Film: The Milk Of Sorrow
Release date: 4th October 2010
Certificate: E
Running time: 94 mins
Director: Claudia Llosa
Starring: Magaly Solier, Susi Sánchez, Efraín Solís, Bárbara Lazón, Marino Ballon
Genre: Drama
Studio: Dogwoof
Format: DVD
Country: Spain/Peru
Following an Oscar nomination for Best Foreign Picture, The Milk Of Sorrow brought director Claudia Loser to the attention of world audiences. Here, that film is packaged with her directorial debut, Madeinusa. Both films are concerned with the emotional journey of characters played by her muse Magaly Solier, and offer meditations on sex, violence and death in Peruvian society.
The Milk Of Sorrow
The Milk Of Sorrow is a film steeped in sex and death. Opening with a deathbed lullaby about rape, the narrative goes on to describe the turbulent family life of Fausta as her nosebleed and fainting begin a tale of mourning, marriage and the intrusion of Peru’s tumultuous history on its present.
With her uncle insisting that Fausta bury her mother prior to her cousin Aida’s wedding, the film explores the grieving daughter’s experience of reconciling the loss of her mother, and her final links to Peru’s past, with the joy and optimism of her family’s future…
The Milk Of Sorrow opens with a black screen, over which can be heard the faint, cracked voice of a lullaby being softly sung. Melodic yet brutal, the song unflinchingly describes the brutal rape of a pregnant woman who was forced to eat her own husband’s penis. That woman is Perpetua (Bárbara Lazón) and the child she was carrying is Fausta (Magaly Solier), the film’s main protagonist. It’s an extremely touching scene: the gentle melody juxtaposed against the horrific lyrics is jarring, and still more so as the singer is revealed to be an extraordinarily frail old lady. Having given up her song, Perpetua passes away.
The titular ‘the milk of sorrow’ is an affliction which Fausta has ‘inherited’ from her mother. As she suffers from a nosebleed and faints, her uncle suggests that the trauma of her mother’s ordeal was transmitted to her via breast milk. Searching for a more plausible explanation, Fausta’s doctor suggests that the cause of her ongoing medical problems is more likely to be a potato which she inserted into herself as a barrier to unwanted sexual advances. Either way, it seems that the reason for her ailments lies in misguided or archaic beliefs. With a background such as hers, it’s little wonder that Fausta is a nervous and timid character.
Fausta is given the opportunity to shed some of her inhibitions and build her self confidence when it becomes her task to transport her mother’s body from her home in Lima to her native village. Needing cash to make this happen, she takes a job working as a maid for a wealthy musician. The contrast between the calm and wealth of her employer’s home and Fausta’s busy, bustling life are immediately apparent – especially given the tracking shot which follows Fausta through a heaving marketplace on her way to her new job. The stillness and quiet are underscored by lingering shots of a silent Fausta awaiting instruction in an empty hall.
Having met her new employer, Aida (Susi Sánchez), Fausta cuts away a small piece of the potato which she keeps inside herself. Although perhaps a tad clumsy, this eccentrically symbolic act marks the beginning of Fausta’s journey to self-discovery. Resisting the temptation to rush the process, progress is hesitant and halting with false dawns and setbacks marking the way.
The most notable of these setbacks occurs following an agreement between Fausta and Aida. After one of her necklaces breaks, Aida promises to give her maid one of the loose pearls every time she sings for her. With her mother’s funeral to pay for, Fausta agrees, despite feeling embarrassed by the arrangement. It’s an underplayed scene: Magaly Solier’s performance is rarely anything other than subdued. As the two characters pick the pearls up from the bathroom floor, they come closer to each other in the middle of the frame. It’s a beautifully choreographed moment – even the manner in which the characters retrieve the spilt pearls speaks volumes about them. When Fausta eventually realises that Aida’s motives aren’t purely to hear her sing, another blow is struck against her awakening self.
The performance of Solier is absolutely central to the movie. She’s a beautiful and engaging presence. Her features are delicate, but there is steely determination in her eyes. Often filmed in close-up, she reflects rather than acts – often without words. Yet every dent to her pride registers – sometimes almost imperceptibly – on her face. It’s a portrayal suffused in melancholy which manages to anchor the emotion of the film without dragging it down.
The Milk Of Sorrow is framed magnificently and looks wonderful. At its heart is an enigmatic acting performance, and it has a lot to say about recent Peruvian history and the role of women in its society. Its not hard to see why it received an Oscar nomination – the story of a girl with a difficult background making good is very ‘Hollywood’ – but its just as easy to see why it did not win. It’s a difficult film to love – some of its metaphors are clunky, and its imagery a little too obvious. But despite this, it’s thought provoking and well worthy of attention.
Madeinusa
Claudia Llosa’s directorial debut is a beguiling mixture of Peruvian and religious tradition and traditional Western. Even the main protagonist’s name – and the title itself - is a twist on the expression ‘made in the USA’. But the issues addressed by the film are far more serious than the pun-based title might suggest.
In the remote village of Mayacunya, life has been largely unchanged for years. Here, Madeinusa (Magaly Solier) and her sister Chale (Yiliana Chong) share the home of their father, the town mayor. Madeinusa is clearly his favourite: his sexual advances towards her are rebuffed early in the piece. Coupled with the jealousy of her sister and the pain of her mother’s abandonment, Madeinusa has little comfort but for a box of possessions her mother left behind. But as the Holy Time draws closer, a stranger from the city arrives. How will he affect a community unused to strangers and a family which is at the point of falling apart?
The opening scenes see immediate parallels drawn between Madeinusa, the village girl of an Incan descent and Salvador (Carlos J de la Torre), a ‘gringo’ geologist from Lima. Her world is one of domesticity, rat-poisoning, gentle song and removing lice from her sister’s hair. Salvador, meanwhile, listens patiently to the inane ramblings of his driver, whilst growing increasingly exasperated at a situation which sees a flooded road halt his progress. His outsider status is established from the outset – his clothes and manner are markedly different, and his cynical smile underlines this.
The sense of intrusion continues as Madeinusa’s father, Cayo (Juan Ubaldo Huamán) returns home drunk and clambers into bed between his two daughters. Whilst Chale pretends to sleep, he begins to grope Madeinusa. Played with an almost weary resignation, it’s a strangely unsettling experience watching the young daughter reasoning with her father that he cannot sleep with her – yet. As Cayo’s face looms large on the screen, recognition flickers in his eyes and he falls asleep – to the relief of all parties.
That Madeinusa was able to deter her father was due to the impending Holy Time celebrations. With the town gearing up for the festivities with music, colourful decorations and alcohol it becomes apparent to a western audience that something potentially unsavoury is afoot: comparisons with The Wickerman would not be far from the mark. In a celebration which clearly takes its lead from Easter, the Holy Time focuses on the period between Jesus’s death and resurrection. The villagers believe that in this time sins are invisible to the Lord and, as a result, anything goes – even sleeping with your own children.
The film refuses to cast judgement or take the side of either the interloper from the city or the village locals. As such, the villagers are shown neither to be innocent or cruel – this refusal to point fingers allows the audience to make up its own mind on an ambiguity, which would almost certainly have been eradicated in a more mainstream picture. Despite this, there is a reluctance to allow Salvador to witness the celebrations and he’s locked in Cayo’s house out of the way.
When Salvador and Madeinusa’s paths inevitably cross, there is an immediate attraction. With the gaze of God averted, this leads to a sexual encounter which is anything but romantic. It’s little more than a quick knee trembler and doesn’t serve the plot particularly well. To believe that an urbane city dweller would fall so quickly for a village girl on the basis of this particular shared experience is something of a stretch. Having lost her virginity earlier in the day, the inevitable happens and Cayo also sleeps with his daughter – aware that Salvador has done so first.
The tension is ramped up from this point in, with Salvador clearly in some peril. Whilst Cayo begins to include him in the celebrations, it is with a sense of menace – not least in a scene where the menfolk of the village gather in a room and use scissors to remove each other’s ties. As the men methodically cut through each other’s neckwear, the scene grows increasingly dangerous for Salvador: he’s not wearing a tie. A cleverly constructed moment of terror flashes across his face as he realises his turn has come – and at the hands of Cayo.
As the plot unwinds, it becomes more obvious that tragedy will ensue, although the way events unravel might prove surprising. There’s also a deliberate ambiguity regarding the timing of events and whether the sins committed in the denouement were witnessed by God or whether they will be forgotten.
Director Llosa has created an intriguing film which poses more questions than it answers. The central performances are uniformly excellent and the scenes are framed sumptuously – particularly as the mask-clad villagers drink and dance. But the heart of the film relies on a believable relationship forming between Salvador and Madeinusa – sadly, that relationship is not quite believable enough. Although given the movie’s sting in the tail, maybe it is?
South American cinema has rightly been lauded in recent years, with films from Argentina, Brazil and Mexico earning richly deserved praise. The Milk Of Sorrow and Madeinusa offer a chance for audiences to explore the continent further, offering new insights into Peruvian culture and history, as well as the chance to see the development of blossoming director Claudia Llosa and ingénue Magaly Solier. Although occasionally clumsy, the impression given is that Llosa may be capable of polishing these rough edges off and creating a cinematic diamond. RW
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