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Film: Plan B
Release date: 13th September 2010
Certificate: 15
Running time: 103 mins
Director: Marco Berger
Starring: Manuel Vignau, Lucas Ferraro, Mercedes Quinteros, Damián Canduci, Ana Lucia Antony
Genre: Comedy/Drama/Romance
Studio: Network
Format: DVD
Country: Argentina
Exploring similar themes to Y Tu Mamá También and the more recent Undertow in portraying less than platonic impulses lurking behind bonds formed in seemingly heterosexual relationships, Plan B is the debut film from Argentinean director Marco Berger. Another movie that reveals the machismo of Latin America as being not quite as clear cut as you might think.
The story is set in modern day Buenos Aires, where twenty-something Bruno has just been dumped by his girlfriend Laura. Although she continues to sleep with him behind the back of her new boyfriend Pablo, she makes it clear that there can be no future between her and Bruno.
Undeterred, Bruno determines to win her back, proceeding to befriend the unwitting Pablo with the intention of undermining the newfound couple’s relationship. While it is not exactly clear what his initial plan entails, rumours of Pablo’s alleged bisexual past lead to the possibility of a plan B arising in Bruno’s mind, one in which he will covertly seduce his new rival.
Soon, however, the two men begin to develop a genuine friendship, but their bond becomes complicated not only by Bruno’s machinations, but also by a growing affection that runs deeper than either man realises.
After a confused Pablo breaks up with Laura, Bruno finds he’s only partly got what he truly wants...
It says something about the no man’s land Berger’s picture occupies, in terms of genre, that Plan B is being marketed somewhat misleadingly as a comedy. Despite the light farce suggested by the film’s plot, it’s actually short on outright laughs. It can only really be considered a comedy in the classical sense of moving from confusion to a happy resolution (reflected in its almost Shakespearean plot), and in the irony of our being in on the fact that these seemingly heterosexual men are developing feelings for each other long before they realise it themselves.
Instead, it features characteristics more often associated with art house cinema - from its languorous pace through to its focus on character and inner emotion. But just as it’s probably too unconventional to appeal to a mainstream audience, it also lacks the edge usually required by the art house set. Frankly, it contains more phallic imagery than any film needs, and some of its symbolism can be similarly obvious (Bruno and Pablo initially bond over a shared love for a Lost-style TV programme called Blind – presumably representing the blindness of love, and the blindness of the men to their true natures).
On the whole, though, it can’t be accused of pretension, only of being slightly dull in places. The main focus is realism, and the director’s dedication to it, for better or worse, is such that Plan B often feels like watching a relationship develop in real-time. It is stretched at least 15 minutes too long, dragging considerably throughout the midway point, and it’s not helped by being shot through a digital camera that gives Buenos Aires a washed out, drab look that resembling a student film.
Saving the picture from tedium are the soulful performances of its two leads, Manuel Vignau as Bruno and Lucas Ferraro as Pablo. At first, they’re not especially likeable or interesting – Bruno appears boorish and arrogant, Pablo somewhat vapid – but Berger gently coaxes out layers of personality in a process that mirrors the experience of the two men as they get to know one another. Their burgeoning relationship is quite a chaste and sweet one, and the film’s depiction of first love (being a gay relationship it falls under this category for the two men) is one that everyone can relate to in all its awkwardness and tentativeness. It’s this aspect that backs up Berger’s assertion that this is not a ‘gay’ love story, but simply a love story, one transcending sexual orientation.
That story is played out almost entirely in either Bruno’s or Pablo’s apartment. At first, you could take the strangely insular world of the film, interspersed with shots of the surrounding tall buildings of Buenos Aires, as representing the characters hemmed in by a South American society yet to come to terms with modern sexual mores. However, Argentina is one of the most liberal countries in Latin America, recently legalising gay marriage (including full adoption rights), and a country where same-sex sexual activity has been legal since 1887. In light of this, its insularity appears more to reflect the self-enclosed world that seems to exist between two people at the start of a relationship. The way that world is brought to life is probably the film’s greatest achievement.
The characters’ casual acceptance of homosexuality is the most interesting aspect of Plan B, accounting also for a great deal of the strength and the weakness of the movie. While refreshing to see a film dealing with gay relationships unhampered by histrionics, or a sense of its own self-importance, it also means there’s little in the way of tension or external conflict. The success of the picture ultimately depends on how much you have emotionally invested in the two men overcoming their insecurities and eventually getting it on.
At times, the film does become as confused and as muddled as its central conceit. It is difficult to gauge just what Bruno initially plans on or hopes to achieve. Laura clearly doesn’t attach much importance to fidelity, nor does she presumably have a problem with having a bisexual boyfriend. Even when Bruno learns that Pablo never had a bisexual past (it was just something Pablo said because he was curious about the idea), he continues with his ‘plan B’. Laura herself cuts a pretty marginalised figure throughout, and though she’s not the most sympathetic of characters, we are left to reflect on her misfortune in falling for not one but two gay men in quick succession.
Perhaps the only genuine misstep is the scene where Bruno’s friend puts it to him that he might be sexually attracted to Pablo. Bruno rushes to the toilet and is then violently sick. They’ve kissed twice (once on a drunken dare at a party, the second time when Bruno claims he needs to practice kissing a man for an upcoming audition), shared the same bed several times, spent an inordinate amount of time hanging out in just their underpants: it seems strange that the possibility of having sexual feelings for Pablo has never entered Bruno’s mind.
That said, for all its faults, Plan B is a hard film to dislike. Not being your typical Hollywood rom-com, it’s always up in the air whether the two leads will get their happy ending. It has a flawed charm in keeping with its two scruffy protagonists, and it would be a hard heart indeed that isn’t even slightly moved by the end of Berger’s movie.
In the evocative way it brings to life the beginnings of a relationship, and all the helpless, butterflies-in-the-stomach feelings that come with it, Plan B succeeds, but in terms of producing enthralling cinema, it’s less effective. Only partly successful then, but Berger’s film still contains enough moments of promise to suggest its director may go on to even better things. GJK
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Film: My Father Pablo Escobar
Release date: 12th July 2010
Certificate: Exempt
Running time: 90 mins
Director: Nicolas Entel
Starring: Sebastian Marroquin
Genre: Documentary
Studio: Brightspark
Format: DVD
Country: Argentina/Colombia
“Juan Pablo Escobar has agreed to tell the story of his life with his father, Pablo Escobar, once described as the ‘World’s Greatest Outlaw’. It is also the story of the sons of Pablo Escobar’s most prominent victims. It is the story of a country torn apart by violence and revenge, of death and reconciliation, and of a son’s attempt to atone for the sins of the father.”
Juan Pablo (renamed Sebastian Marroquin) was only 16 years old when his father was killed. As the documentary explains, at the time of his death, Pablo Escobar was a fugitive fighting three wars within Colombia: one with the state, one with a rival drug cartel, and one with a rogue vigilante organisation employing guerrilla tactics as bloody as his own killing methods. Pablo Escobar was no ordinary criminal. At the height of his power, his Medellin drug cartel controlled a rumoured 80% of the world’s cocaine trade. In 1989, Forbes Magazine listed Escobar as the world’s seventh richest man, worth an estimated 25 billion dollars. Pablo Escobar thought nothing of assassinating anyone who crossed his path and he is blamed for destroying Avianca flight 203 in order to assassinate one politician.
Escobar’s son Sebastian was forced to flee Colombia after his father’s death and went into exile in Argentina. He attempted to build a new life for himself as a designer and architect, but he has been haunted by the final words he gave to a Colombian journalist who called him to inform him his father had been killed. In a rage, he swore to avenge his father’s death, and in doing so, his father’s violent legacy was passed onto him. Sebastian’s taped conversation, complete with threats against those who had killed his father, was made public and the stigma has never left Sebastian, but he is not like his father, and is determined to make amends.
My Father, Pablo Escobar follows Sebastian as he attempts to contact the victims of his father’s crimes. Sebastian hopes that by clarifying himself and apologising on behalf of his family, not only will his father’s victims find some peace, but also that the gesture can show that the cycle of violence can be broken, and that Colombia as a whole can choose a different path. But will the victims of Pablo Escobar’s violent assassinations accept his son Sebastian’s attempts at reconciliation, or is the anger and hurt too great a hurdle to overcome?
The documentary uses a variety of methods to drive the narrative, but mainly consists of interviews with Sebastian Marroquin, his mother Maria Isabel Santos Caballero, and the sons of Escobar’s most prominent political victims; Colombian minister for Justice Rodrigo Lara Bonilla and presidential candidate Luis Carlos Galan. These interviews are shot over some time, and they are cleverly interwoven with library footage from Colombian news channels, plus taped recordings of Escobar from phone taps and conversations with journalists. Using these methods, director Nicolas Entel is able to build a picture of the man behind the myth, as well as showing the viewer the very real impact of Escobar’s actions.
As well as the seemingly unfettered access to the grown up Sebastian, we are also shown an Escobar family home movie shot when Sebastian was still a boy. In it, we glimpse the other world in which the then Juan Pablo inhabited. We see all the trappings and unbelievable riches; the home movie itself is like no other containing its own score, a voice over, and an introduction shot from a helicopter in the style of the opening sequence of ‘80s TV soap opera Dallas.
Sebastian talks frankly about his father during intimate moments; we watch as he looks back, either at the home movie or later in the film where Sebastian listens to a recording of his father singing along to opera. In these moments, the documentary never allows the viewer to forget that Sebastian is also a victim. To him Pablo Escobar was not a drug-dealing murderer. The father he knew was a rich man who bought him everything a child could ever want - a father who cheated at monopoly, a father who despite all his flaws still loved his family and wanted to be loved by them in return.
There are many outstanding moments in the documentary but watching the sons of Galan and Lara Bonilla discussing their dead father’s legacy, or deciding whether to accept Sebastian’s apology on behalf of his family are completely immersive. When the victims sons agree to meet with Sebastian, there is no hiding the powerful emotions at play, and the camera lingers on the faces of these men who are clearly haunted by the past, and wrestling with their emotions. It would have been impossible to make this documentary without setting up or manipulating certain scenarios in order to get the footage required, but it is of great credit to everyone involved that these obvious manipulations in no way detract from what is an incredibly emotive piece of filmmaking.
Ultimately it is up to the viewer to decide whether or not the actions of Sebastian Marroquin could ever have the impact that he so clearly desires. But as a snapshot of the human side of drug trafficking and the misery heaped upon the families of the victims, from all sides of the equation, My Father, Pablo Escobar is a brilliant and hard-hitting documentary. SM
Film: The Motorcycle Diaries
Release date: 17th September 2007
Certificate: 15
Running time: 120 mins
Director: Walter Salles
Starring: Gael García Bernal, Rodrigo De la Serna, Mercedes Morán, Jean Pierre Noher, Lucas Oro
Genre: Adventure/Biography/Drama
Studio: Film Four
Format: DVD
Country: Argentina/USA/Chile/Peru/Brazil/UK/Germany/France
Director Walter Salles brings Marxist revolutionary Ernesto ‘Che’ (slang Argentinean word for ‘mate’) Guevara to the mainstream Western audience in this coming of age meets road movie, exploring the events that shaped the thinking of one of Latin America’s best loved icons.
The Motorcyle Diaries is based upon the memoirs of the aforementioned Ernesto Guevara (played by Gael García Bernal), a 23-year old medical student one semester short of graduation, along with best friend and biochemist Alberto Granado (charmingly portrayed by Rodrigo de la Serna), six years Guevara’s senior. Despite the age difference, they are united by their free spirits, and a predilection to the female of the species.
The mavericks’ attitudes are matched only by their ambitious itinerary, which will encompass five countries on a mammoth 8,000 kilometre journey in just four and a half months - a deadline set by Alberto, who intends to celebrate his thirtieth birthday (April 2nd) at their final destination, Venezuela. Their transport is a 1939 Norton 500 Motorcycle, lovingly named ‘La Poderosa’ (‘The Mighty One’) by Alberto, a name which gives personality to the inanimate - we weep with Alberto when she meets her inevitable demise…
Glazing over epic farewells (not one relative is present to say goodbye to Alberto), the film marauds on via the kamikaze driving of the already deteriorating ‘The Mighty One’, toward the dramatic landscapes of the Andes and beyond, shot to perfection by cinematographer Eric Gautier, who delivers stunning imagery throughout.
Initially harmless, and at times comedic encounters help acquaint the audience with its protagonists. Ernesto’s romantic nature is apparent as they visit his girlfriend to say goodbye, meanwhile Alberto’s unflattering appearance rarely deters him from pursuing the attentions of prospective young ladies. Whereas Alberto is happy to manipulate the truth if it helps acquire a bed for a night, Ernesto is quick to rein this in, preferring instead to negotiate food and shelter in exchange for their medical knowledge.
These moments soon give way to episodes that shock Ernesto’s previously idealistic image of the peoples of South America. In one such scene, a couple exiled for their communist beliefs are separated as they search for work with a mining company, run so unethically it riles Ernesto into an argument with the manager. It is in these instants that the unrelenting sorrow and social injustice of the poor help the film achieve exactly what it aspires to.
While Alberto remains a constant comic relief throughout (an exquisitely carried off set piece on a cruise ship is particularly memorable), Ernesto’s thoughts are shaped by the troubles of the impoverished and their daily plights. His character arcs from asthmatic, happy-go-lucky father’s son to egalitarian - the weight of the world on his shoulders acting as a stimulant rather than a hindrance. By the time Ernesto and Alberto reach Peru, where they embark on a three-week work placement at a leper colony, Ernesto’s compassion is flourishing, manifesting itself in the form of a very poignant birthday speech, further accentuated in a reckless yet endearing final act.
Furthering the audience’s identification with our hero, we are made to recall the torment of the people encountered over the course of the film through a series of black-and-white images, bringing an almost historical slant to the final reel.
A well executed and thought provoking adventure, which sheds light not just on the tribulations of Latin America during this time, but the effects on ‘Che’ and the formation of a legend. MC
Film: Don’t Look Down
Release date: 26th July 2010
Certificate: 18
Running time: 84 mins
Director: Eliseo Subiela
Starring: Leandro Stivelman, Antonella Costa, Hugo Arana, Mónica Galán, Octavio Borro
Genre: Erotica/Drama/Romance
Studio: Axiom
Format: DVD
Country: Argentina/France
Produced back in 2008, Magic Realist filmmaker Eliseo Subiela’s Don’t Look Down has finally found its way into UK circulation after experiencing problems with the Argentina film censors with regards to the film’s sexual content. Nevertheless, the film went on to secure wins at the Latin-American Film Festival (Best Film) and the Montreal Film Festival (Best Latin-American Film) two years ago.
When his father dies, 19-year-old Eloy (Leandro Stivelman) begins to sleepwalk during the night, whilst by day he sees visions of his father carrying handfuls of nuts and bolts, as well as rows of the dead sitting in front of the wall of the local cemetery. Eloy seems to have some higher form of spirituality. For a brief time, he is convinced that his father has been trying to communicate with him through his school exercise book.
During one of his sleepwalking perambulates, Eloy falls through the open skylight of a neighbour’s house, landing on the bed of Elvira (Antonella Costa), who is staying with her grandmother whilst on vacation. Both Elvira and her grandmother share a somewhat spiritual outlook on life - the grandmother is a therapist whereas Elvira is a studier of Tantra. Eloy and Elvira strike up a relationship and soon enough the more mature Elvira begins teaching Eloy the infinite possibilities of Tantric sex…
Constructed around the teachings of the Karma Sutra, it comes as no surprise that Don’t Look Down comes across more as a sex manual rather than as a fully formed story of romance and coming of age. Rather than the lovers wanting to explore each other both as people and playmates, their chief concern is that Eloy achieves a predetermined number of thrusts before he succumbs to pleasure, leading to a shallow and somewhat tedious viewing experience. Most of the film consists of the two interlocked in various Sutra recommended positions, whilst an early scene sees Eloy deciding on what to call his penis - he settles for Marlon in the end, in honour of the late Mr. Brando.
When they’re not naked, Eloy spends a lot of time dressed as a sandwich as way of part-time employment, or delivering ornaments and headstones to the local graveyard on his bike. The latter is usually accompanied by a ponderous voice-over discussing sudo-spirituality and reinforcing Eloy’s unexplained ability to see the dead languishing in deckchairs outside the cemetery they’re buried in. Eloy is also a keen stilt-walker; a stroll with Elvira four meters off the ground provides one of the film’s weirder images. Some of the film’s more entertaining moments surface during these magic realist segments, however, said moments are few and far between - nor is their potential truly fulfilled.
Performances all round are satisfactory. Stivelman, while a fairly attractive young man, sports a confused, mouth slightly agape expression for most of the film’s meagre running time. Costa, on the other hand, displays far more screen presence and chemistry but is still unable to elevate the prolonged Tantric contrivances between the two good-looking leads beyond being merely adequate. Also, it’s difficult to determine whether Elvira genuinely cares for Eloy, save for his increasing technique in horizontal refreshment. For Elvira, it only seems to be about sex. Only Eloy’s ghostly father (Hugo Arana) gives the film any true sense of warmth and charm. It would’ve been nice if he appeared more often.
However, to the film’s credit, the frequent sexual intercourse on display is handled, for the most part, in a very tasteful manner, and certainly doesn’t exhibit the awkward and embarrassed execution seen in many a Hollywood outing. It may be worth pointing out that all of the sex in Don’t Look Down is simulated, which admittedly does garner some steamy results. However, the problem lies in the sheer quantity of the act that holds little development except for the decidedly half-baked concept that their love-making may possess hallucinogenic properties – realised through Eloy having visions of visiting places and cities all over the world – not to mention plenty of rodomontading pillow-talk about sexual prowess and the like.
A commendable aspect of the production is director Eliseo Subiela’s eye for framing and composition, with the majority of the film’s cinematography looking wonderful. Through a combination of photography and art direction, Don’t Look Down offers a timeless look showcasing a 21st century Buenos Aires that could easily be mistaken for the Buenos Aires of forty or fifty years ago. The film certainly has a very classic feel, sticking to the more historical parts of the city – a labyrinth of weathered apartment blocks and rooftops. Again, the sex scenes are tastefully choreographed and framed, avoiding cheesy temptations, such as having a foreground object blocking certain body parts.
Don’t Look Down suffers from a distinct lack of purpose: too steamy for mass consumption; too sweet and naïve for seasoned skin watchers. Amidst the lovely camerawork, there is plethora of missed opportunities resulting in a well crafted film devoid of any substance, as the rather ponderous script fails to gain momentum or any real sense of focus for that matter. The results are watchable but highly disposable, with some eye-candy thrown in for good measure. MP
Film: My Father Pablo Escobar
Release date: 12th July 2010
Certificate: Exempt
Running time: 90 mins
Director: Nicolas Entel
Starring: Sebastian Marroquin
Genre: Documentary
Studio: Brightspark
Format: DVD
Country: Argentina/Colombia
Nicolas Entel, more used to corporate productions and music videos for the likes of Wyclef Jean and KT Tunstall, as well as his first feature length documentary about a globe-trotting tango orchestra from Buenos Aires (Orquesta Tipica), had his work cut out for to his latest offering, My Father Pablo Escobar. Also known as Sins Of My Father, the young director documents the difficult journey of Sebastian Marroquin who seeks atonement for his father who was at one time the world’s Most Wanted man.
The film covers a three year period, starting in 2007, when Sebastian, having settled in Buenos Aires, is to afraid to return to his homeland, and will go no further than the Colombia/Ecuador border. By 2009, Sebastian returns to Bogota to meet and seek forgiveness from the sons of the politicians Escobar had assassinated in his lust for power.
Most of the documentary is comprised of footage from national news archives, as well as videos from the Escobar family’s private collection, recorded telephone calls and radio broadcasts. The film does not shy away from showing the atrocities for which Escobar is responsible, but Marroquin is also eager to portray his father as a family man and patriot. Regardless of Escobar’s attributes and deficiencies, it is an incredible account…
The grim opening footage where Escobar’s coffin is repeatedly opened and closed, to reveal his motionless, bloated face indicates the scepticism of a crowd who cannot believe he is dead. It is, after all, the corpse of a man who was once in control of 80% of the world’s cocaine, stupendously rich, and able to amend Colombia’s constitution at will. This is contrasted with a man who loved nothing more than to spoil his children, who would use a nature encyclopaedia as a catalogue to create his own zoo of exotic animals. The family’s home videos are truly something to behold; animals, airplanes, jet skis - every extravagance imaginable. However, Sebastian remembers his father had such a strong competitive streak that he would cheat his children at Monopoly.
Ruling the underworld was not enough for Escobar, and when he starting buying his way into politics, the problems started and then ended in civil war. Escobar was charitable; he built homes for 5000 people living in the municipal dump. He then used his popularity to garner support for Rogerigo Lara Bonilla and Luis Carlos Galan, founders of the New Liberal Party. Bonilla and Galan were displeased to be linked with a drug baron, regardless of his ‘Robin Hood’ reputation, and expelled him from the party. This rejection made the men targets for a wrathful Escobar, who instead bought his way into congress. As soon as Bonilla was made Minister of Justice, he ordered a raid of one of Escobar’s processing plants, recovering 13 tons of cocaine with a street value of $1.2 billion. In 1984, Escobar had Bonilla assassinated and escaped to Panama. What follows is the story of a father and son on the run, one from his deeds, the other from the future that was written for him.
One of the strengths of Entel’s film is that he records showing archive material to the sons of Bonilla and Galan, twenty years later the pain and disbelief is still pasted across their faces. The audacity and monomania of Escobar is apparent from the contradictory and manipulative speech he made when he turned himself in to the authorities on his own terms. The same goes for Sebastian’s initial email in February 2008, we see five suited and obviously powerful men around a laptop looking lost, but also moved at his words of peace and reconciliation.
Sebastian himself cuts a desperate figure; he has succeeded in forging a more moral path than his father, and is very different from the distraught teenager who declared revenge on his father’s murderer. He realises, “I’ve lost the right to get angry,” and admits “I cannot understand my own father’s character.”
It is a documentary about men, fathers and sons, and to some extent, machismo. Sebastian is paying for his father’s foolhardy behaviour, and there are very few women present in this documentary, apart from his mother. She seems a rather powerless figure, authority passes from father to son, and it was due to Sebastian’s quick thinking that the family escaped Colombia after his father broke out of prison. One is reminded of the arrogance of Mesrine, Richet’s film cleverly portrays its protagonist as someone who claims to be a political idealist, but is more interested in unfettered access to the finer things in life. Arguably this is the case with Escobar, but Entel does not go so far as to join the dots - he is, after all, dealing with a very loyal subject in Sebastian.
The film does end on a moral note, when Sebastian eventually returned to Colombia he discovered “everyone wants to be Pablo Escobar” - a glamorous lifestyle funded by cocaine is something he seeks to discourage by showing the human price.
The blood and body count of My Father Pablo Escobar sends out a powerful message: it shows the extent of terrorism in a developing country, where drugs dictate the political agenda and appear to the public as the only source of prosperity. This potentially explosive subject material is crafted into a cry for reconciliation and hope by a promising young documentary-maker. SR
Film: The Headless Woman
Release date: 12th July 2010
Certificate: 12
Running time: 89 mins
Director: Lucrecia Martel
Starring: Maria Onetto, Claudia Cantero, Inés Efron
Genre: Mystery/Drama
Studio: Drakes Avenue/New Wave
Format: DVD
Country: Argentina
The follow-up to Lucrecia Martel’s La Niña Cannes nominated La Nina Santa (The Holy Girl), sees the director tackling and exploring weighty issues such as guilt and emotional repression.
At the beginning of the film, Vero (María Onetto) is driving home from a family gathering and hits something with her car, bumping her head in the process. What follows is a study of Vero’s increasing anxiety as she begins to believe that she has killed someone, and a dazed and confused look at the inner workings of her strange and secretive family...
It is difficult to define exactly what is happening throughout most of the film, both in terms of what is happening in the story and in terms of the abstract, disjointed position that Martel’s camera chooses to place the viewer in many scenes of the film. Often we are not entirely sure what we are seeing, or where we are seeing it from. Sound is also used to this effect, with conversations being scarcely heard through thick windows, or taking place in the background of crowded and densely layered scenes. These techniques work to intriguing and often visually striking effect. Martel’s attention to detail is admirable, as is her use of depth of frame, meaning most of the film is aesthetically indulgent. As well as this, the distracted and unfocused mode of delivery serves as a window into the world of Vero, who is often slow to respond when asked a question, and seems to wander around in a dream-like state of apathy; her cheery half smile masking a vacant and world-weary look in her eyes.
However admirable Martel’s attempt to frame the world of the film through Vero’s perspective may be, it is in doing so that she encounters the film’s biggest problem. In creating a world so dreamlike and unfocused, she has also made a film which is fairly dull and unfulfilling. So little happens in the course of the film that we are left to ponder what, if anything, it was all about, and several aspects of the story of which more could have been made are subjugated in order that the camera may linger on several shots which, beautiful though they are, always seem to last a few seconds longer than they should.
Narrative ambiguity is always risky territory for filmmakers, as some viewers are always going to demand some kind of definite idea of what is going on, nevertheless an ambiguous ending can be rewarding if it comes at the end of a story that is gripping and layered, that provides material for viewers to discuss long after seeing the film, and demands to be seen again. This is clearly the effect that Martel is aiming for, but she has not left enough interesting material within the framework of the narrative to make any attempt to understand the sub-textual implications worthwhile. The film certainly does drag on, rarely has a film with such a short running time managed to seem so long and this is because we are moving from scene to scene waiting for something to happen, waiting for something to get our teeth into and ponder - something which never arrives.
It is in the nature of arthouse cinema to offer character studies rather than coherent, fast paced narratives, and this is perfectly fine in many cases because we see characters with such complex psychologies that delving into them and exposing what makes the character behave in the way they do is the most interesting aspect of the film. Vero, sadly, is no such character, and this is not a failing on the part of Onetto, who plays the role very well, but of Martel’s in deciding to make a film based on such a character. The whole point about Vero is that she is distracted, that she finds it difficult to engage with those around her, and that she has a lot of internal conflict that she does not allow to spill over into the surface. The fact that there is no penetration of these exterior characteristics, no supporting character who gets in side her head and exposes to the viewer what she is really feeling, leaves the viewer with very little to gain from watching the film, as it doesn’t really work either as a drama or as a character piece.
If Martel’s story had the strength of her artistic vision, she could have made a truly powerful, gripping drama. Instead what we are left with is a visually impressive but ultimately unfulfilling film, which leaves the viewer looking for answers, but not particularly willing to revisit the film in order to find them. PK
Film: Lion’s Den
Release date: 24th May 2010
Certificate: 15
Running time: 113 mins
Director: Pablo Trapero
Starring: Martina Gusman, Elli Medeiros, Rodrigo Santoro
Genre: Drama
Studio: Axiom
Format: DVD
Country: Argentina
Director Pablo Trapero is not one to shy away from controversy, and having tackled incest, immigration and corruption, his attention turned to the controversial subject of motherhood in prison.
The film opens with Julia, our leading lady, lying on her bed fully clothed - her pillow and hands covered in blood. She brushes the hair from her face, smearing the blood from her hands in the process. As she gets in the shower, we notice the side of her face and some of her back is cut up and badly hurt. She slowly washes the blood from herself and gets dressed. Her apartment is ransacked, the furniture has been toppled over, and there are two dead bodies – one being her partner.
An already pregnant Julia has no recollection of the events that led to these deaths, but given the damning evidence, she is soon incarcerated - forced to give birth to her child in a prison environment…
The Spanish jail system allows pregnant inmates to live together in a single block, separated from the other inmates. Once the baby is born, he/she can stay with their mum until the age of 4. The child is then taken away and put with the inmate’s family, or into state care.
Director Pablo Trapero holds nothing back in his portrayal of the characters and plot through his stark and often gritty directing, and the first scene is a perfect reflection of the dark realism which follows. It is difficult to watch a group of pregnant mothers sit in a circle practicing their breathing exercises, surrounded by squalor and mess, and there is no shortage of such scenes. It is even more difficult to watch these women raise their children in this environment - tiny little tots plodding around playing with saucepans and cups. We feel pity for these children who, for all intents and purposes, are imprisoned themselves. And this leads to a number of questions. Is it right for these children to be here? What is more important, the freedom of the outside world or for them to bond with their mothers? We rightly feel anger towards some of the inmates who have put their children in this situation - maybe some even became pregnant intentionally so they could be moved to a more comfortable wing - but, at the same time, seeing these inmates with their children adds a human element that is lost in a lot of other prison dramas. It forces the viewer to see the inmates as individuals; they are not just the crime they committed, but mothers and human beings.
The film also looks intensely at relationships. The primary focus is between Julia and her mother – who is intent in taking the child out of this undesirable environment, which ultimately leads to an exciting finale as Julia seeks to reconnect with her abducted child – but also the friendship/love affair that develops with one of the other inmates, Marta. The characters are written and performed to perfection, so we never feel as if the emotions on display are being faked. Julia changes and grows throughout the film as a result of these relationships, and we willingly go on the journey with her. It’s pretty intense, and there are some shocking scenes, but it never sensationalises and always engages.
Lion’s Den is a harrowing tale of love and deception that takes the viewer on a rollercoaster ride of thoughts and emotions. CC
