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AMORES
PERROS
6/10
(Love’s
A Bitch)
Mexico
2000
dir Alejandro G Inarritu
scr Guillermo A Jordan
cin Rodrigo Prieto
stars Emilio Echevarria, Gael Garcia Bernal, Vanessa Bauche, Goya Toledo
153 minutes
Amores
Perros has been hyped as ‘the Mexican Pulp Fiction,’ and the script
shows distinct Tarantino influences, with three noirish, violent, urban
stories crisscrossing back and forth in time. But Inarritu’s direction
is a far cry from Pulp’s stylish gloss, favouring instead a rough-edged,
hand-held, Soderbergh-ish approach. Soderbergh filmed Traffic
(partly in Mexico) shortly afterwards, of course, and both movies
have similar flaws: they’re entertaining and fast-moving, but are ultimately
no more than skilled compilations of familiar characters and situations
- conventional movies breaking little new ground as they sprawl beyond
2 ˝ hours. While neither ever drag or outstay their welcome, they’re both,
in retrospect, examples of length for length’s sake.
Perros’s
running time is likely to be trimmed by most countries’ censors, however,
as there are lengthy sequences featuring disturbingly realistic ‘professional’
dog-fights, and there are numerous horribly convincing shots of dogs (apparently)
severely wounded or even killed, tongues sickeningly protruding from slack
muzzles. Best In Show it ain’t, and the uncut movie will be tough
going for many, animal lovers or not. Indeed, this reviewer made a special
point of sitting in the cinema until the very end of the credits, and
was mightily relieved when the ‘no animal was harmed’ disclaimer appeared
– in English, oddly enough. Even so, the dog-fighting sequences were clearly
staged ‘as real,’ and it’s hard to see them getting by the UK classification
board that refuses to pass the likes of Monte Hellman’s Cockfighter
and Claire Denis’ S’En Fout La Mort.
Dogs
link the three principal tales that make up Amores Perros’ convoluted
plot - there’s the fighting rottweiler Cofi trained by cocky youth Octavio
(Bernal), who needs cash in order to elope with his violent brother’s
wife (Bauche). Then there’s the pack of mongrels kept by a tramp-like
oldster known as ‘El Chivu,’ (The Goat), a former guerrilla turned professional
hitman, desperate to make contact with his estranged daughter. Further
up the social scale is pedigree terrier Richie, spoiled lapdog of famous
model Valeria, who suffers unexpectedly dire consequences after the pooch
vanishes beneath the floorboards of her luxury apartment. The stories
flick back and forth, coming violently together when Valeria and Octavio’s
cars crash as El Chivu looks on. The hit-man rescues the injured Cofi
and nurses him back to health – which spells disaster for his own four-legged
friends…
Though
Inarritu switches between the stories nimbly enough, he can’t hide the
fact that they carry strikingly unequal weight. The ‘Richie’ strand doesn’t
really have that much to do with the two ‘Cofi’ elements, and it’s got
an altogether different tone, a Bunuelian peeling-back of celebrity society’s
glossy facades. It also, incidentally, strongly recalls the Twilight
Zone ‘Little Girl Lost’ episode that so influenced Poltergeist.
The film only really hits its stride when it sticks to the dog-fighting
material, especially when the charismatic Bernal (something of a Hispanic
Jared Leto) is holding the screen. The rapid-fire editing and well-chosen,
confident soundtrack keep things barrelling along, Inarritu succeeding
in bringing to life a vibrant underground milieu with convincing
– though occasionally stomach-churning - attention to blood-spattered
detail.
9th March,
2001
by Neil
Young
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