Geppetto (David Bradley), an aged woodcarver, has fallen into a deep depression when his son, Carlo (Gregory Mann), was lost after a missile was dropped on their small Italian town.  One night, angry and drunk, he carves a puppet in Carlo’s likeness, and while the old man is asleep, his home is visited by a Woodland Sprite (Tilda Swinton) who grants the puppet life, naming him Pinocchio (also, Gregory Mann) and charging Sebastion J. Cricket (Ewan McGregor) who was living in the tree from which Pinocchio was cut, with teaching the boy the difference between right and wrong. 

Guillermo del Toro brings his long-gestating version of Pinocchio to life, in collaboration with director Mark Gustafson and a co-written script with Patrick McHale.  Released by Netflix, the 117-minute stop-motion film is a reimagining of the classic Carlo Collodi story, bringing it forward in time to the rise of Mussolini and the fascist movement of war-torn Italy.  With structural integrity true to the original stories, the trademark del Toro style and themes, and original songs by del Toro and Roeban Katz and score by Alexandre Desplat – though it should be noted this is more of a film with moments of music rather than a traditional musical – Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio springs to life from the first frame to the last. 

The overall arc of the story stays the same: Pinocchio is granted life from a spirit, runs off to the circus, gets pulled deeper into corruption, then Geppetto in his search to find his son is swallowed by a whale, and after rescuing his father Pinocchio learns what it means to be a real boy.  This updated version, however, follows its own path introducing an expanded look at the balance between obedience and obligation – to family, church, and country – and it uses those three pillars to investigate the morality of our actions when we choose to obey or resist.  Set against the rise of fascism, Pinocchio finds himself in a military youth camp where he trains to be a soldier, and while the film does not spend too much time in this late act development, the concept of choice and commands is very much at the forefront of this act. 

With these expanded choices also comes the expanded concept of life and death.  While the Woodland Spirit granted Pinocchio his life, he was not truly alive so he cannot truly die, as is explained to him from Death (also, Tilda Swinton), though the time it takes before he will become, for lack of a better word, reanimated, will grow each time he “dies.”  It is a very interesting concept when added to the story, and it skirts the temptation to be an easy way to teach Pinocchio lessons because instead, Death is more interesting in teaching Pinocchio the value of life.  The script carefully avoids spending too much time in this underworld – though the trio of rabbits (Tim Blake Nelson) that shuttle Pinocchio into the afterlife are quite a joy – but it still gives audiences enough time to think with Pinocchio what could he have done better to avoid this layover, because as Death reminds the puppet that while he is essentially immortal, his loved ones are not and every second in this purgatory is a minute closer to the finite death of those he holds dear.  It is an incredibly sad addition to the themes of the story, but one that works so well, and brings in the further complications and complexities of love and of life in such a poignant and poetic way that few besides del Toro are able to capture and convey so effectively on screen. Love is a sacrifice, and it is often difficult to navigate as we follow our conscience and hope it is leading us down the best path, the correct path, but sometimes that is not always the case.   

It goes without saying that the character design in this film is some of the finest around with so much care and thought put into not just what these people will look like, but where they have come from, too.  Nothing looks fresh and out of the box, even Pinocchio himself is blemished and unfinished, but this is not a rich town so its residents mend and repair before they outright buy new and that lifestyle is reflected in everything around them.  The buildings are aged and the clothes are all patched, there is resilience, and in turn, perseverance, which Geppetto and Sebastion must instill in Pinocchio who does not have the same luxury of context or understanding of the world. Much like a real boy with wide and curious eyes, he is allured by the promises of riches and excitement and hot chocolate which Count Volpe’s (Christoph Waltz) traveling circus can provide, against the lessons of hard work from his father. 

Returning to the design, which very much draws on del Toro’s affection for creatures and monsters, most notably is Pinocchio who is tall and lanky and moves erratically like something out of a horror movie.  It is so incredible that such an obvious choice to not stylize a crude wooden puppet to look like a cherub has such an effect on the story, but this design helps to inform so much of the plot like when the townspeople decry witchcraft when Pinocchio enters the church.  It leads to a heartbreaking realization from the boy that the people love the wooden man on the cross, another work by his father, but they are frightened and hateful towards him, despite both being made of wood. This is just one of the many exchanges between Geppetto and Pinocchio which have a level of tenderness and true, real emotion that does not often come through in other adaptions of the story. Many of the magic elements of the film – Sebastion, the Woodland Sprite, and Death – all share this similarly carved style, but one of the most poignant choices is Geppetto sharing some likeness with the director, an ode to his care and love for the Collodi’s story given the woodcarver’s dedication to his son, Carlo, no doubt named in memory of the author. Even with all of the darker tones where magic is concerned, when it is coupled with Mann’s very emotive vocal performance, those horror elements remain, but Pinocchio becomes an incredibly sympathetic character to follow as he eagerly wants to learn about the world around him. He wants what all children want: to understand and to be understood. 

The Desplat score also blends the magic and the grounded elements of the story as he creates whimsical tones with a wood-based orchestra, but the most impressive part of the music in the film is Katz’s lyric work. There is so much heart in the songs, and lyrically they have a sad undertone that is reminiscent of Sondheim in both their construction and utilization of thematic double entendres. It is notable that the songs also come about naturally whereas more traditionally conceived animated musicals find the plot working in service to the songs, as in the narrative often just sets the stage for the songs, but in this latest iteration of Pinocchio, the songs serve a clear narrative purpose and fit in as part of the story. The best example of this is “Ciao, Papa” which serves a triple purpose: opening audiences up to Pinocchio’s feelings of loss having left Geppetto, giving Count Volpe a catchy song and dance number for his show, and most surprisingly is when it is reprised and transforms into a going off to war song.  

Pinocchio as a character has seen a resurgence in popularity in recent years, but few have embraced and expanded on the themes of discovering oneself quite like del Toro. It is beautifully animated and a true work of art that revitalizes this story in new ways proving that there can still be power in adaptations. The dark nature of the tale, especially with the threat of war looming heavily over the third act, may be a little much for the very young, but Mann’s exuberant performance can help ease the frightened, and the young actor shows great comedic delivery which also helps ease the sting of fear. There is so much magic to be discovered in this film, and the details of the characters and environments also lend themselves to enriching rewatches. With Pinocchio, del Toro continues to prove his mastery over intentionally crafted, yet wild fantasy by creating parallel worlds of wonder that run adjacent to our very own, and therefore allow us to better understand our own human condition.