‘Guillermo Del Toro’s Pinocchio’ Brings New Life to a Classic Tale With Darker Implications
Guillermo Del Toro is a master of storytelling and a creative with a keen eye for finding the humanity within beasts—both monstrous and mortal—which is why it's no surprise that his adaptation of Pinocchio is one that blends wondrous magic with tragic realism.
The oft-told tale of Pinocchio is usually attributed to Disney, whose 1940’s animated film is perhaps the most well-known adaptation of a story that was first penned by Italian author Carlo Collodi in the late 19th century. Guillermo Del Toro’s Pinocchio, however, is posed to eclipse that inherent link between Pinocchio and Disney, because it understands that the shining beacon throughout all of the unexpected horrors that Pinocchio faces is the soul that has given him life.
Image via Netflix
War is an unavoidable shadow looming great and long over Guillermo Del Toro’s Pinocchio, and war is the thing that has robbed Geppetto (David Bradley) of his joy. When the film opens, the aging Italian sculptor is brimming with life. His business is thriving, he’s been commissioned to make an impressively grand crucifix, and he has his precious son Carlo (Gregory Mann). But war does not just kill soldiers or nameless men in far-off lands, it reigns terror down on everyone and everything—stealing life and joy and hope. When his son dies unexpectedly, Geppetto spirals into depression, spending hours at his son’s graveside, which is where he first crosses paths with the film’s narrator and conscious Sebastian J. Cricket (Ewan McGregor), a cricket looking for the perfect home to write his memoirs in.
As with most adaptations, Geppetto carves a wooden boy out of a pine tree, but in this film, it’s a grandiose Wood Sprite (Tilda Swinton) who grants his desperate plea and plants a soul inside the wooden puppet. From there Del Toro’s Pinocchio sets out on a familiar path, doling out a healthy dose of moral lessons for the bratty wooden boy discovering what it means to be “alive.” But the film differs from past interpretations because Del Toro plants its roots in realism, using fascism and Mussolini as a backdrop for the foibles of adolescence. While dark themes emerge throughout, Del Toro carefully balances the film’s horrors without tipping them too far to scare off young audiences that need this thoughtful tale. Alexandre Desplat’s musical interludes help to soften the jagged edges that might cut the more tender-hearted viewers.
Image via Netflix
Not only is Guillermo Del Toro’s Pinocchio a visual masterpiece, but it's also a masterclass in storytelling and narrative allegory. It is steeped in its own lore, and brimming with the vibrancy of life that emerges through the somber and dreary aesthetics. Never before has the wooden boy felt so alive and somehow it seems fitting that the joy of this story is found in stop-motion animation that brings to the forefront the tragedies that give birth to Pinocchio’s existence. Del Toro has long been the maestro of finely crafting life’s horrors and wonders into soul-stirring fairytale-infused stories that force audiences to reflect inwards, but Pinocchio feels like his magnum opus. As careful as Geppetto is with crafting his wooden sculptures, Del Torro’s guiding hand is felt at every turn of this masterful piece of macabre introspection.
Final Verdict: A+
