Iluminados por el Fuego 2005

Iluminados por el fuego is the other side of the Falklands war. The Argentinian side. And it is a film that brilliantly subverts trends in war films of the last 20 years.

In the Argentine perspective of this war we see no pretty girls waiting at home for those couples torn apart by war. In fact these women have probably left with another man already, a far cry from 2007’s Atonement. We see no heroics of the uniform, as the men are openly portrayed as lacking basic equipment such as boots, something missing from even the more honest films about the gulf wars. There is no dream of a better world after the fighting for these men, who openly try to contaminate their food and water with ‘hepatiti’, leaving no memory of Band of Brothers or The Pacific.

It has more in common with post-Vietnam cinema of the North American new wave and the barking of Full Metal Jacket’s Sgt. Hartman, but the punished soldiers lack the nihilism of their American counterparts.

The privates, acted with varying levels of competency, not only laugh together but cry together, trembling visibly in their foxholes clutching mementos of home. Their suffering is almost exclusively unenhanced, save by strange and ironic music. Jaunty music hall piano overplays their one scene of merriment, slaughtering a sheep so they can eat something other than hard bread and thin soup. And frightening, giddy strings overplay scenes in the infirmary with mixed effect in the otherwise quiet film.

The trembling handheld camera work in the scenes shot on the islands grounds all of them, reminding us constantly of the cold and hunger and fear. It also nicely does away with the panoramic shots that have risen to success in the genre recently, showing battle fields like gory carousels.

The film’s narrative bounces between 2001 and 1982, allowing us certainty that two of the men will survive, if only for one of them to commit suicide, still haunted by the battlefield. The authenticity of the shots in Buenos Aires do hamper the film somewhat, as instead of creating two mutually beneficial narratives we instead experience unpleasant jerks back to a whitewashed world.

The message of the film is undoubtedly one that is anti-war. The enemy is almost invisible save the science fiction-esque British bomber than passes overhead, reminding us how ill-equipped the Argentinians were, and a touch of stock footage of the iron lady, firing a cannon in her head scarf. The only sign of British patriotism is a single flag flying on a school in a more peaceful island in 2001, passed by one of the former soldiers.

Bauer, who also wrote the screenplay, hammers the message home that the enemy was not so much the British (who’re still seen as island thieves by a stray voice over towards the end) but those in power in Argentina. The officers’ sadism and incompetence in Iluminados makes Kubrick’s Hartman look like a primary school teacher, as those men who stole meat rather than starved are staked out, spread-eagled on the freezing ground or beaten for their crimes. It’s interesting to note though that it isn’t class but power that seems to be the enemy of the working, starving, fighting soldier, unlike typical British war films.

The men who struggle on under these tyrants are far better acted in scenes of conflict, but their friendship and loyalty and childlike conversation and action is nonetheless touching.

The films 21^st century conclusion also warms the cockles and forces the tears as the token war cemetery shot is contrasted with an unusual return to the battlefield scene. But in contrast with the opening scene of familiar marches in Buenos Aires towards the Casa Rosada, we are given little hope for a country mending its ways, perhaps another reason, besides the honesty, that the film was so controversial in its native country.

Iluminados por el Fuego, despite its technical and budget floors is a fine and worthy film for anyone interested in 20^th century conflict, politics or who simply enjoys a good story about soldiers. It is moving and it is honest and it is pleasingly unconventional.

Director- Tristán Bauer
Starring- Gastón Pauls , José Luis Alfonzo , Juan Palomino
Runtime- 100 minutes
Language- Spanish

Linha de Passe 2008

Walter Salles’ eyes are the increasingly those we see Brazil through over here. Central Station (Central do Brasil) and City of God (Cidade de Deus) have cast an awkward shadow over Brazilian cinema as new directors must try to shuffle out from under it or cope with selling their films internationally on their acclaim. His 2008 offering is in the same mould, doing for São Paolo what City of God did for Rio- making it a far less tasty tourist offering, showing the poverty and the crime it seems the city’s inhabitants must embrace to survive.

However Salles’ demonstrations of the horrors of Latin American poverty are starting to turn critics away. In Diarios de Motocicleta (Salles’s 2004 offering) Gael Garcia Bernal’s Christ-like, young Che Guevara’s speech on a united America (it is actually two and a bit continents, ya know) left plenty cold. Here the simplistic divides of the four brothers at the heart of Linha de Passe has rung as hollow, for many. It seems petty crime, football or evangelism are the only options since Che fell flat. It is a little sad too to see that these extracurricular activities do serve as a replacement for character development in the three oldest brothers, especially when compared to their pregnant mother, beautifully portrayed by the only professional actor of the bunch, Sandra Corveloni and the frankly cute as a button youngest, Reginaldo (played by Kaique Jesus Santos).

Salles uses his familiar casting techniques, as well as themes, in Linha de Passe (roughly translated as Pass Line which I assume is something to do with football but frankly haven’t a sodding clue). Four unknowns play the brothers, while Corveloni is a veteran of only a handful of short films. His previous films, stars aside, have tended to utilise whoever lived where they were filming. There’s no let down performance among them but there is equally no question that Corveloni deserved her best actress award at Cannes, and hopefully will be seen again very soon.

Her character as soon to be mother of five, each to a different father, anchors the actions of the boys who really drive what narrative there is. The film is structured in monthly chapters of sorts, as each boy struggles to support themselves, their mother (who works as a maid to the wealthy) and in one case their own children. Dario’s struggle from layabout to professional football tops and tails the film though it is sadly the most predictable of the tales, complete with redemptive goals after heart-breaking moments on the bench, a father-like coach and a splendidly silly drug sequence with an almost Reefer Madness style bit of peer pressure when all seems lost.

By contrast the story of preacher and gas station attendant Dinho, the son who we are teasingly told is already reformed, and his sudden fall from grace and ritualised redemption is incredibly engaging, with some interesting reflections on faith and sly digs at the Pentecostalism and Evangelism that have swept into Brazil over the last 20 years, as the Catholic population has drastically dropped. His story also allows for some beautiful photography outside of São Paolo, although characteristically the urban photography is both grim and lovely, giving you the slight need to wash the dust and smog from your face after the film.

Also in a familiar vein for those loyal to Salles is Gustavo Santaolalla’s wonderful if typical soundtrack. His sound may be distinctive but the grime of the poor end of a Latin American city or the wide expanses of the Andes suit his material like tea and toast, like Ximxim and farofa, like Mexican agrarianists and moustaches.

And frankly the soundtrack, the photography, the performances and exceptional pacing do save this film from any sort of evangelism of its own. It’s not City of God. But then again, only City of God was City of God, and this shouldn’t be swept under the rug because of it.

Further Watching

City of God (Cidade de Deus) 2002

In case all those praises I was singing went over your head check out this beautiful tale of young men, big guns and a very distressed chicken in the Favelas. Sadly missed out on a BAFTA the same year as Y tu Mama También. The US Academy didn’t notice either of them.

Bus 174 (Ônibus 174) 2002

Someone steals a bus here too, though they’re not nearly as cute as Reginaldo. An exceptional documentary about the poor of Rio and a hostage situation caught live on television. Another one overlooked by the Academy. Where were they in 2002?

The Motorcycle Diaries (Diarios de Motocicleta) 2004

Gustavo Santaolalla’s glorious soundtrack should be enough!

The Maid (La Nana) 2009

In Chile between 6 and 12% of households have ‘help’. Someone who lives with the family, cleaning their sheets and their clothes, cooking for them, helping to raise their children but politely detached. Never quite part of the family- an intimate employee. Chilean protégé director, Sebastián Silva grew up in such a household. Half raised by two squabbling maids.

Silva's familiarity with the idea of a stranger in the family helped in his creation of the excruciating opening scene. A wealthy family of six hush each other over a table of dirty plates and small packages and birthday cake while a solemn, uniformed woman stares into a plate of leftovers in a colourless kitchen. The fuss is for the uniformed woman, Raquel's birthday. She will accept her gifts, blow out the candles, and then clear their plates. The clumsy handheld photography and indistinguishable babble of voices makes the whole scene more awkward, and Raquel more alien to the family.

The alienation of Raquel is a blatant but enjoyable social comment on the borderline subjugation of the live-in cleaner, as we see her deal with the sort of stains the teenage son leaves on his bed clothes and uncomfortably averting her eyes to the naked father. Such uncomfortable sexualised aspects are made worse when we learn Raquel has given so much of her life to being ‘part of the family’ she is still a virgin. Her sparse room is littered with sad, tired teddy bears, and her awkward, unfashionable clothing on her day off add to the impression of her detachment from the family and from the world. Catalina Saavedra is flawless in her portrayal of awkward, saving the film from becoming another ‘seditious servant’ movie as the nice man from the New York Times put it or the Latin American Hand that Rocks the Cradle.

Critics have righty latched on to her disquieting lead. Saavedra is a relative newcomer to the big screen, and definitely new to international acclaim at the ripe old age of 43 but she cuts an exceptional unconventional lead. Her scowling, challenging servant guides the camera and, despite her savage action towards those she sees as challenging her closeness to the family who employ her, maintains our sympathy towards her.

When her character’s mysterious headaches prompt the family’s employment of extra help that drive the plot, they also prompt Raquel’s transformation. Raquel locks them out the house, cleans the shower with undiluted bleach each time they shower, and generally fights to keep them from anything like the comfort she has in the family home, like the true controlling female villain she acts for the first hour of the film. Her first victim is the young and quiet Peruvian, Mercedes who at first seems a showcase for Chilean racism against its Andean neighbours. The girl who is already relegated to the lowest class of jobs must endure Raquel’s disdain and cleaning all she touches- it could be seen as another show of the xenophobia that’s on the rise in Chile as Peruvian immigration has increased.

But it goes further. Raquel uses the same treatment on every new employee, including on a burly older woman the family’s matriarch (or grandma as they more affectionately know her) sends in to quash the ‘maid fights’, who mounts the roof and wrestles with Raquel to almost surreal comic effect. Even the new kitten must face Raquel’s wrath for interfering with ‘her family’.

The humanising affect of the third challenger to Raquel’s position, Lucy and her cries of ‘what have they done to you’ transform the films conclusion, showing Raquel as a product of the family and her work. Suddenly we’re shown a Raquel laughing at soap operas in bed talking through the corridor to a former nemesis, and even embarking on a romantic fling. We even hear from her mother, a blood relative that’s unexpected, even unimaginable.

Raquel’s transformation against the backdrop of well-meaning and religious if imperfect employers and the struggle to find a place among them makes for fascinating viewing, the documentary-style camera, convincing performances and scarce use of music making for an immersive experience. The Maid picked up Spanish language awards left, right and centre but was sadly overlooked in the English language awards, save a Golden Globe nomination. Please don’t make the same mistake.

Director- Sebastián Silva
Starring- Catalina Saavedra, Mariana Loyola, Claudia Celedón
Runtime- 95 minutes
Language- Spanish

Further Watching

Maids (Domésticas) 2001

Episodic tales of five women in domestic service in Brazil, and their opportunities missed and dreams lost. By the good man who brought us the nominated for everything, winner of nothing masterpiece City of God.

Old Cats (Gatos Viejos) 2010

We’re still waiting for this one on our side of the Atlantic but Silva’s latest reunites much of La Nana’s cast and has been getting some very tasty reviews.

Further Reading

http://www.uab.es/servlet/Satellite?cid=1096481466574&pagename=UABDivulga%2FPage%2FTemplatePageDetallArticleInvestigar&param1=1182926877988

Interesting article about education and Peruvian immigrants in Chile.