As a subcategory of the horror genre, the exorcism film does not have the best reputation. For every The Exorcist, there are a dozen Posessed’s and Beyond the Door’s. Yet, when done well, there is rarely something as profoundly [...]
Guillermo del Toro has by now established himself as the master of the child horror-fantasy. His work–ranging from the brittle-cruel fairytale of Pan’s Labyrinth to the haunting ghost story behind The Devil's Backbone–is a ranging study of children’s unique potential to experience both horror and magic, enabled by an innate sense of wonder and lack of fear. Now, Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark adds another to his examination.
Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark may be billed as a remake, but it takes dozens of charming liberties from its 1973 original. Del Toro’s version follows Sally (Bailee Madison), a young girl sent to live with her estranged father, Alex (Guy Pearce) and his girlfriend, Kim (Katie Holmes). Alex and Kim are at work restoring the Blackwood Mansion, a towering structure of brick and dark wood trimmings.
Del Toro, who produced and co-wrote the film, arranges everything very carefully, so that the details of the house, the sounds, the lighting, all seem to drip with his influence. This movie possesses at times the haunting quietness of The Devil’s Backbone, at times the revolting horror of The Orphanage, and yet it is unlike any of its predecessors alone. Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark is marvelously polished, with hardly a misstep. Rarely does a filmmaker take an original and create a remake that is so clearly his own.
In part, this is due to his selection of fantastic and unconventional actors. Most notably, Madison is a twelve-year-old powerhouse. As Sally explores the house and, discovering its otherwordly inhabitants, tries to befriend them rather than escape, Madison is full of chastened curiosity and a struggle against emotion. The film aids her in that it does not try to make her cute, or give her charmingly childish things to say, or create jokes out of her youth. It instead leaves her alone to cry, to scream, to express her acute vulnerability.
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| Holmes returns to the screen as Kim |
However, the film really owes itself to del Toro’s formula. Aside from making a beautifully crafted film, he also defeats the most common downfall of the modern horror movie: the fact that the idiocy of the heroin is the driving force behind the plot, a trend that Neve Campbell’s Sideny Prescott describes as “some big-breasted girl who can't act who is always running up the stairs when she should be running out the front door.” By placing a child in this role, the film adjusts. There is plenty of the “Don’t go in there!” reaction, but the viewer forgives Sally for wandering into the basement, for looking under the bed. Rather than stupidity, we see that the film is driven by wonder, and it rings far truer than a heroine that manages to stumble and fall four times while being pursued, or one who never, ever remembers to pick up the gun.
But perhaps this wonder ought to be turned on del Toro, whose vision becomes more clear with each film he makes. As a group of films, Pan’s Labyrinth, The Orphanage, The Devil’s Backbone, and Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark form an inspiring and penetrating examination of the power of young imagination, and the danger of committing oneself too much to fantasy. Chiefly, what del Toro recognizes is the profundity of the darkness which exists in the human mind, and the ability of children to access this darkness without the fear that has been conditioned in adults.
While often marketed as horror films, they are in fact grisly fairy tales with the sort of unhappy endings that will creep on a viewer long after the lights come up. Don’t be surprised if you feel relieved when you walk out of the theater. Maybe everyone should be a little afraid of the dark.
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