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The Spaniards’ zest
for life is known and it is clearly reflected in their cinema, writes Ervell
E. Menezes
IF the recent Mumbai Academy of the Moving Image (MAMI) festival did one good thing (despite the poor organisation), it was giving the Mumbaite a chance of sampling world cinema other than Hollywood and that meant European and South American cinema too. Spain itself had a large share of 12 films and they proved to be a big draw. One of the biggest colonisers, thanks to their sea power, Spain is known for its zest for life and this is clearly reflected in its cinema. The subversive charm of the land of Cervantes, Bunuel, flamenco and Picasso (the only country where the film awards are named after a great painter Goya) is enduring as those who saw their films would vouch for. As for the passion and poetry of that rambunctious flamenco dance what better example than Jaimie Chavarri’s Camaron, which captures the life and times of flamenco legend Jose Monge Cruz who revolutionised the music and put that delightful dance on the world map. The two-hour film is an absolute delight as it brings out the zing and earthiness of the Spanish psyche. Joaquin Oristrell’s Inconscientes (Unconscious) is about Sigmund Freud’s revolutionary ideas about the unconscious through Alma, one of the progressive women of her time. Apart from highlighting her ideas on feminism and the role of women in the country, she gives free rein to her emotions while trying to surmise the reasoning for her actions. Alma’s affair with her brother-in-law, her polar opposite, explores the mysteries of human nature with fun and irreverence. And speaking of irreverence who better to exemplify it than Pedro Almadavor, the most influential director to come out of Spain since the fall of Franco. I saw his All About My Mother in New Delhi a few years ago and saw it again here. What an experience! It has gays, transvestites, whores, pregnant nuns—all thrown together and trying to fight their own demons. It is centred on Manuela who loses her 17-year-old son and goes back to Barcelona to trace his father, who is not aware that he had fathered a child. A crazy journey, physically, emotionally, psychologically and of course cinematically. Prudes may label it perverse but it is very much part of life and therefore realism and since gaydom has been brought out of the closet one can expect films like this and Transamerica. Cecilia Roth in the lead role is just brilliant ably supported by Marisa Paredes. Penelope Cruz is cast in a minor role. Antonio Mercero’s Fourth Floor is a heart-warming story of a group of cancer survivors, all young boys with shaven heads (thanks to chemotherapy) and missing limbs who play havoc (and basketball too) on wheelchairs. All they want is to put the Big C behind them. Their problems, their solutions and their very positive approach to life are sure to bring a lump to even the most hardened throats. The screenplay is by Albert Espinosa, himself a cancer survivor like ace cyclist Lance Armstrong. Tapas, by Juan Cruz and Jose Corbacho, covers the lives of a handful of everyday folks whose paths are linked with the bar, the shopping mall and the market place. It is a good mixture like the snack after which the film is named. Mariano and Conchi are oldies who fear illness. Raquel’s husband has left her and she’s looking for a replacement on the net or the supermarket attendants Caesar and Opo who have plans of their own. Drugs are common to old and young and Lolo discovers that there’s another world beyond his bar, thanks to his relationship with his new Chinese cook Mao. All these escapades bring out the comic-bitter-tender life of this working middle class neighbourhood. It is just 87 minutes long but delightful fare. Of the films this writer
has seen the only disappointment is In the City, which is quite
pedestrian in its depiction of life in Barcelona where folks come from
the countryside to make it big. But this group of losers not only lose
in life but lose the sympathy of the audience too. In that respect the
Polish film Warsaw is much better. But all said and done it was
a sumptuous dose of Spanish cinema. |
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