“Hellboy II: The Golden Army” (2008)
The stakes were high with “Hellboy II: The Golden Army.” Not only was it the highly anticipated sequel to an original that had garnered a strong cult following and respectable box office, but it was also del Toro’s follow-up to the universally beloved “Pan’s Labyrinth,” a movie that Stephen King called “the greatest fantasy film since ‘Wizard of Oz.'” As such, “Hellboy II: The Golden Army” is a mixture of the sensibilities of both the original “Hellboy” and “Pan’s Labyrinth,” with our beloved, lobster-red paranormal researcher Hellboy (Perlman, again covered in pounds of cutting-edge make-up wizardry) back in business, and this time facing down a number of fairy tale creatures who are threatening to overtake the human world. Del Toro directs like he’ll never get another chance at the character (or maybe directing in general), throwing virtually everything into this overheated, hugely enjoyable souffle. Not only does he fashion a dense mythology wholly separate from the comic book the films are based, with an unheard of number of fantastical monsters and beings, exemplified by a prologue visualized as an elaborate puppet show, but he has thrown in a number of fascinating thematic and mythological wrinkles that, should a third film never materialize, will go damningly unfinished. But “Hellboy II” is, first and foremost, a visual feast— a richly imagined, painstakingly world that imagines not only what would happen if the fairy tale world actually existed, but was pushed to the margins of society (so that an elfin king resides underneath Manhattan, his throne a tangle of ancient magic and industrial piping). Del Toro’s imagination (and the goofy gonzo Hellboy universe) reaches its crescendo during the Troll Market sequence, which is like del Toro’s version of the Mos Eisley Cantina setpiece from “Star Wars”— a scene so full of magical, mythical monsters that it almost pops at the seams and one that’s even more arresting for its reliance on practical monsters instead of CGI concoctions. It should also be noted that “Hellboy II: The Golden Army” was the first time that robots and monsters would battle, long before “Pacific Rim,” in the movie’s climax, when the titular army of glitzy wind-up automatons does battle with Hellboy. “Hellboy II: The Golden Army” always runs the risk of being too overstuffed for its own good, like binging on a buffet of your favorite candy bar, but it is a surprisingly deep experience and one that gets better with each subsequent viewing, with its humor, warmth, and peculiarity becoming even more of an asset as we drown in a sea of blandly generic superhero tales. [B+]
“Pacific Rim” (2013)
Del Toro’s latest dazzler is, in sheer scope and scale, unlike anything he’s ever done before. After leaving “The Hobbit” prequel films and getting shut down on “At the Mountains of Madness,” an ambitious Lovecraft adaptation for Universal, del Toro was able to, fairly quickly, fashion something that feels, at times, deeply nostalgic and yet totally new. And since it’s filled with huge fucking monsters, it also resonates deeply as a Guillermo del Toro film. Eschewing many of the traditions of this type of summertime blockbuster movie— it’s not an origin film, the action sequences are not shot in sunny vistas, and the cast is outrageously multi-ethnic— del Toro has made a hands-in-the-air epic, one whose breathless fun doesn’t let up until the moment the credits roll (and there’s even a little nugget in there, so stick around for that). In the not-too-distant future, kaiju, giant, monstrous beasts, have escaped from a dimensional rift and promptly set about attacking major cities around the world. In response, humanity has constructed the jaegers, equally giant, monstrous robots who are piloted by teams of two, who are linked, via neural connection, with each pilot serving to operate half the robot. As the main narrative thrust for “Pacific Rim” begins, the program is being dismantled; the monsters are getting too big and scary and killing too many pilots. The movie documents the last stand of the humans, who have gone from being a fighting force to a ragtag resistance, with only a handful of jaegers at their disposal (with cool names like Gipsy Danger and Crimson Typhoon) and little hope of holding off the apocalypse. But, of course, a plucky hotshot (Charlie Hunnam) and a young pilot with revenge on her mind (Rinko Kikuchi) team up to turn the tide. “Pacific Rim” is more thrilling than most blockbusters, with a level of invention and a lightness of touch that are all too often missing from these kind of hulking enterprises. The director even manages to squeeze in a sizable supporting role for constant collaborator Ron Perlman, this time playing Hannibal Chau, an underground dealer of kaiju organs, who teams up with Charlie Day‘s twitchy scientist, to uncover the monsters’ secret. Anime, old “Godzilla” movies, and Japanese manga all seem to be clear influences (the design work here is nothing short of staggering), but “Pacific Rim” still feels fresh and new. It’s the work of an imaginative master, having the time of his life. [B+]
“The Devil’s Backbone” (2001)
Produced by Pedro Almodovar and shot entirely on a micro-budget in Spain, “The Devil’s Backbone” marked a return to del Toro’s roots after the studio clusterfuck that was “Mimic” (an experience del Toro was wary to repeat) and would serve as the precursor to his most widely accepted film, “Pan’s Labyrinth.” What nobody dares acknowledge, however, is that “The Devil’s Backbone” is just as good as “Pan’s Labyrinth,” a deeply existential meditation on the nature of war that takes place in a orphanage during the Spanish Civil War. As a piece of imagery so on-the-nose that it can’t help but resonate, an unexploded aerial bomb sits in the courtyard of the orphanage, forcefully lodged in the earth, waiting to go off. And since the words “directed by Guillermo del Toro” appear on “The Devil’s Backbone,” it should also be noted that there is a ghost, supposedly the spectral remains of a young boy who went missing on the day that the bomb landed. “The Devil’s Backbone” is a deeply uneasy movie, with a palpable atmosphere so thick you could carve it into slices, smash it between two pieces of bread, and have it for lunch, beautifully shot by del Toro’s frequent collaborator Guillermo Navarro and featuring the kind of moments that aren’t just memorable; they’re downright haunting. Hopefully some of “The Devil’s Backbone’s” cred will be restored when a deluxe edition comes out later this month courtesy of our friends at the Criterion Collection. It might not be as ornate or magical as “Pan’s Labyrinth,” but it’s every bit as emotionally powerful and visually stunning. The two are obvious companion pieces, set at roughly the same place at roughly the same historical point, and equals in terms of quality as well. Those who have never seen it are best served by waiting for this new edition. It’ll be worth it. [A]