For the
sake of not having to write the same intro a million
different ways throughout the rest of time, just know that
this column avoids the overly long and sometimes dull
process of full film reviews and instead opts to break
things down based on what I thought going in, what happened
while I was there and what I learned at the end of it all.
Thanks for reading!
The
Breakdown - Carancho
The Impression:
Argentinean noir. That’s all I need to hear. Argentina makes
gritty crime pictures better than just about anyone and
Carancho looks to be about gritty as they come.
The Reality:
When the film shudders to a stop the audience of press types
that I was seated with, usually to start chatting or quickly
leave to avoid communication with other living people, were
silenced, unable to move out of the violent malaise that had
just been thrust upon them. Pablo Trapero’s Carancho
(the Spanish word for "vulture") plays with the idea that
Buenos Aires has more car accident-related deaths than any
other country and because of that field of compensation
lawyers is booming. Enter a violent, scheming lawyer
(Ricardo Darin) and a nurse in which he falls in love
(Martina Gusman), a syndicate of even eviler folks and a
scheme that goes horribly, terribly wrong and you’ve got one
of the best films out this year. Trapero makes us fear cars
in this film. His camera stretches the screen showing us the
open road and at all times you wonder when another crash
will occur. It’s a brutal movie with a desperate drug-addled
relationship at its core, and Trapero never lets us forget
that violence is a real, grotesque possibility within the
film. The sort of film you close your eyes during because
the tension is so taut you can barely stand it.
The Lesson:
Argentineans really know how to knock a fellow around.
- Noah Sanders
-
Unless
otherwise expressly stated, all text in this blog and any
related pages, including the blog's archives, is licensed by
John Laird under a
Creative Commons License.
