Piñeyro shows trivial take on serious matters
Argentine Marcelo Piñeyro is a curious case of a filmmaker: half of his films are downright forgettable and simplistic — even for feel-good mainstream cinema. But the other half includes accomplished and somewhat inspired works.
His debut film, Tango Feroz (1994), was an unprecedented success: 1,500,000 youngsters flocked to see the mythical story of legendary national rock star Tanguito. It’s true that Piñeyro’s overly sentimental and one-dimensional story has undesirable differences with the life of the real Tanguito. Yet, since it’s unabashedly easy to like and never pretentious, it works out in its own right.
On the contrary, Caballos salvajes (1995) and Cenizas del paraíso (1997) are very disappointing. They have lofty ambitions and seek to insightfully explore existential matters. But trite dialogue, poorly developed characters, and corny dramatic situations don’t go far at all.
But his following movie, Plata quemada (2000, an adaptation of Argentine writer Ricardo Piglia’s eponymous novel), is quite well filmed and much credible. It features fleshed-out characters, the action sequences are convincing, and the homoeroticism is ever present in a seductive manner. And the spirit of the novel is well preserved.
Then came Kamchatka (2002), which subtly and skillfully portrays the struggle of an Argentine family to hide from the military police during the 1976-1983 dictatorship. Very good acting, a seemingly simple story very well told, great insights, and an appropriately intimate tone do make a difference.
But it all went downhill once again with El método (2005), based on a play about the recruitment of a top executive from seven ferocious applicants. Shot with little visual imagination, too talky and poorly acted, El método is simply unmemorable. With Las viudas de los jueves (2009), which deals with the unhappy lives of unhappy people living in gated communities, things get much, much worse. Awful acting, contrived dialogue, a poorly narrated storyline, an unnecessary slow pace — and the list goes on.
And now there’s Ismael, Piñeyro’s first Spanish production, which tells the story of an 8-year-old mulatto kid who travels from Madrid to Barcelona hoping to meet his biological father, come what may. Once in Barcelona, some other stories begin to take shape around his own: one involves the relationship between Ismael’s father and his own mother; another one is about a friend who lives with Ismael; the third focuses on Ismael and his mother; then yet another one involves Ismael and his grandmother. Of course, there’s the relationship between Ismael and his absent father, which started the whole affair.
So now you have too many stories for one film — unless, of course, there’s a strong narrative focus and a good deal of depth to get to their very essence. But that’s not the case here. The narrative moves along a rather superfluous and imprecise path that doesn’t do justice to the complexities and subjectivities of the material. As in some of his previous films, Piñeyro’s new opus simplifies serious matters in order to render them more accessible — and in a bad way. It’s also sentimental, but in the wrong parts, that is to say, when a degree of emotional restraint was called for. This is not the grand story of a mythical and legendary rock star, but a character study that’s meant to be serious and perceptive. And it’s not. And when some big meanings are spelled out for viewers, the dialogue becomes lethal, if not risible.
And to think that during the film’s first half the conflict is properly set up, all the events make sense and are somewhat gripping; a couple of possible subplots are introduced promptly, and so you are eager to see how they will unfold; the overall pace is accurate, for it’s neither hectic nor languid; the characters get some appealing nuances, and thus they start to have personalities of their own. But you’ll be watching a film that goes somewhere. It’s clear it’s not going to be a groundbreaking work, but it seems it will pay off.
Not too long afterwards, you realize you were dead wrong: throughout the rest of the film, Piñeyro barely scratches the surface of the heart of Ismael. This story has enough potential to make two movies. Too bad not nearly half of that potential is fulfilled. The more the film progresses, the flatter it becomes. Granted, in formal terms Ismael is accomplished — the attractive cinematography, the fine editing, or the successful art direction. No doubt that when it comes to production values, Piñeyro’s new work is well done.
But perhaps the most annoying problem is that Ismael is too talky, which turns out quite unfortunate here. In real life, people don’t utter perfect dramatic lines that sum up their dilemmas and show discerning opinions of every issue around them. Likewise, the performances begin to lose momentum as the film becomes more and more flimsy and artificial. Ismael himself, played by Larson do Amaral, is too smart (as was to be expected) and too mature. Since the kid’s performance is akin to the character, don’t expect a confused and worried real life boy: this Ismael is a boy made for the movies.
