My Hat of Magical Realism

I was waiting for Mr. Bile to write his review of Pan's Labyrinth before posting a rebuttal, "Panned Labyrinth," but I was exposed to even deadlier levels of magical realism in the meantime. So allow me to fire the opening shots. Perhaps he will fight back later this week with his magic chalk that has the power to draw on walls.

In one week, I've seen two films that embraced magical realism to some degree. For those of you unfamiliar with the term, magical realism is a contemporary genre in which magic or magical creatures appear in pretentious fiction obstensively set in the real world (Not The Real World. That would actually be kind of cool. "Dude, there's a kappa in the hot tub!"), often to little effect. It's fantasy that refuses to come out of the closest. I mean, you can't expect to get your MBA with a thesis novel titled The Tengu Trilogy, Book 1: The Goblinwood Oxcart, can you?

Pan's Labyrinth is a good example of what I hate about magical realism. Though there is a connection between the fairy tale C-story and the Spanish Revolution plot, the consequences of the the fairy tale could be interpreted as coincidental. Goat Boy and Eye Hands never come out of the walls to aid the Resistance. Hey, I've got a great idea. Let's remake Big Trouble in Little China and have all the monsters only appear to Egg Shen and Eddie Lee. (Actually, that sounds pretty cool, too. It would at least explain why Miao Yin looks about as Asian as Pamela Anderson. "They were crazy Asian guys the whole time!")

Pan's Labyrinth is textbook magical realism. Did the magic make a difference or was it all imagined? What if there are invisible beet creatures that interact with us on a karmic level that we can't see? What if I cared?

Then last night I watched the first 20 minutes of Little Miss Sunshine. While those minutes didn't appropriate fantasy tropes in the traditional sense, the movie does focus on a family of faux Wes Anderson characters who could not exist in the real world. If my ugly teenager decided to stop speaking for several months...fine. Take away his paper, his pen, his computer, his text message allowance, his Scrabble tiles, and his food until he does. (This is probably why Mr. Bile tells me I'd make a good parent.) Unless you admit you're making a full-fledged fantasy or science fiction story, I refuse to take your kid who doesn't speak until dramatically appropriate seriously. Hodor!