Directed by Pablo Berger. Starring Sofía Oria, Macarena García, Maribel Verdú, Daniel Giménez Cacho. 105 minutes.

Fairytales are uniquely dark. Parents die, step parents exhibit cannibalistic tendencies, beautiful women are frequently rendered unconscious just so men can slip them some tongue – and they’re the happy ones.
Spanish writer-director Pablo Berger isn’t afraid to embrace this darkness. His quirky and kinky take on Snow White features death, danger and cock-based misadventures. Set in 1920s Seville, Sofía Oria and later Macarena García play the titular heroine, who is abused by a philandering stepmother (Pan’s Labyrinth’s Maribel Verdú). She’s a manipulative siren who enjoys S&M far more than parenthood or compassion. When Snow White finally escapes, she’s adopted by a troupe of bullfighting dwarves, unwittingly fulfilling her matador father’s legacy.
A silent film in black and white, the tale’s melodramatic roots suit the medium, and Berger plays up the grotesque nature of the genre’s overly made-up women; all theatrical costumes, overactive eyebrows and running mascara. Meanwhile, the spicy flamenco-infused score and stunning setting evoke a flamboyant beauty.
But despite winning ten Goyas (the Spanish Oscars), Blancanieves is not on a level with The Artist. The cinematography lurches between over-conceptualised and gimmicky, with shaky cams and standard ratios ruining the silent movie effect. The screenplay is indulgent too, sequences running too long and most of the title cards redundant.
Blancanieves casts a spell but it is more light charm than life-altering enchantment.