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. 

FILM REVIEW: FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS

A scene from Friends with Benefits.

Marital parachute

By Don Simpson

As if revenge for losing the Swan Queen character to Natalie Portman's Nina in Black Swan, Mila Kunis one-ups Portman's role as Emma in No Strings Attached with Friends with Benefits. At least that is the word around Tinseltown (in Austin). Though I like Portman, I have avoided No Strings Attached with her portrayal as Jamie in like a STD because I do not want to watch her makin' whoopee with co-star Ashton Kutcher. (Maybe it is unbridled jealousy, but I do not find them to be a likely pair.) Kunis and co-star Justin Timberlake, however, seem like they would be a more likely (and likable pair), and I guess they are.

Jamie (Kunis), a Manhattan headhunter, has placed Dylan (Timberlake) in a high-profile position as Art Director forGQ magazine. While cozily watching Jamie's favorite movie -- a film-within-a-film rom-com with a satirically amped-up cheese factor -- like BFFs, the emotionally psychotic Jamie and the emotionally vacant Dylan decide that sex can be just like...um...tennis? Tennis is a recreational sport enjoyed among friends who cordially shake hands at the end of the match and then go their separate ways; surely sex among two impeccably beautiful Hollywood stars can be enjoyed as a recreational sport as well. Jamie and Dylan give it a go and the experiment goes well at first. The pair are able to communicate their sexual likes and dislikes in bed and fulfill each other's desires to the rhythm of Dylan's repeated sneezes. (Note: Dylan sneezes whenever he ejaculates.)

Eventually, though, all of their repressed emotional baggage bubbles to the surface, thus disproving their theory that friends who sneeze together can remain just tennis buddies. If Jamie and Dylan cannot pull off this experiment, where does that leave the rest of us horny Americans? Well, it looks like heterosexual marriage truly is our only road to eternal salvation. Thank God! And thank you, Jamie and Dylan, for taking one for the team so that no other God fearing Americans will need to go down the dastardly rabbit hole of emotionless sex.

Two films in one calendar year (three if you include November 2010's Love and Other Drugs with Jake Gyllenhaal and Anne Hathaway) about loveless fuck buddies must mean something about our modern society, or at least there will be plenty of bible-thumpers who will say so. Of course if the bible-thumpers would just sit down and watch Friends with Benefits, they would realize that Friends with Benefits redeems itself in God's eyes (well, at least a God who is not opposed to premarital sex) by the closing credits.

Despite the manic meta-ness of its first half, the second half of Friends with Benefits shamelessly relies on all of the very same rom-com genre tropes that the film had just hysterically satirized. As with Easy A, writer-director Will Gluck's previous film, the wink-wink-nudge-nudge Gen-X quotation marks of Friends with Benefits are exclaimed ad nauseum. Gluck's hyperactive propensity for pop culture references (flashmobs, iPads, T-mobile, Harry Potter, John Mayer, Third Eye Blind, Criss Cross, etc.) would be much funnier if he could utilize them with more restraint. Instead he leaves the valve wide open, thus drowning the audience in what could have been some really funny stuff. Besides, by eventually embracing all the clichés that Friends with Benefits so manically attempts to deconstruct, Gluck is essentially saying that all of the jokes from the first half of the film were for naught.

Friends with Benefits also seems intent on making excuses for Jamie and Dylan's lack of sexual morality. One look at Jamie's boozy and slutty single mother (Patricia Clarkson) and we know that Jamie inherited her sexual prowess (yet no physical traits) from this woman; and in a continuance of the cinematic device of characters being defined by the films they watch, Jamie's mother watches Paul Mazursky's Bob and Carol and Ted and Alice. The reckless promiscuity of Jamie's mother has also forever blurred Jamie's ethnic identity -- she has no idea who her father is, therefore Jamie does not know her own ethnic background.

Dylan's father (Richard Jenkins) is mentally wasting away due to Alzheimer’s -- though he does enjoy some suddenly lucid flourishes during which he is able to deliver crucial motivational monologues to Dylan -- and Dylan feels guilty for leaving his father in the sole care of his sister (Jenna Elfman) in Los Angeles. Dylan's estranged mother divorced his father ten years ago, abandoning their family in a time of need, resulting in abandonment and commitment issues for Dylan.

Dylan is also riddled by fears of being presumed gay. His ex-girlfriend (Emma Stone) thinks he likes a finger up his ass during sex; Dylan feels "emasculated" when Jamie is on top of him in bed; and, a sure-fire sign of gayness (at least according to Friends with Benefits), Dylan likes Harry Potter. Dylan's fears are then magnified tenfold when his gay co-worker (Woody Harrelson) suggests that they go "trolling for cock" together. The only good that could possibly come out of all of the gay jokes is if you turn this into a drinking game, slurping one down every time the word "gay" is used in relation to Dylan's sexuality.

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.

LALIFF 2011: CUBAN FILMS

A scene from Chico & Rita.

Cubatopia

By Ed Rampell

The 15^th annual Los Angeles Latino International Film Festival is taking place in Hollywood through July 25, and the Hispanic-oriented film fete is screening a number of Cuban features and documentaries this year. They include: The nonfiction works Los 100 Sones Cubanos (100 Cuban Songs); the nonfiction, hip-hop themed Revolution about El Band Aldo, which, according to LALIFF, is censored in Cuba; the surfing doc, Havana Surf; the animated feature with music, Chico & Rita; and Boleto a Paraiso (Ticket to Paradise).

Director/co-writer Gerardo Chijona’s unforgettable, riveting Ticket to Paradise helps to redefine so-called “socialist realism,” which, under the Stalinists, was often neither “socialist” nor “realist,” but frequently propagandistic in the crudest sense Instead of brawny proletarians and peasants riding shiny tractors in a workers’ paradise, viewers of the ironically named Ticket to Paradise will see images of: AIDS, prostitution, drug use, suicide, sexual abuse/ incest, crime, homosexuality, graphic nudity, sex acts, homelessness, dumpster diving, alienated youth, underground heavy metal concerts, Cuba’s counterculture, etc.

The feature is set during the 1990s’ so-called “Special Period,” after the collapse of the Soviet Union. Although Cuba lost its greatest economic supporters, Havana’s U.S.S.R. and Comecon East Bloc allies, the socialist David still had to contend with that Yanqui Goliath only 90 miles away. 

A Spanish-Cuban co-production made with the participation of the official ICAIC (Instituto Cubano del Arte y la Industria Cinematográficos), Ticket to Paradise is far more hard hitting than any Hollywood, theatrically released feature dealing with AIDS, teen sexuality, etc., I can think of, including 2003’s powerful Thirteen, starring Holly Hunter as a beleaguered mom of a teen gone wild. 

If there is a propagandistic element to the frank Ticket to Paradise it could be in the depiction of these excellent medical facilities, with their motivated, benevolent doctors and nurses, which reminded me of the New Deal camp the Joad family visited in the 1940 John Ford classic, The Grapes of Wrath. Even during the severe deprivations during the depths of the Special Period revolutionary Cubans somehow provided free healthcare for the least of those amongst them -- something bourgeois America has yet to do.

The ensemble cast delivers powerhouse performances, notably Miriel Cejas as Eunice, the runaway teen sexually molested by her father, and her longhaired boyfriend Alejandro (Hector Medina). Chijona deftly directs them and has created a searing cinematic work reminiscent and in the best tradition of the self critical trend of Cuban cinema, as exemplified by Tomas Gutierrez Alea’s 1968 classic, Memories of Underdevelopment. Like his motion picture predecessor, Chijona has made a most memorable movie, one that further develops, refines and redefines socialist realism.

Hopefully, the senseless 50-year-old blockade and embargoof Cuba will end soon so, among many other reasons, American moviegoers can have the right to buy tickets to see more great films, like Ticket to Paradise.