Devil's Due
Horror
auteur Guillermo del Toro finally delivers.
Ever
since his debut film Cronos, Spanish director Guillermo del Toro has
been the focus of much undue adulation among critics and the Internet community
of self-professed horror geeks. The problem is that del Toro's work thus far
simply doesn't measure up to this kind of talk. Cronos' biggest novelty
was that it was bilingual; had it all been shot in English and not won an award
at
But with The Devil's
Backbone, del Toro is dealing with subject matter that is clearly very
meaningful to him personally, taking on both the Spanish Civil War -- a subject
not especially familiar to contemporary Western audiences -- and the atrocious
conditions that may be found in all-male boarding schools, something the
director experienced first-hand as a youngster. Set at one such school in the
middle of a vast and seemingly infinite plain, where an unexploded bomb is the
centerpiece of the courtyard and the giant bloody crucifix on display has
skinned knees for extra authenticity, The Devil's Backbone is half
horror movie, half war drama, though never both at once. The film often seems
to get off track when it steers away from the ghosts and into social
statements, but the two threads ultimately connect in a satisfactory manner.
Our protagonist is young Carlos
(Fernando Tielve), a war orphan dropped off at this desolate place in exchange
for some of the gold that has been stockpiled by the one-legged headmistress,
Carmen (Marisa Peredes), whose prosthetic limb resembles G.I. Joe by way of the
Marquis de Sade. The gold, we are told, is no good to her; why is never clear,
though it's implied that perhaps it's too valuable to be worth trading with any
of the local merchants. Among the other adults in residence are caretaker
Jacinto (Eduardo Noriega), a grown orphan who resents the place but sticks
around to nail both the comely cook Conchita (Irene Visedo) and Carmen, from
whom he hopes to gain access to the gold; and the elderly Dr. Casares
(Frederico Luppi), our narrator and father figure for all the boys.
Carlos has barely been at the
school five minutes before he catches sight of what looks like a dead child
staring out at him from behind a darkened window. Swiftly disappearing and
reappearing in shocking fashion as movie ghosts are wont to do, this
asthmatic-sounding spirit is dubbed "the one who sighs," and is
widely assumed to be Santi, a boy who disappeared the night the unexploded bomb
fell. Chances are better than average that he's also the child shown drowning
in brownish fluid during the film's opening sequence.
Meanwhile, the usual school
traumas of bullies and punishments are in effect, and Jacinto shows a nasty
penchant for violence, slashing Carlos' cheek with a knife as punishment for
defending himself against an aggressor. In the world outside, the war is
getting closer, and the school may have to be abandoned. With all these
hassles, one might think there'd be little time to deal with a phantom boy who
breathes heavily and knocks over water jugs, but there he is nonetheless,
intentions unknown, occasionally opening his mouth to proclaim, "Many of
you will die." When finally revealed up close, he is certainly a sight to
see: Del Toro has created one of the most visually distinctive ghosts ever to
hit the big screen.
As
for the film's title, it's based on a throwaway conversation, the setup for a
gross-out joke that's best left unrevealed here. The sensitive art-house viewer
should be warned: Though slow-moving at first, the film ends in explosions and
violent death, with a level of sadism that will undoubtedly prove too intense
for some viewers. That may be the point, as del Toro clearly feels that the
Spanish Civil War was gratuitously violent, and boarding schools unflinchingly
harsh, but he's none too delicate about making his intentions clear. As Mimic
proved, he has none of the usual Hollywood qualms about killing off children,
but for those who can stomach this kind of thing, he's delivered a haunting
work of art that will stay with you for some time.