Review: "Crimson Peak"

Director: Guillermo Del Toro
Runtime: 119 minutes

In an early flashback in Crimson Peak, a ghost whispers to young Edith Cushing (Mia Wasikowska) that she should beware of the titular location. A similar warning should be given out to those going to see Guillermo Del Toro's latest film under the wrong impression. If you want to be either scared witless or grossed out by blood and gore, look elsewhere. But if you want to see a film that gorgeously translates the themes and tropes of gothic romance to the screen - albeit with flashes of the supernatural and R-rated content - look no further. Mr. Del Toro courted mainstream appeal with his last film, the glorified machines vs. monsters B-movie Pacific Rim. Let his newest endeavor, despite being made in English and through the studio system, sees the Mexican auteur returning to his roots, with sumptuous and haunting results.

The first ghost appears only moments into Crimson Peak, and past that point, you'd be forgiven for thinking you were in the wrong theater. The amber-tinted images the capture the hushed romance of Edith and the mysterious Thomas Sharpe (Tom Hiddleston) feel more in line with The Age of Innocence than anything remotely connected to the horror or supernatural thriller dramas. Despite the increased appearance of ghouls and ghosts later, the romance portion of the film is where Mr. Del Toro's attention really lies. Wasikowska's Edith is an aspiring novelist, and in one scene she is met with confusion from an editor who tries to pigeonhole her short story as a "ghost story." "I like to think of it as a story with a ghost in it," is her reply, and the line doubles as Del Toro's mission statement for Crimson Peak as well. 

It's fitting that Wasikowska plays the story's hero, seeing as she's already proven her worth playing the eponymous role of Jane Eyre, subject of one of the most revered Gothic romances in literature. In this new venture, Wasikowska and Del Toro have created a protagonist who remains fiercely independent and inquisitive, even as her situation deteriorates. The reasons for Edith's eventual endangerment are best left unclear, but - quite obviously - they stem from the presence of Thomas and his standoffish sister Lucille (Jessica Chastain). 

Del Toro has melded a variety of influences (Jane Eyre, Hammer horror films, Rebecca) that could have proven unwieldy. But even when the influences are obvious or expected, the delivery is fresh when filtered through the director's vision. Del Toro, working with a wide range of new technical collaborators, has put his visual stamp on every inch of Crimson Peak, and it's often ravishing to behold. Even if the mix of genres fails to fully convince, you can always get lost in the immaculately designed sets. In typical Del Toro fashion, Crimson Peak's settings, clothes, and even people, are simultaneously gorgeous and grotesque.  

Equally impressive is how elegantly Del Toro and co. keep the story moving. The director's English-language films, to date, have all been his weakest from a pacing standpoint. Crimson Peak, thankfully, bucks that trend. Enough time is given to Edith and Thomas' courtship to make it convincing, yet the film is never bogged down by the period details. There are moments of visual wonderment, but they are often captured through smoothly edited passages and informative camera movements that never allow Crimson Peak's atmosphere to stagnate. 

Fantastic sets are one thing, you may ask, but what about the people inhabiting those densely designed settings? Crimson Peak's characters are largely meant to evoke other iconic roles, meaning they lack a true specificity. But that doesn't stop the cast from have a grand time vamping it up, all while staying sincere. Wasikowska does the wan intelligence bit superbly, keeping Edith sharp(e) even when she (and the audience) are left in the dark. Personally, Hiddleston is the biggest surprise of the cast. As somehow who has repeatedly left indifferent by his work, I was delighted by how well he captured Thomas' Byronic facade. The role could have called for nothing more than a handsome face, but the actor does some splendid work opposite his co-stars. And speaking of co-stars, he has two excellent ones in Wasikowska and Chastain. The latter is ultimately the film's MVP, despite a misleading one-note approach at the outset. Lucille's raven hair, like her psyche, comes unraveled over the course of the story, and to watch Chastain (affecting a mostly solid British accent) play such an overtly creepy (and later menacing) character is another testament to her range. 

The three central characters are tasked with charting a psychological game that is constantly shifting gears, and Del Toro does a marvelous job of subverting audience expectations. Crimson Peak's eventual payoff is not immediately impressive when compared to, say, The Sixth Sense. But it is a rewarding all the same. Del Toro's script prepares to go big, but then pulls the rug out from under the viewer in favor of a twist that plays more on ideas than plot developments or supernatural gotcha moments. Ghosts may be real in the world of Crimson Peak, but they, like Thomas and Lucille, a far from what they seem. The film's opening warning specifies what Edith should beware at Crimson Peak. It never specified whom...

Grade: B+/A-

Review: "Pacific Rim"

Director: Guillermo Del Toro
Runtime: 132 minutes

With so many summer tentpoles designed to launch franchises, there's something refreshing about a film willing to start at the end. Pacific Rim, the latest film from Mexican monster maestro Guillermo Del Toro, condenses an entire story's worth of exposition into a swift opening reel that could practically function as its own open-ended short film. With big visuals and a smattering of exposition from protagonist Raleigh Becket (Charlie Hunnam), Pacific Rim establishes the beginning of its world, and then gives itself room to comfortably exist in that world for the remainder of the story. It's a structural decision that pays off in spades, and ensures that this simple, crowd-pleasing effort provides maximum entertainment. 

Del Toro and co-writer Travis Beacham haven't necessarily created a truly original story. The set-up, which shares DNA with everything from Godzilla to the acclaimed anime Neon Genesis Evangelion, is more of a template for Del Toro to do what he does best: create phenomenal creatures to wreak havoc. Those creatures are known as kaiju, and they emerge, in good ole sci-fi fashion, from a trans-dimensional rift in the Pacific Ocean. One by one, they lay siege to cities, and humanity fights back by creating monsters of its own: giant robots, with two pilots (one for each brain hemisphere) called jaegers. In other words, it's the sort of narrative a 12 year old boy might come up with on an afternoon left at home alone with his action figures. 

That youthful enthusiasm is present from the start, even as it's channeled through the vision of a skilled visual craftsman. As Game of Thrones composer Ramin Djawadi's score surges underneath, and we see two pilots lock into their massive machine, it's hard to feel anything but pure giddiness. For all of the grandiose destruction on display, Del Toro strikes a tone that is light, yet still sincere and fun.

Rather than bog the narrative down in the dire circumstances and existential worries of the characters, Del Toro and Beacham create just enough surface character development for one to engage. Raleigh is dealing with a previous trauma involving his former co-pilot, while new pilot Mako (Rinko Kikuchi) struggles to control her emotions and memories while merged in the robot's core. And then there's commander Stacker Pentecost (Idris Elba), the man desperate to hold the jaeger program together, even as the world's governments withdraw their support. 

The story's sense of finality (humanity is in a last ditch attempt to close the oceanic portal) is present, but never to a degree that it sinks the story. The characters may be largely exhausted by the toll of the fight for survival, yet the film is anything but gloomy. Barring a few dips in its character-building sequences, Del Toro's pacing is engaging and fluid. The robots and kaiju are massive (and captured from angles to highlight their scale at every turn), and their clashes are appropriately epic. Yet, despite the stakes, this is not a case of a film's apocalyptic violence becoming overbearing and numbing. Even as most of the battles take place at night, in the water, and in the rain, there is a sense of clarity to the (stunningly-rendered) clashes. 

The fun of the whole experience is more than enough to compensate for the cliched characters. Some are nicely handled (Elba is always a formidable presence), while others are merely functional (Hunnam is a blandly appealing lead), but under Del Toro's guidance, even the cliches become largely enjoyable. Similar to Gore Verbinski's Rango, Pacific Rim sets out to take all of the typical cliches of monster movies and mecha cartoons and simply mash them together with a knowing, polished eye. 

So even though Del Toro and Beacham don't infuse the script with the same level of bizarro wit than lifted Rango above its own cliches, the pair still craft a story that builds nicely to a satisfying conclusion. Though hardly meant to sear any images into your imagination (aside from the monsters), Pacific Rim is an unqualified success of geeky boyish enthusiasm. Del Toro has been given a budget that dwarfs those of all of his previous film, and it's a joy to see his visual imagination blown up on such a massive scale. A more complicated narrative would have only prevented the film from being the sort of straightforward joyride that it winds up being. Rather than try and bring the emotional depth and striking storytelling of efforts like Pan's Labyrinth to the monster genre, Del Toro has opted to sit back and play with his digitized creations. Usually it isn't fun to watch someone else play with their toys (especially if it's a video game). Consider Pacific Rim a nutty exception to the rule.

Grade: B/B-