REVIEW: “Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio”

REVIEW: “Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio”

December 29th, 2022

Martin Goodman

I have not seen every film based on Carlos Collodi’s 1883 Italian novel Pinnochio; the essential story has spawned countless variations and thematic similarities. In truth, I have seen six or seven, none especially notable other than the 1940 Disney animated classic, which remains the ne plus ultra of the bunch. That said, the 2022 version from Director Guillermo del Toro and co-director Mark Gustafson now joins Disney with an unabashed triumph of design, stop-motion animation, story revision, and atmosphere. The picture has already won accolades as Best Animated Picture from various Film Critic Associations and has several more nominations pending.

GdT’s Pinocchio resulted from del Toro’s lifelong obsession with the character. It was touted as a project at least fourteen years ago but had a bumpy road to production, including one cancellation due to a lack of funds. Netflix rescued the project in 2018. No one could have birthed the film quite the way del Toro did. He was already a filmmaker well-versed in horror and fantasy, and to his reckoning, Pinocchio was already a horror story. To del Toro’s credit, he took on stop-motion expert Mark Gustafson to co-direct. Pinocchio is the first such credit for Gustafson, but Gustafson earned his chops as far back as 1985 with the Will Vinton Claymation Studio. Illustrator Gris Grimly provided visuals for many of the characters, and this trio, despite the setbacks, produced perhaps the creepiest but most fascinating adaptation of Collodi’s work since Disney.

One only has to look back at Gustafson’s original work on Vinton’s The Adventures of Mark Twain (1985) to find a gift for animating disturbing scenes of horror into what was ostensibly a children’s tale. Likewise, no one who saw del Toro’s Pan’s Labyrinth (2006) could overlook the narrative texturing of del Toro’s work in Pinocchio.

Finally, Grimly’s grotesque character designs round out the co-directors’ dark themes. Pinocchio is a spindly, half-hewn parody of a human boy, with asymmetrical knobs in his limbs, holes in his body, nails protruding from his back, and a head and face formed of haphazard wooden spikes. Sebastian the Cricket is a pure insect, unlike the humanoid in Disney’s version. The evil puppet master Falco’s sweptback hair recalls a predatory bird (falcon?). Spazzatura, Falco’s monkey puppeteer, has a feral snarl and milky eye. The Wood Sprite who gives life to Pinocchio is far-removed from Disney’s ethereal beauty; she is a multi-winged gryphon who communicates telepathically, and her sister, Death, is an amped-up version of the Sprite. Even comic relief characters such as the Black Rabbits serving Death are unnerving.

Most narrative changes involve characters from the novel being compressed into a single figure, but the most significant change is transferring the setting to WWII Fascist Italy. To avoid spoilers, suffice it to say that this change allows del Toro to explore themes of relationships between fathers and sons that resonate with his own personal history. Because he does, the film touches on layers of intimacy missing from the Disney film.

The vocal performances are outstanding; Gregory Mann portrays Pinocchio as an insouciant, rebellious being who still needs his father’s love. Mann’s portrayal of the puppet as his manic curiosity wrecks Gepetto’s shop moments after he comes to life is fantastic. In a later scene, Pinocchio stares up at a wooden carving of Jesus and asks why the people love that figure made of wood but seem to fear and hate him. Mann also does a gleeful turn as Pinocchio mocks Benito Mussolini – Il Duce himself – to his face.

David Bradley is in fine form as Gepetto, whether he rejects the puppet as his son or embraces him with love. Ron Perlman makes an excellent Fascist official who emotionally abuses his own son, and Christoph Waltz brings both menace and charm to the role of Count Volpe, the ringmaster/puppetmaster and owner of the traveling show that enslaves Pinocchio. Special mention goes to Cate Blanchett, who supplies the vocalizations of Spazzatura, the monkey puppeteer who becomes Pinocchio’s ally. Tilda Swinton brings a touch of her role as the Ancient One from the MCU as the Wood Sprite and her sister, Death. Only Ewan McGregor is a bit off as Sebastian J. Cricket, sounding a touch too stiff and pedantic for the role. (In a humorous nod to the book, del Toro has Sebastian smashed by a hammer in one scene).

The stop-motion animation was handled by ShadowMachine animation services in Oregon, although del Toro relied on his own animation studio in Guadalajara for some scenes. The stop-motion quality is outstanding, my only quibble being the scene where Falco is killed by being blown off a cliff; he looks more like a toy than a human figure; still, the animation cannot be faulted in any way.

How does this film stack up against the numerous filmed versions/variations of the Pinocchio tale? Very well, indeed. It has been said that one of the most commendable aspects of the Disney classic was keeping the horror and darkness of the novel largely intact. By casting Pinocchio as a naif, Disney could use horror as a sharp contrast to the character. In the del Toro version, the dark and menacing themes are fully integrated into the story and the characters. The world of del Toro is cruel and mean; Pinocchio even dies several times in the film, with the stakes raised each time he is resurrected. The final analysis depends on the individual viewer’s (or critic’s) preferences. Disney’s version has technically superior animation, but del Toro’s take is more faithful to the novel’s spirit, even though he modified some characters and omitted others.

For my part, this is one of the best cinematic adaptations ever done, and it deserves all the accolades it has earned …as well as repeated viewing. One certainly can’t say that about Pinnochio In Outer Space.