either her or her daughter. As Vidal struggles against anti-fascist rebels, Ofelia finds herself drawn further and further into her macabre world, which effectively complements the events occurring at the fascist outpost. But in each case, she is asked to compromise her intuitive sense of right and wrong, turning the film into an intelligent allegory of repression, imagination and freedom of the will.

The special effects used to portray the fantasy elements are magnificently rendered, and they possess a distorted beauty. I particularly enjoy the depiction of the faun, who has a sinister grace to his design. Each of the other creatures encountered by Ofelia is creatively imagined, bearing little resemblance to the typical fantasy fare, and they all convey that same, vague malevolence, imbuing the film with a ominous mood. The picturesque cinematography of the Spanish countryside contrasts well to the violence contained within, and it blends seamlessly with the fantasy elements. Likewise, the orchestral score--especially the haunting main theme--perfectly matches the film's mood, never overpowering its images and further heightening the intense events Ofelia faces in both realities.

Ivana Baquero provides a performance far beyond her years in her portrayal of Ofelia; she is simply astounding in her maturity as a young actress. Through her measured performance, we're completely convinced of her reactions and choices. Equally impressive is Sergi Lopez, who creates a villain akin to Amon Goeth in "Schindler's List." Both men possess an unnerving brutality devoid of compassion or empathy, and Lopez quietly carries each scene in which he appears. The first scene in which we fully comprehend the depth of his depravity ranks as one of the most disturbing I have ever witnessed. Though Baquero and Lopez's performances stand out, the other cast members contribute equally effective and convincing roles. The true star, however, is director Guillermo del Toro, who ties all of the elements together into a stunningly original and visionary film.

I remember lying in bed after I had first seen "The Wizard of Oz," staring at my closet in the darkness. My mother kept several of her dresses there, and twisted by the shadows and moonlight filtering through the windows, the hanging garments looked like a row of ghostly women, watching me silently. It's one of the few childhood memories I have of distinct fear. The imagination of a child can be an immensely powerful force, and is often far more adept at creating horror--and beauty--than reality ever could. Ofelia constructs--or perhaps encounters, as the film is ambiguous as to the reality of her visions--twisted creatures that dwarf the chillingly mundane evil that surrounds her. Is it real, an escape or her method of coping with the crumbling world around her? Director Del Toro doesn't offer any clear answers, and we're left only with Ofelia's choices and her courage.