Despite being one of the more cherished directors working today, Guillermo del Toro’s films may be considered an acquired taste. With the exception of a couple of films that are almost universally praised and adored, his work is quite divisive, which is less of an implication of him being a director that doesn’t register with everyone, and more a resounding testament to the fact that he is a director who stands by his convictions and makes the films that he truly wants to make. Personally, I have had many issues with a few of del Toro’s films – they can sometimes be quite overwrought, and like some of his artistic heroes, the definition of style over substance, which is not necessarily something that indicates a lack of talent, but rather a very specific kind of approach to the process of creating art that may not be for everyone. However, what cannot be debated is that he is an individual with a clear artistic vision, and the willingness to take many risks in bringing his ideas to the screen, even if it means polarizing his audiences. His most recent offering is Nightmare Alley, the second film adaptation of the novel by William Lindsay Gresham, which was previously brought to life by Edmund Goulding and star Tyrone Power (who sought out the role after growing weary of constantly being cast as valiant figures in genre pictures that made him a matinee star) in the late 1940s, an era in which the film noir was inarguably at its peak. Bringing this story to the screen today was a bold decision – in a landscape where the genre has developed into the neon-soaked grit of neo-noir, to make a film that not only pays homage to a bygone era in cinema, but also attempts to redefine the genre’s broadest tenets, is only achievable by a filmmaker with as assured a hand in his craft as del Toro, who has spent the last quarter of a century defining his directorial approach, which has seemingly culminated in longer breaks between films, but each one yielding increasingly impressive results – and Nightmare Alley is certainly the beneficiary of both time and effort, reflected in every frame of the film. 

Nightmare Alley stands as one of del Toro’s most ambitious productions from both a narrative and stylistic perspective. While it may not lean as heavily into the use of special effects as some of his other films (being one of the few filmmakers who can make a film driven by the spectacle, but not lose any of the emotion associated with it). He is undeniably a filmmaker with a vivid imagination and the skills to put them into practice, but some of his best work have been drawn from external sources. Adapting the novel by Gresham was a fascinating choice, particularly in how it was such a contradiction – it would be the first time del Toro would work in the film noir genre (which he has shown enormous appreciation for over time, infusing many of his films with elements plucked from certain entries into the genre, without ever having made one himself), but yet it also seemed like such a logical choice for the director, being the one most aligned with his sensibilities as a filmmaker. Considering Nightmare Alley is a film set between the worlds of carnivals and the neo-gothic brutalism of the high society, it seemed like this story was pandering directly to del Toro’s vision. He certainly doesn’t disappoint, and while the story may be a slight departure from what we’re used to seeing from del Toro, the heart of the film is quintessentially the work of the director, who is as invested in exploring this genre as he is when he is working in those to which he is most known for. He made a good choice in adapting something that was established (since his style naturally lends itself to exuberant demonstrations of artistic prowess, so it helps to have something to guide the narrative) but not so beloved that his work would be considered inferior, whether in regards to the original source material, or the previous film adaptation (which we’ve recently discovered has aged considerably well) – and instead, he manages to remain faithful to the text, while still putting his own distinctive mark on the project.

As a slightly more experimental work, in terms of how he playfully manipulates the genre to form something more aligned with his particular style (whether it be in form or content), Nightmare Alley sees the director trying a new ideas, and whether he succeeded or not is entirely up to the interpretation of the individual viewer, since its certainly not the kind of film that lends itself to a particularly easy reading, at least not in terms of the extent to which del Toro is engaging with some of the primary themes of the film, filtering it through his distinctly peculiar style. The director has always been something of an enigma, which has only become more clear as he has ventured further into the craft. He has the sage wisdom of an elder-statesman of cinema, one that has matured into his craft and has a firm grasp on the industry, while still has the rambunctious ambition of a much younger filmmaker, the same intense curiosity and desire to craft films along with his own unique style of storytelling that he had earlier in his career. The combination of the march of time and the raw talent that has seemingly never been even remotely extinguished is what makes del Toro such a fascinating filmmaker, his refusal to let go of that small but bright spark of curiosity being the primary reason behind each and every one of his films being worthwhile, regardless of their quality. This extends deep into Nightmare Alley, a film defined almost entirely by the director venturing into the unknown, both in terms of the subject matter and in how he engages with the material, since it was unlike anything he ever did before, at least in theory. Taking the source text, and reconfiguring it in a way that still reflects its key themes, but allows del Toro the space to work within his own style, the film feels like a genuinely interesting exploration of a few really interesting themes, done through a warped perspective designed to show us the underbelly of both sides of society, which facilitates so many captivating conversations, proving that this film is far more than just a straightforward noir put together by someone known for an almost fantastical artistic sensibility

One of the benefits of being a critically-acclaimed director known to produce films of high-quality and even higher audacity is that it allows them to work with some of the finest actors in the business, and del Toro certainly does take advantage of this small detail in casting Nightmare Alley. By nature of the story, the film employs an ensemble cast, with most of the roles being occupied by some incredible actors – the lead of the film is Bradley Cooper, who has grown into an actor who is capable of balancing so many different acting styles, a development that very few of us would’ve predicted possible as recently as a decade ago. In the role of Stanford Carlisle, the actor is astonishing – he plays this despicable, sycophantic narcissist with such conviction, it’s unsurprising why he has grown into such an acclaimed and versatile actor. Yet, this is the case with his co-stars, with Rooney Mara (at her most ethereal) and Cate Blanchett alternating between the protagonist’s love interests and business partners. Blanchett in particular is indulging in the opportunity to play another alluring villain, chewing scenery in a way only an actor as established and respected as she is possibly could. It’s always been a source of fascination how del Toro’s work is dependant on the entire cast, rather than just being centred on one or two main characters, with everyone else in the periphery – while Cooper is present throughout, and Mara and Blanchett are notable too, the rest of the ensemble is just as vital to the film’s success. Willem Dafoe, David Straithairn and Toni Collette are spellbinding in the first act, playing the carnival folk that welcome Carlisle into their world, only to have him betray them at the first opportune moment, while Richard Jenkins (who did some of his best work under del Toro’s direction in The Shape of Water) is absolutely heartbreaking as the lonely widower who seeks solace for a life of abuse and debauchery, and reaches out to the first person who seems to have the ability to solve his problems. It’s a strong cast, and Nightmare Alley eventually becomes almost entirely indebted to these stunning performances, who single-handedly help define this film and smoothen out some of its more questionable edges, which come about as a result of the director’s often experimental approach, which is contrasted with the polished performances by his gifted ensemble.

On both a narrative and visual level, Nightmare Alley is unmistakably a del Toro film, which brings with it the same sense of division, since for those who are on the director’s wavelength, the film may be an absolute delight, while for those who aren’t particularly enamoured with his style, it can feel like an exercise in treading the same ideas, but without the same spark of magic that made his other films so notable. There’s a certain gravity to this film that is difficult to not appreciate, especially since del Toro seems to be working from a more distinct set of ideas – it’s helpful to look at Nightmare Alley as a film about two different kinds of carnivals, the first being the very traditional fairground-bound spectacle, where freak shows and unprecedented feats reign supreme, the second the more subversive kind of carnival, that of the high-society, where the gritty, working-class malaise is replaced with urban debauchery, and where individuals still gain perverse pleasure from gawking at those they see beneath them, just hiding behind a facade of elegance. It leads to a very strange but captivating balance, especially in how smoothly the transition happens – del Toro has to be credited alongside director of photography Dan Laustsen (who has helmed the camera on numerous films directed by del Toro, being one of his most reliable collaborators), who was tasked with capturing the shifting worlds of Nightmare Alley, and Nathan Johnson, who composed the score that went along with it. As much as his vision as a director is extremely strong and worth seeing on its own, del Toro is only as good as his collaborators, and working closely with them, he evokes a very strong visual and aural landscape, in which it is so easy to get lost. Artistically, del Toro is always a filmmaker that we can appreciate, at least for his unique vision, and while he is not the first director who has defined his career around a warped version of the world, unlike some of his contemporaries, his style is rarely ever twee or overly gaudy – there is always substance underpinning the extravagant style, which only leads to a more nuanced and interesting combination of ideas and their gorgeous visual manifestations, making for profoundly riveting viewing.

Nightmare Alley is a film propelled by two very different themes, namely the grotesque and the glamorous. While these appear to be diametrically opposed to the point where any comparison between them is likely going to evoke the feeling of a contradiction, under the guidance of del Toro, it makes perfect sense. This is not a film that can be considered particularly easy to watch at times – it’s grisly and filled with violence and abuse, of both the physical and emotional kind. After all, this is a film where the main character is a man who makes a living off fooling people into believing that he can read their minds, which places him in the precarious position of being able to manipulate reality, which is a burden when dealing with someone who has very little interest in actually helping others. However, this is far from a film that is built on a particular message, with the extent of del Toro’s satirical ambitions remaining in the foundation of the narrative, used more as a platform for the increasingly hostile development of these characters in a world that is filled with despair and deception. It’s a fascinating film, partially a scathing social commentary on the role of certain individuals in shaping perception through taking advantage of those who are even slightly foolish enough to believe in their dishonest methods of manipulation, partially a deeply captivating character study that sets out to expose the brutal underbelly of society through the development of its central characters as maniacal villains, rather than endearing anti-heroes (holding numerous correlations with the modern world, almost to the point where one has to wonder whether the director and co-writer Kim Morgan were motivated by certain individuals in entertainment and politics who use the idea of being “showmen” to radicalize the crowds to do their bidding, proving that a cult of personality certainly does exist). It’s a complex and terrifying film that looks absolutely gorgeous, and feels like it was handcrafted by someone who had a genuine interest in this material. It’s undeniable that Nightmare Alley is not a film everyone will appreciate, since it is often quite disturbing – but once we get past the harrowing subject matter and its horrifying execution, we find ourselves immersed in the director’s hypnotic, mysterious world – and it all culminates in a harrowing but enthralling film noir masterpiece that proves that there is still life to be found in a dormant genre, granted someone truly passionate about it as del Toro is in command.