Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio (2022)

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Two of the greatest filmmakers of our generation came out with adaptations of Carlo Collodi’s Pinocchio this year. One of those directors has been experiencing a steep career decline over the past two decades, while the other is coming off two consecutive Best Picture nominations (including one win).

The issue with Robert Zemeckis’ Pinocchio from earlier this year is that it reminds us too much of a far superior movie, being a misguided remake of Disney’s 1940 original. Conversely, with his version of Pinocchio Guillermo del Toro decided to try his own hand at the 19th century tale by constructing a stop-motion picture, and succeeds by never once making us think about Disney at all.

Instead, del Toro takes the 1883 Italian novel and sets it against a 1930s pre-War backdrop. We open with a beautiful prologue that shows Geppetto (David Bradley), a wood carver and a single father, raising his 10-year-old son, Carlo, during the first World War. Perhaps the best part of the film, this segment gives Geppetto his humanity — an aspect that’s lost in other adaptations that focus too much on the magical and the surreal — and before any fantasy elements are able to get in the way.

Suddenly, Carlo dies from an aerial bomb dropped from an enemy plane, leaving Geppetto to spend the next twenty years in agony. Since there’s no body to bury, the man plants a pinecone picked out by Carlo shortly before his passing. From that cone sprouts a tree that eventually gets cut down in a rage by Geppetto, who drunkenly creates a wooden boy in the likeness of his son. The director never explicitly tells us how much time has passed after Carlo’s death, but we can get an idea from the grain lines on the wooden boy’s face — an ingenious touch.

Soon after, a magical Wood Sprite (Tilda Swinton) gives life to the ostensible puppet named Pinocchio and an anthropomorphic cricket (Ewan McGregor) is assigned to (also ostensibly) take care of him. Instantly, Geppetto is repelled by the wooden boy, whose cloying enthusiasm for life borders on creepiness at first. However, the old man acquiesces to the task and does his best under the extraneous circumstances, even when pressure from the society around him threatens to cast him out because of it.

With a filmography riddled with glaring influences from Universal monster movies and carnival freak shows, del Toro is no stranger to the macabre. And Pinocchio’s source material is nothing if not dark and twisted — elements that, with all its shooting stars and fairy dust, Disney’s groundbreaking 1940 animated classic could only hope to bury. Featuring a haunting afterlife, as well as sequences that show our protagonist getting shot and killed by Mussolini and having his feet burn to ash, del Toro’s Pinocchio is the one we’ve been waiting for ever since Shelley Duvall’s Faerie Tale Theatre episode starring Paul Reubens in the ‘80s.

However, better than any of the others, del Toro’s iteration balances fantasy and realism exceptionally, giving actual richness to its protagonist, which typically gets lost amidst the more allegorical adaptations. That’s not to say the fantasy in this Pinocchio isn’t assertive, though the humanity at its center offers a verisimilitude to its surrealism in a way that makes it more fluid as an actual movie compared to the others. And it also might be the first time we actually like Pinocchio, the character.

Disney’s original Pinocchio from 1940 is a masterpiece, but a flawed masterpiece. It falls victim to dated narrative conventions and hasty character development. Much like Walt did for his magnum opus, del Toro has a pretty firm grasp on his intentions. This 2022 Pinocchio is all about the relationship between a father and his son as shown by the way the film swaps protagonists halfway through.

At first, we see a prudent, earnest man who’s lost his faith after he loses Carlo, followed by the difficult time he has raising a second child, especially as a single parent. After all, Geppetto’s wife was still alive when his first son, Carlo, was young. His love — nay, admiration — for Carlo gives him unconscious expectations for Pinocchio that prevent him from really embracing him as his own son at first. The film is initially about Geppetto and his journey, until it becomes about Pinocchio and his as he learns to suppress his desire to be loved in favor of his desire to be good.

Although born with love and enthusiasm for life and the people in it, he has to earn the love of others. It makes it difficult to have morals when everyone applauds when your nose grows from lying, and when you create more enemies by doing the right thing.

There have always been several Biblical parallels built into the Pinocchio tale. And del Toro’s film isn’t without its Christian roots, such as Geppetto’s own Catholicism and his work carving the Crucifix for the local church. Later on, Pinocchio, the savior of this story, is created by his father and is given a guardian tasked with teaching him morality on Earth. Pinocchio is even crucified and can rise from the dead. And that’s not to mention the inherent Adam and Eve analogy.

Alternatively, the movie also displays plenty of evidence for del Toro’s atheism. Geppetto struggles with his faith after the death of his son, but when he (angrily) prays to God for help, it’s a very Pagan-looking figure who gives him what he wants instead. In del Toro’s world, both Christianity and Paganism can find credence. But his inability to reconcile one with the other creates unwanted friction thematically.

The director does, however, creatively use a Biblical story within his picture. Borrowing from the Judgement of Solomon, del Toro has Geppetto and the villain playing a game of tug-of-war with Pinocchio. In the traditional story, two women claim to be the rightful mother of a baby, and so Solomon readies to cut the baby in half for distribution amongst them. It isn’t until the real mother protests this strategy, prioritizing her baby’s life over her own pride. Here, this instance is inverted, playing out as a game of tug-o-war between Geppetto and the villain (Christoph Waltz) with Pinocchio in the middle. Since it takes place prior to Geppetto finding his love for Pinocchio, he’s the one who comes away holding his son’s arm in the end.

At last, Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio may be a flawed masterpiece in its own right. The director can’t seem to justify the inconsequential presence of the talking cricket and the conflicting tone that comes with such a creation. As such, he flubs much of the third act despite the poignant ending. Fortunately, there’s no lack of intrigue here as we witness what might be the most impressive display of stop-motion ever seen and also the most well-made version of Pinocchio put to film.