juniper pearl adores foreign film unlikely to dominate u.s. box office; nation rocked

watch pan's labyrinth. then watch it again. then watch it again. when you're done, watch pan's labyrinth. after that, watch it again. once it's over, watch pan's labyrinth. at that point you should be ready to begin sculpting a tiny idol shaped like guillermo del toro, which you will want to build a small but elaborate and tasteful shrine to in your yard or garden—some place where it will be cradled in soil and the sound of growing things. you might also want to fashion a second one, slightly smaller, that you can wear as a charm to remind you that the phrase "a fairy tale for grown-ups" is nonsensical and redundant. fairy tales are written by grown-ups, they're told and retold and embraced and remembered and passed on by grown-ups; they're only heard by children, and they aren't really important to them then. they become important later, when those children become adults and the color starts to bleed out of their lives, and they realize how essential that magic was, what all of those grown-ups were trying to accomplish with those stories. we tell our children fairy tales because we are grown-ups, and our days are so rarely beautiful or capable of inspiring hope or faith or neatly tied off in happy endings. children already believe that the world is full of brave, pure hearts and hidden miracles; we're the ones who can't keep sight of such things, in or outside of ourselves.

but we can read a story and remember, and we can watch this movie and be grateful that someone has been kind enough to remind us. and if you're afraid you'll forget that the next story starts with you, that you have to believe in and live that beauty before it can exist elsewhere, you can watch it again. and i think you should watch it again.