As means of congratulating the highly deserving winner of this year’s Best Directing Academy Award, I will excavate one this review of an old Guillermo del Toro film, which I believe stands as the final such writerly relic that can be transferred over to this digital space.
It would be misguided and hypocritical of me to issue a blanket statement about the benefit of letting directors follow their creative instincts without reservations. After all, it wasn’t so long ago that I watched a full day of work from a director who is routinely allowed such unchecked leeway and the phrase “subjected myself to” is central to any description of that experience. So allow me to be more precise. Letting Guillermo del Toro fully loose on a film, his imagination untethered, his vision washing across the screen like spilled juices or flung blood…this is a good thing.
In between helming the first film depiction of Mike Mignola‘s cult favorite comic book character and this sequel, Hellboy II: The Golden Army, del Toro ushered the splendid Pan’s Labyrinth into the world, and the dark artistry of that grim fairy tale informs this new work. Del Toro is still delivering a story that feels like it comes from a corner of the superhero-jammed film-verse that increasingly anchors national multiplexes. The difference is the readily apparent glee taken in filling the screen with wonderful warped monsters and all manner of tactile gruesomeness. There is still action, there are still set pieces that feel well-constructed enough to please those who insist summer movie fare quickens their pulse with rigid regularity. The flavor of them, however, is unmistakably shaped by del Toro’s bump-in-the-night sensibilities more thoroughly than any of his previous outings that involved hefty studio budgets and commensurate box office expectations. After the surprising (and gratifying) success of Labyrinth, there’s a welcome willingness to let del Toro take this franchise material wherever he pleases.
And why not? After all, this devil-hued do-gooder is enough of a known commodity by now that purchasing a ticket is tantamount to a unwavering commitment to suspending disbelief. If you can accept a big, thick, demonic crusader with forehead horns tamed and flattened by a belt sander and a conveniently misproportioned right hand made of punch-friendly stone, then a plant creature several stories tall or a battalion of Barbie doll sized nasty beasties with a taste for human bicuspids should be equally easy to swallow. It’s hard to fathom what would finally cause a Hellboy II attendee to lean back, cross their arms and say, “Oh, now, that’s too much.”
The plot feels extremely familiar, the characters are put through flatly delineated paces rather then given the chance to develop (to such a point that a move of personal defiance at the close of the film has only the most tangential connection to anything that’s come before), and the thudding wit tends towards the unnecessarily juvenile. But none of that prevents the film from being very fun. The director is clearly having the time of his life, finally able to play with every toy he con conjure up in his slightly skewed noggin, and that rumbling joy is mighty hard to resist. In many ways, del Toro has crafted a movie that properly captures what traditional comic books are supposed to be: audaciously inventive with a soaring, intoxicating disregard for the physical constraints that make our normal earthbound adventures look less colorful in comparison.