Cannes

El Festival de Cannes no sólo es uno de los festivales cinematográficos más antiguos (creo que el segundo, después de Venecia) sino que es, con mucho, el más prestigioso. No es de extrañarse: el cine nació a finales del sigo XIX en Francia, y volvió a nacer a mediados del siglo XX también en Francia. Al día de hoy, se siguen notando las influencias de los cahieristas en Cannes: no siempre se premia a lo mejor, pero rara vez se premia a algo poco arriesgado (sólo se me viene a la mente cuando Ken Loach ganó la Palma de Oro por su película más convencional, The wind that shakes the barley, en el 2006). El día de hoy, Terrence Malick acaba de ganar la Palma de Oro por The tree of life, continuando esta tendencia: Malick se ha caracterizado por hacer un cine muy personal (y muy a sus tiempos, 5 películas en más de treinta años) y por crearse un estilo propio, donde la narrativa está dominada por la contemplación. Aunque no tengo nada contra el cine de Malick (al contrario, pienso que The thin red line es una gran película) yo hubiera preferido ver recibir la Palma de Oro al finlandés Aki Kaurismäki, quien también se ha sabido hacer de un estilo muy personal y lo ha pulido muchísimo (alcanzando su mejor nivel, a mi parecer, en El hombre sin pasado, del 2002... que conste que no he visto La havre, su película que se presentó este año en Cannes). En fin... tendré que esperar a ver The tree of life, y juzgar con más bases. Mientras tanto, revisando la lista de ganadoras de la Palma de Oro, ahí les van mis favoritas, por orden de aparición:

Breve encuentro (Brief encounter), de David Lean (1939)

El salario del miedo (La salaire de la peur) de Henri-Georges Clouzot (1953)

La dolce vita, de Federico Fellini (1960)

Viridiana, de Luis Buñuel (1961)

M*A*S*H, de Robert Altman (1970)

La conversación (The conversation), de Francis Ford Coppola (1974)

Taxi Driver, de Martin Scorsese (1976)

Apocalipsis, ahora (Apocalypse now), de Francis Ford Coppola (1979)

El show debe continuar (All that jazz), de Bob Fosse (1980)

La sombra del guerrero (Kagemusha), de Akira Kurosawa (1980)

Paris, Texas, de Wim Wenders (1984)

Barton Fink, de Joel & Ethan Coen (1991)

El piano (The piano), de Jane Campion (1993)

Underground, de Emir Kusturica (1995)

El listón blanco (Das weisse Band), de Michael Haneke (2009)

Biutiful. Directed by Alejandro González Iñárritu, 2010.
The fourth film by "El Negro" González-Iñárritu is also his first one without screenwriter Guillermo Arriaga. In many interviews, González-Iñárritu has declared that he got sick of the multi-story fragmented narrative style. Well... you certainly can't say that just by watching Biutiful: a wannabe-Ikiru film, González-Iñárritu has to learn that sometimes less is more. Do we really need that storyline with the gay chinese couple? Why does Uxbal, the main character (Javier Bardem) has the gift of talking to dead people? This doesn't really add up anything to the story, or to the character. It is undeniable that González-Iñárritu has talent, there are many memorable images in this film. Unfortunately, they end up being diluted in a 2 1/2 hours film that never really finds its focus. At times, Biutiful is a great film. But most of the time it is busy with being a great movie, with being really profound and... bah. Let's hope González-Iñarritu's next movie doesn't have a script written by himself, or Guillermo Arriaga.


Another Year. Directed by Mike Leigh, 2010.
A perfect companion film to Leigh's previous film Happy-Go-Lucky, Another Year follows a married couple, Tom (Jim Broadbent) and Gerri (Ruth Sheen) during the course of... well, a year. Lovely structured (roughly four scenes, one for each season of the year) the movie is less concerned with the happy couple than it is with their friend, the troubled Mary (Leslie Manville). A sort of antipode to Sally Hawkin's Poppy (the main character in Happy-Go-Lucky), Manville's Mary is always either neurotic or depressed. This doesn't prevent the film from having its joys, most of them through really delicious dialogue (it is said that most of the dialogue in Leigh's films is improvised) and, ultimately, the big question is: what's about Tom and Gerri that they seem to have no problem at all? Is there a secret? Of course, nobody seems to have the answer, and that's just one of the high points in this greatly-enjoyable, not so easy to watch, film.



Hausu (aka House). Directed by Nobuhiko Ôbayashi, 1977.
Ha! Do you really think Zack Snyder and his Sucker Punch deserves to be regarded as innovative? This, ladies and gentlemen, is the stuff cult movies are made of. A fantasy-childish-horror movie, it tells the story of 7 girls that go on vacation to the house of the aunt of one of them... from here on, the movie just keeps getting more and more bizarre. The great problem I have with this film is that it seems too self-conscious, as if it wants to be a cult film so badly. Anyway, the film has its charms, it is fun, it has lots of blood and Kung Fu (yes, one of the characters is named Kung Fu) is really pretty. I can definitely see why this is highly regarded as a cult movie.

Sisters. Directed by Brian DePalma, 1973.
DePalma's first horror film tells the story of a young reporter who is investigating a murder in which a pretty girl may have killed a man... but, why does she has the same ugly scar as the pretty girl? Very Hitchcockian in its humor and its suspense, Sisters prove that, very early in his career, DePalma already was a master in split-screen (something that Tarantino, for example, still has to work in) and in enjoyable horror. The movie is no much more than a small homage to Hitchcok, but still, it is a very good one.

Black Swan

Directed by Darren Aronofsky.

Darren Aronofsky has never been recognized for being the most subtle of directors. In Requiem for a Dream, Aronofsky used every possible cinematic resource to scream out loud 'drugs are bad'. In The Wrestler, he exposed the miserability of Randy 'The Ram' in all its splendor. Now, in Black Swan, he takes his 'not-sublety' to new levels. Just to make myself clear: I don't think that's bad. If you are in the mood for a subtle film, go see a Tarkovsky one. If you are in mood for a draaaaaaaama, go see Black Swan.

Nina (Natalie Portman) has just been selected to play the lead role in a new version of Tchaikovsky's ballet Swan Lake. The problem, says Thomas, the director, (Vincent Cassel) is that, while Nina is perfect to play the pure and virginal White Swan, she falls short when trying to play the enigmatic and sensuous Black Swan. To play the Black Swan, then, Nina has to embrace her dark side.

As I said, Black Swan is a draaaaaaama, and, at least in story, not a very original one. Think of All about Eve mixed with The red shoes (the inevitable ballet movie). The good news is that the movie doesn't try to hide its origins. It is a draaaaaaaama (yes, with all those a's) and it's proud of it. Like all good draaaaaaaaamas, it is exagerated, morbid and at times comes close to being ridiculous. But hey, it's all part of the show, and I must say, this is a pretty good one precisely because it screams everything out loud. For example, Lily (Mila Kunis) is another ballerina wanting the lead role in the play. She's everything Nina is not. She's loose and sexy. Nina is enormously attracted to her: she's her dark side. Nina is the White Swan, Lily is the Black Swan, cappicci? If this is not clear enough, here goes another hint: Nina is always wearing white or light colors, while Lily is always wearing dark ones. The movie, I insist, is not subtle at all, and this is one of the reasons why the draaaaaaama works so well.

Like all good draaaaaaamas, Black Swan also comes close to horror. Nina's mind is cracking, its horrors are unleashed now. How can she get away from her? This is where Aronofsky's talent for creating unsettling atmospheres shines. The movie is not a 'jump-of-your-seat' horror film, but a stressing one. This, combined with all the draaaaaama, creates a unique, if not precisely comfortable, film experience. Black Swan is one of the most satisfying draaaaaaamas I've seen in a while.

I would like to end this review with a praise to Natalie Portman. The movie relies heavily on her performance, and I think that with any other actress the movie would not have been quite successful. She manages to create a completely likeable character at the beginning, and to keep us enthrilled with her descense to madness. If a great actress is that one who pulls a great performance, then with this film, more than with any other (even more than with Closer) we can say that Natalie Portman is a great actress.