'Pan's Labyrinth' (2006) Review: Guillermo del Toro’s Dark Fantasy Still Haunts Us 20 Year On
By Shauna Bushe - October 30, 2026
Twenty years after its release, Guillermo del Toro’s Pan's Labyrinth remains a towering milestone of modern dark fantasy. Released in an era dominated by green-screen blockbusters and sweeping, heroic epics, Guillermo’s masterpiece endures precisely because it feels entirely handcrafted and is a film that understands that real mythic stories do not exist to soothe us but to give us shape to our deepest nightmares.
The true horror of Pan’s Labyrinth has never been its monsters, but its history. Set five years after the end of the Spanish Civil War, the story follows young Ofelia as she travels with her pregnant mother Carmen to a remote mountain mill. There, her new stepfather, Captain Vidal of Franco's Falangist army is in control. Del Toro roots the human realm in a suffocating reality, the environment a backdrop of hopelessness and unforgiving nature. Vidal himself embodies the nightmare of fascism: a man obsessed with control, time, and absolute obedience, constantly winding his dead father’s pocket watch. The violence in his realm is sudden and brutal, executed without humanity, just pure military precision.
To survive the bleak, tyrannical space, Ofelia escapes to a subterranean realm – in true Guillermo style he makes sure this alternate world is far from a simple sanctuary. Guided through by an enigmatic Faun, an ancient creature covered in moss, sculptured by bark and stone, Ofelia discovers she is the lost Princess Moanna of the underworld and to reclaim her true lineage she must complete 3 tasks.
The three tasks are completed, but not without testing Ofelia's courage, will power and moral compass. Firstly, Ofelia is tasked with retrieving a gold key from a bloated toad who represents how the elite gorge themselves, leaving the remaining populous to starve. It’s Ofelia's choice to rely on cleverness and not comply with greed which helps her pass this test. Secondly, she enters the chamber of the Pale Man to retrieve a gold dagger, tasked without eating from the table. Although Ofelia faulters by eating two grapes, she manages to escape by being spatially aware and resourceful. And lastly, the Faun demands the blood of her infant brother to open the portal to the other world, but Ofelia refuses and chooses self-sacrifice instead. Breaking the curse of violence against the innocent.
The effort to break Ofelia are ultimately futile, as her journey proves that power of choice and personal freedom is always within reach. She is a defiantly human character, one who despite yielding to brief temptation, refuses to act on impulse or exploit others. In the end, her courage, passion and love triumphs over the brutal reality of her everyday world.
Where Vidal's world is bound by slate greys, cold blues and harsh military order, Ofelia's underworld is visualised through intoxicating warmth. Rich in deep crimson, golden ambers and architecture that entices childlike curiosity. Yet, the charming visual comfort is deceptively treacherous and far from welcoming refuge. It’s an environment as dangerous as the fascist reality above, testing Ofelia’s agency, disobedience and courage at every turn.
Del Toro’s refusal to rely on digital polish gives these realms their enduring weight, offering a fairy tale written in the visual language of nightmares, heavily weathered and violently alive reflecting realities sharpest edges. Brought to life through extraordinary foam-latex prosthetics and physical suits worn by Doug Jones, the creatures possess an undeniable spatial presence. When the Faun leans into the frame, you feel the grain of moss and the rot of ancient wood; when Ofelia crawls through the muddy roots of a dying fig tree to retrieve a golden key from a bloated toad, the grime and dampness cling to her clothes in a way CGI simply cannot replicate.
The shapeshifting king, Doug Jones, is the powerhouse that moves this film from fantasy to full blown horror. As the Pale Man he is deathly silent, relying on spider-like movements with a predatory edge. Del Toro designed the Pale Man to mirror Vidal, reinforcing the theme of authoritarian power feeding off the innocent. As the Fawn, Jones insisted on memorizing extensive spoken dialogue in poetic Spanish. Del Toro initially wanted to dub Jones, but Jones learned the archaic language and with Ofelia's cues, he was able to bring a fluid performance on set capturing the eerie tone Del Toro imagined.
Whether Ofelia’s kingdom is a literal afterlife or a dying child’s heroic solace remains one of cinema's most debated endings. Yet twenty years later, that ambiguity is precisely why the film lingers in our memory. Guillermo del Toro crafted a fairy tale that does not comfort you in the darkness, demonstrating that while fascism and tyranny can crush the flesh, imagination, and moral defiance remain entirely beyond their reach.
For its 20th anniversary 'Pan's Labyrinth' has returned to cinemas from October 30, 2026.
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Shauna Bushe
Writer
Shauna is always down to talk about movie lore, collector of all things physical media and driven by a life long love for horror cinema.
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