Guillermo del Toro's Pinocchio Review!

Alright! In 2022's third (!) notable rendition of the classic story of Pinocchio, after the "yassified" one and the soulless Disney one, Guillermo del Toro has a take on the puppet who lived - that is, to say, a dark stop motion fantasy set in fascist Italy, a dazzling adventure with a scale, purpose, and emotional resonance, and one of the year's best films - Typical del Toro stuff. 

The first absolute that goes without saying is that Pinocchio is gorgeous. Very rarely are stop motion projects phoned in and not artistically driven, and Pinocchio is just as valid as Isle of Dogs, Coraline, and The Nightmare Before Christmas before it. The minute details and loving craftsmanship of everyone involved show in every single frame - literally. Never before has stop motion looked as fantastic as it does here, never before has it felt so wide in scope and scale. The visuals are absolutely fantastic the entire time. 

The medium seems to lend itself to darker and more twisted children's films (Such as Shaun the Sheep: Farmageddon) and Pinocchio is no exception. Taking the classic tale and setting it against the backdrop of Mussolini's Italy just takes the already heavy tale and makes it into a downright terrifying look at the horrors and pain of war. While the fascist backdrop occasionally becomes no more than mere salad dressing for the film, it still finds an admirable way to influence and drive all of the major plot points. 

Dramatic imagery and themes are prevalent throughout the film, and one can't help but be awed by the visual luster of the fantasy elements. A particularly stunning wood sprite and the personification of death, taking clear inspiration from the biblical angels, feel wild and imaginative, terrifying forces to be feared. Fear, above all else, but still retaining a beauty that astonishes. Poker-playing pallbearer rabbits only add to this fearful beauty, creepy and twisted in a way that made the show stop. 

That imagery continues with the title character. Pinocchio looks like Frankenstein's monster here, a hodgepodge of wood made by a woodworker who drunkenly grieves his way through Creation. The result is a skinny but chipper young lad with the singing voice of an angel, a benign but freakishly strong destructive force of nature that seeks to educate itself. The stop motion puts great strides into that of the wooden boy, creating an ever more interesting take on the character that's superbly written and sublime to watch as he trips his way across town and repeats all he can see. 

I appreciated how much growth was in the film. Pinocchio often repeats what other characters say and do, mimicking actions and imagery that he sees (In the most haunting moment of the film, he replicates Jesus on the crucifix). Agency is a major theme of the movie. Pinocchio is allowed to make his own decisions, some altruistic, some misguided, and others purely chaotic and selfish in origin - the latter being the entire point of the tale. Words cannot express how appreciative I am of the fact that they allowed the protagonist to be anything other than purely good. 

However, the movie is not without fault. Much like the 1940 Disney counterpart, there's one memorable song that's sure to go far ("I've Got No Strings" and "Ciao, Papa") and four or five others that people completely forget exist. I didn't particularly mind any of them, but some of them, specifically the one Count Volpe ("Volpe" is Italian for "Fox") sings to introduce himself, could have been cut for a leaner runtime. 

My only real issue with Pinocchio is that it missed the mark in a few places that only could be reached by this movie. A live-action remake is off the table. No one else is going to attempt the "Pinocchio set in fascist Italy" shtick. The back draw of a wholly unique premise is that whatever Pinocchio does it has to do perfectly and if it has eternal nitpicks. My nitpick? When Pinocchio goes to Pleasure Island/The Land of Toys, this version has him going to a youth camp. In the original tale, the young boys turn into donkeys, and I assumed Pinocchio's friends would become full-blown war-loving fascists by the time they got through the system. However, the movie takes a turn for the worse as the young boys begin to rebel against the podestà. It's a double-edged sword - the message of the segment as it stands is that war is bad and that children are not yet corrupted by radicalization, which, while a great message, had the better alternative of war is absolutely terrifying and changes everyone. 

Again, extreme nitpick, and the final form of the film is perfectly fine. It's just fodder for my second "Easy Fixes that would've made movies THAT Much Better" article. It's a movie that dazzles you with animation, wows you with the imagery, and then has you questioning life afterward. It's visceral in every aspect, a movie designed to provoke deep thoughts about life while still retelling a classic story. It's refreshing that, in an age where more and more movies focus on crossovers and CGI bonanzas, to walk away from a movie feeling small in the universe. To feel moved by it. And that's what Pinocchio does. 

Unrelated to the movie, but the most common remark I've seen about this movie online is the fact that it's better than Disney's 2022 live-action remake. Guys, stop comparing the two. It's a disservice for Guillermo del Toro's Pinocchio to be said in the same breath as an uninspired Disney+ nostalgia grab. Of course it's better, they actually gave a damn when making this one. It's like everyone who said Zack Snyder's Justice League was better than the 2017 theatrical Justice League... like, yeah, low bar. This Pinocchio is on a level where it rivals the 1940s classic for the title of "definitive." 

Overall, I give Guillermo del Toro's Pinocchio an 8/10. "A darker tone emulated by stop motion, Pinocchio is a fascinating and visceral take on the tale from Guillermo del Toro."