LALIFF 2011: THE LIFE OF FISH

Andrés (Santiago Cabrera) in The Life of Fish.

Chile, mon amour

By Don Simpson

Andrés (Santiago Cabrera) is a 30-something Chilean-born travel writer who now finds himself based in Berlin. Back in Santiago after being away for 10 years, Andrés has returned to the city of his youth long enough to take care of some personal business, including dropping by a birthday party. While his friends are all married with children, they attack (if not partially out of jealousy) Andrés’ free-wheeling bachelorhood. A constant analogy that other characters make is that Andrés has lived his entire life like a tourist or day-tripper, never becoming too attached to his surroundings; but other than his career’s inherent allusion of freedom, Andrés does not seem too keen on living his life in airports, airplanes and hotels.

It soon becomes apparent that Andrés left something — specifically someone — behind when he moved away from Santiago 10 years ago. That certain someone is Bea (Blanca Lewin), who has since moved on with her life. But eventually, Andrés and Bea start talking about what might have been. The discussion progresses to a point that Bea appears to be considering running off to Berlin with Andrés, but to tell you anything more would be spoiling way too much.

Filmed in one location — a single family home in Santiago — The Life of Fish apparently adopts its title from the fish tanks that the camera often finds itself peering through. The characters are perceived to be caged specimens, trapped on the silver screen with the audience watching and listening to even their most intimate discussions. This is where writer-director Matías Bize truly succeeds, as the scenarios play out like home movies with extremely natural dialogue and actions. Bize also seems to specialize in frank discussions about sex — or at least “mature situations”, as the MPAA would deem them. Come to think of it, to call Bize the Chilean Joe Swanberg would probably not be too far of a stretch.

Unfortunately, there is just something about the production values of The Life of Fish — the cinematography and/or lighting, as well as the sound recording — that just screams Latin American soap opera to me. That said, this Chilean Oscar entry for Best Film in a Foreign Language is definitely the best Latin American soap opera I have ever watched. Admittedly, my enjoyment is at least partially related to the similarities (purely non-physical) between myself and Andrés.

NBFF 2011: THE LIFE OF FISH

Andrés (Santiago Cabrera) in The Life of Fish.

Moments across childhood rooms

By John Esther

When he was younger, Andrés (Santiago Cabrera) had close friends, a special girl named Bea (Blanca Lewin) and a general sense of communal security. But that was more than 10 years ago. Andrés is now 33, living abroad, working around the world as a travel writer and living a life of noncommittal relationships – most likely constantly communicating in a language not his first (or theirs).

In general, Andrés probably enjoys his modus vivendi, but when the expatriate returns home, what he left behind drowns him in a seductive/reductive whirlpool of remorse and regretful moments.

Set in near-real time, and shot in a singular Santiago, Chilé home, Andrés attends a birthday party he is already trying to leave as the film starts. Yet, there is no exit. Other people, at least the memories associated with them, are heaven and hell. As Andrés meets aged persons of times past, he realizes how different his life has become from those he knew when he was young. They have kids, he has travel plans. They live where they grew up whereas he currently resides in Berlin, Germany. Their narratives continue to grow together as his is a monologue signifying a lack of lifetime companionship. He has spread up and out; they have sprawled sideways.

While many moments pang the life and losses of Andrés' heart, nothing seems to hurt him more – even more than the death of a dear mutual friend – than letting Bea go. He wants her back and maybe she wants him, too, but life's grand amorous opportunities are precious few.

Suggesting we all live inside our own aquariums -- at varying, accreting external levels -- writer-director Matías Bize's exquisite film also manages to summon the interior emotions of his characters. The power of suggestion found in The Life of Fish sometimes reaches Bressonian heights, only Bize uses the faces of some good, and good looking, actors to convey that which is not being said, but is definitely present. And the moment flees.

A fine film in general, Chilé's recent Oscar submission for Best Foreign Language Film will particularly poke (pain?) those who have traveled the more unfamiliar roads, whereupon you left behind the spaces people still dear to you continue to dwell in and maintain within and without you.