This week in the semester we sought to understand the ways in which cinema deploys re-memberance, horror, and fantasy as strategies (not merely as plots or narratives) of survival of fascism.
How did Spanish cinema and literature represent the survival of repression, persecution, prosecution, execution, life, and death in the multiple temporalities film can hold. For instance, in the case of the film of this week, del Toro collapses the times during (inside the world of the film) and after (inside the frame of fantasy, and the one of multiple levels of reality, in the post-Franco moment of production as well as the transnational dimension of it) the demise of the fascist regime of Franco? What kind of memories were forged re-membering this life, these lives, and this death, all these deaths? What role did fantasy and transnationalism play in forging such memories? On Monday we explored memory and oblivion, the web of (in)visible co-productions in Spanish cinema, media, and the market. We also discussed how memory and oblivion show up represented in cinema, the market, and media.
On Wednesday we began the discussion of this important film by briefly recapitulating the four thematic axes in this semester of studying life, death, violence, fascism, memory, family, and a number of other issues. We then discussed one of the most quoted ‘Spanish’ films, Pan’s Labyrinth, and how this film deploys the survival of fascism in relation to its transnational dimensions.
Please, post a comment on these questions by Saturday May 8 at the latest.
In del Toro’s Pan’s Labyrinth, history is entirely intertwined with fantasy as historical events are presented alongside a mythical and fantastical story. Set in 1944 after the end of the Spanish Civil War, Pan’s Labyrinth reflects the strenuous and violent period of the early years of the Francoist regime. Ofelia’s cruel and evil step-father, Captain Vidal, represents the fascist army’s strict and violent ideology. The fantasy elements of Pan’s Labyrinth could, upon first glance, feel like an easy way to examine the traumas of fascism without forcing the audience to deal with the harsh realities directly, like staring at the sun but through sunglasses. However, I think the fantasy elements instead represent the traumas of fascism through the child’s mind, like we have seen in Cria Cuervos and Spirit of the Beehive, through fantasy, dreams, and eventually, death. Additionally, the distorting combination of fantasy and history is reliant on the misrepresentation of historical facts, alluding to the fascist regime’s goal to rewrite the history of the patriarchal fatherland and the tendency of historical memory to rely on myths and fairy tales as we have seen with Las Trece Rosas. Although the ending of Pan’s Labyrinth is anything but happy, it represents a fantasy ideal where the republican soldiers gain vengeance over the fascist Captain Vidal and Ofelia, although dead, escapes the horrors of her life under fascism and finds peace in the afterlife as she returns to her rightful throne. This triumph of the republican rebels represents an attempt to reclaim the erased history of those who fought against fascism, showing an uncommon collective victory for those who risked their lives to fight against the fascist regime and came out on top. Additionally, Captain Vidal is most interested in preserving the memory of himself and his father through his unborn son. When the child is finally born and taken away from Vidal by the republican soldiers, they punish the Captain, not only by killing him, but by informing him that his son will never even know his name, preventing Vidal from perpetuating his fascist ideology and transferring the traumas of the strict Catholic and militaristic gender roles and societal expectations. Although this may seem like a win for the righteous soldiers, however, they explicitly choose to suppress the traumatic historical truth in order to allow the next generation an easier future. The memory of war, fascism, and traumatic experiences are already repressed, rewritten, and misrepresented, and this decision to erase the truth of the past, no matter how uncomfortable or unhappy, has lasting consequences on the way future generations understand and deal with historical trauma.
Time and memory appear to function as significant markers during the period of fascism. The past is constantly altered to fit the needs of the regime, with only those memories which serve fascism’s vision it has constructed for itself allowed to live. To contrast, any memory or element of history that does not suit the regime’s interests was censored. The present, and by extension, the future, were at the whims of the state. Transnationalism is something of a rebellion to this, to the supposed autarky that Francoism attempted to create. By interacting with other nations Spain is able to recover some of its own memory and learn what events were real and what were not. While some deaths were deliberately forgotten, either out of shame or a desire to minimize pain, others were remembered as symbols of resistance, as was the case with the Trece Rosas. This is apparent in Pan’s Labyrinth. I addressed this in one of my final papers already, but Vidal is longing for a death story of his own, a fable of his bravery to be passed down to his son. Unfortunately for him, his memory was chosen to be obliviated, out of the sheer pain he caused in life. On the other hand, the film implies that Ophelia achieved a death story of her own, with her memory not forgotten, and traces of her left on earth for those to find. So, to answer the question of what kind of memories were forged, I would first say that many chose to forget these times of strife and repression and death. I would also say that memories of hope and resistance were not forgotten, and hopefully never will be.
Del Toro’s film encapsulates many of the themes we have discussed over the course of the semester and portrays how film as a medium allows for different modes of storytelling that are useful for depictions of survival through fascism. The first aspect of the film that feels salient to me is the use of temporality and fantasy as an escape from fascist reality. By incorporating the two narratives of the rebel fighters in the woods and the fantasy journey Ophelia goes on simultaneously, there is a subconscious association between danger, fascism, and the strength to fight back. Bringing back the narrative of the fall of the Fascist regime invokes a kind of forcefulness in the importance of remembering, and plainly depicts the brutality of fascist general that coincides with the trials Ophelia must face to be a part of her fantasy kingdom. The fight for a better future is mirrored in the two expressions, realistic and fantasy. The harshness of fascism is depicted in the image of Pan in the film as well, the arbitrary rules and callousness of his speaking, and the vacillation between sweetness and harshness, first praising Ophelia then scolding her, keeping her in an endless loop of desire for what he is offering. Another aspect of this film that I thought was interesting is the similarity between this film and previous films we have seen this semester. The similarities between this film and the films that recall Bunuel’s Andalusian Dog are obvious, but the one I find more compelling is the similarities to Cria Cuervos. Both films center a young female protagonist with a dead/sick mother and fascist father. Beside these façade similarities, I’m curious about the depictions of poisoning/drugging the main antagonist, the figure of fascism for the young protagonist. Both films struggle with questions of violence and the continuation of violence into future generations, and the depictions of poisoning, whether real or not, are examples of how the violence of fascism can only be escaped through expressions of violence from innocent people. The ending of this film is poignant as well for its decisive stance on memory. When the rebels find the fascist general and rescue Ophelia’s baby brother from him, they say he will grow up not taught about his father at all. This to me feels like an attempt to cut the remaining survivors free of fascism. To assert that a fascist legacy is not worth remembering, not because it should be erased from memory entirely but for the sake of freedom from deeds you had no choice but to participate in, is an interesting expression of how the survivors of Franco Spain must live and carry on.
Guillermo del Toro’s ‘Pan’s Labyrinth’ remembers Spain’s ugly and gruesome relationship with fascism through historical fiction and fantastical allegories. Set in the mountains of Spain during the finality of the Republican-Falangist struggle and the midst of WWII, del Toro sets the stage for a young girl to confront evil with innocence and sacrifice in a whimsical fantasy land, while partisans and fascists fight for the future of Spain. ‘Pan’s Labyrinth’ is a hyper-dramatic fiction, yet its story harkens back to very real and painful events from Spanish history, and despite the director’s national identity, honors the Spanish tradition of remembering and re-remembering trauma through artistic expression. Del Toro’s remembering of 1940s Spain ends like a bitter-sweat fairytale, with protagonist Ofelia falling victim to the evils of her fascist stepfather, with her death later being avenged by the victorious partisans. The end of the film sees the rebels triumph in the face of tyranny, and Ofelia immortalized in the Underworld, joined by her parents. The ‘happy’ ending to del Toro’s film lifts the viewer’s spirits for a fleeting moment, only for them to be countered by the alternate telling of events in which Ofelia lies dead in the real world. Coupled with the historical reality that the partisan heroes may have won battles but were ultimately crushed by decades of fascism to come, the deceptively uplifting ending to del Toro’s fantasy is all the more tragic, since after all, his film is merely a fantasy.