LALIFF 2011: ESCRIBEME POSTALES A COPACABANA

A scene from Escribeme Postales A Copacabana.

Taking flight

By Ed Rampell

The bond of true love is the theme of much of Escribeme Postales A Copacabana (Write Me – Postcards to Copacabana), a Bolivian-German co-production helmed by Thomas Kronthaler and scripted by Stefanie Kremser.

Shot at and set near Lake Titicaca in Bolivia, the lovely, lushly visual Escribeme Postales A Copacabana has a charming cross-cultural, magical realist sensibility. The backdrop is a long ago love affair between a Bavarian man and Bolivian woman who wed and share life together in South America.

Now a grandmother, Elena (Agar Antequera) remembers her late German husband (no, not a Nazi on the lam) and frets over fatherless granddaughter Alfonsina (Julia Hernandez) as she comes of age and begins to search for true love. The beauty of Alfonsina’s widowed, flight attendant mother Rosa (played by the preternaturally sexy Cochabambina actress, Carla Ortiz) complicates her love life, as it attracts men who may not have honorable intentions, as she seeks a mate following the death of her pilot husband.   

This is very much a chick flick the males of the species can enjoy, too – especially its sumptuous cinematography amidst Bolivian vistas and its movie magical realism. The meaning of the title, which I won’t reveal here, is amusing, as a small town girl ponders a wide world beyond Bolivia.

LALIFF 2011: LOS 100 SONES CUBANOS

 Roberto Garcia in Los 100 Sonos Cubanos.

Sound of ages

By Ed Rampell

The documentary, Los 100 Sones Cubanos, is one of those rare works of art that simply makes you feel glad to be alive, if for no reason other than to be able to behold experiences like watching it. Los 100 Sones Cubanos is about a “beloved genre” of distinctly, endemically Cuban music, with origins stretching back to the Bantus in Africa, Spaniards in Andalusia, and the Canary Islands -- and can these songbirds warble like canaries. Musicians use instruments ranging from bungas (tree trunks covered with deerskin) to bamboo sticks to organs “tropicalized” by Cuban maestros from the Sierra Maestra Mountains and beyond.

In Los 100 Sones Cubanos writers-directors Edesio Alejandro and Ruben Consuegra are more successful as the Los 100 Sones Cubanos form of musical expression, rather than a musician per se, serves as the protagonist, moving the storyline along, as the filmmakers travel around Cuba filming a variety bands and singers who specialize in this music. Along the way we encounter astute, highly educated Cuban pop culture-ologists who tell us about the music, claiming that mambo, cha-cha and more are derived from Los 100 Sones Cubanos. 

Man (and woman!) in the street interviews provide some comic relief, even as they reveal the soul of an animated, attuned, aware people. Among the musicians we meet are Benny Villay, whose duds are a cross between Zoot suit and cowboy couture, and who croons (among other things) songs made famous by Benny More (whom a Cuban biopic, El Benny, was made in 2006). But my favorite crooner is 92-year-old Don Eduardo, who actually puts maracas in the back of his shoes in order to enhance the beat. 

Los 100 Sones Cubanos serves to remind us about the major impact on and contribution to world music Cuban sounds have made. 

LALIFF 2011: CHICO & RITA

A scene from Chico Y Rita.

True-ba-loney

By Ed Rampell 

Chico & Rita is another Cuban-music themed film, although it is actually an animated feature, not a doc, co-directed/co-written by Spanish filmmaker Fernando Trueba (director of 1992’s Belle Epoque starring Penelope Cruz).

Chico & Rita's animation is stellar, vividly bringing to life the Havana, Manhattan, Paris and Las Vegas of the 1940s/1950s. The music, too, makes this film worth seeing. However, the script leaves much to be desired. The Havana of bygone days looks glamorous, especially in comparison to today’s Cuban capital, which looks drab and shabby. Well, half a century of embargo may or may not do that to you, but the film's Havana of yesterday is largely devoid of that grinding poverty that inspired, oh you know, that little thing we call “revolution.” It wasn’t all mambo and showgirls under Cuban dictator and U.S. puppet Fulgencio Batista, don’tchaknow?

The love story between a pianist and singer is also remarkably stupid and senseless, full of celluloid stereotypes and completely absent of the sense of the ongoing bond a romantic relationship can generate between two people. The movie’s notion of love is, well, cartoonish; there’s a big difference between true, lasting love and obsession, don’tchaknow? 

But again, having said this, if you can overlook these points Chico & Rita is a fiesta for the eyes and ears, with some of the most compelling cartoon, animated erotic imagery since R. Crumb and Ralph Bakshi’s 1972 Fritz the Cat.  

LALIFF 2011: AMERICA

Rosalinda (Talia Rothenberg) America (Lymari Nadal) in America.

Enough abuse toward women

By Miranda Inganni

Sonia Fritz's America starts off proving that ugly things do indeed happen to beautiful people (in beautiful places) as our lead, America (Lymari Nadal), is abused by her husband, Correa (Yancy Arias) in Puerto Rico. Their fourteen-year-old daughter, Rosalinda (Talia Rothenberg) has run away to be with the love of her life and Correa blames America for allowing Rosalinda to repeat the same mistake that America made -- although Rosalinda is not pregnant.

As a result, America is forced to flee by herself to New York, where her stepfather, Irvin (LALIFF co-founder Edward James Olmos), has secured her a nanny job. While America has work and family, she bonds with other foreign nannies, who are only too happy to remind her that she has it easy as she's an American citizen. And it's true. Being from Puerto Rico, America can work and live legally in the United States while her gal pals often fear deportation.

America, unfortunately, cannot decide if it is a part-time thriller, comedic romance, ode to the love (and strife) families endure, or an homage to self-reinvention, opportunity and the US. Additionally, some of the characters, especially Correa, come across as caricatures. "See what you provoke me to do?" asks Correa to America after he beats her and "Do what you do best," when he wants her to mouth his member. Oh, she mouths off on it all right.

Despite the film's typical, thriller-esque music and poor direction, some of America's merit rests in its portrayal of strong, righteous women helping each other overcome terrible obstacles.

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.