Amores Perros Review
By Roburado
Three Dog Day Afternoons
Alejandro González Iñárritu's directorial debut is set in Mexico City. Amores Perros is a film about three dog lovers—each at different social strata—and their intersecting stories. The first story shown is that of Octavio who is having an affair with his sister-in-law Susana. Octavio lives with his mother, brother, sister-in-law, his infant nephew, and his beloved rottweiler Cofi in a cement-and-particle board home. After seeing that Cofi is a particularly good fighter, Octavio sets him loose in a series of back alley dogfights for money. Octavio hopes that he can earn enough money to woo his sister-in-law away from his ne'er-do-well brother. At first, Octavio's desire seems loving and earnest. Later, it feels pathetic and obsessive. At either end of the spectrum the performances are appropriately adept.
The second story is that of supermodel Valeria, the mistress of publishing executive Daniel. Valeria becomes crippled and subsequently confined to a wheelchair. Most of Valeria's story has to do with her dog Richie being trapped under the floorboards in her apartment. Richie's ordeal is made worse by rats gnawing at him at every turn. Valeria's relationship is clearly strained under the stress of losing her career, nearly losing her life, and nearly losing her beloved dog. It is slowly and convincingly revealed to Valeria and viewers that her life has been irrevocably changed.
The third story is that of El Chivo, a former university professor who left behind his family and career to become a revolutionary guerrilla. He is thought to be dead, but instead he walks the streets of Mexico City. El Chivo lives in a rundown building with his band of stray dogs. El Chivo lives on the detritus of urban life and the money he makes as a hitman. El Chivo wants desperately to return to his family. Unfortunately, his wife has remarried, and his daughter has never known him.
The three stories unfold in a Tarantinian fashion. The film's structure seems to be something of an homage to Pulp Fiction. The narrative is non-linear and brilliantly conceived. As the film progresses through the three stories, more and more is revealed about their connection, which does not generally feel contrived. Their intersection—the stories literally connect at a street corner—seems to be a completely logical consequence of both the events in the stories and the character's proclivities.
From the first frame, the viewer is confronted with grainy film stock which underscores the gritty reality of life in a developing country. The dirty timbre of the soundtrack's half-distorted electric guitars seem to be in prosody with the visuals. A recent contrast is the clean picture of Panama City afforded by The Tailor of Panama which seems to underscore the main characters' detachment from life on the streets. In Amores, one can almost feel the polluted air of Mexico City pouring into one's lungs. Iñárritu sets the scene beautifully.
Amores' strength, however, lies in the humanity revealed in each story. Like Steven Soderbergh's Traffic, Amores features a capable ensemble. Each story is one of loss. Iñárritu and his players are up to the task of vividly portraying the losses experienced by Octavio, Valeria, and El Chivo. The pathos of their character's most desperate moments is convincingly projected. For this, Amores is engrossing.
If Amores has a weakness, it is in its pacing and editing. Brevity may be the soul of wit, but I can see how Iñarritu may be attempting to show life as it unfolds rather than making a "movie". The film moves along more at the pace of Soderbergh's documentary-style Traffic. Regardless of the director's intent, the film does feel a bit long. At some points, the characters from different stories pass each other in the streets. It is enough that the stories intersect at that fateful intersection. However, having main characters pass each other on the streets later in the movie, seems superfluous. It's as if the filmmakers are belaboring the point that we live in a small world.
A significant point that is missed in Hollywood movies is that life never seems to turn out exactly as one hopes it will. Amores never misses out on this point. Hollywood movies often see people seeking redemption. Real life all too often sees people failing in their quests. Amores never depicts life improving in that respect. Thankfully, there are no happy endings in Amores. The movie's English title, Love's a Bitch, is wholly appropriate. Each story ends as it ends. We never are told whether the stories turn out for the better or for the worse, which seems to be the way life truly unfolds. It is through hindsight alone that we can adequately evaluate the events of our lives. Amores like the fantastic Tapestry episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation does not miss out on this point.
Throughout Amores' two-and-a-half hours and change, I have to admit that I did check my watch a couple of times. At times, it was because I wondered how many more minutes of pleasure I was going to derive from watching this film. At times, I wondered how much time the director was going to leave for the remaining stories. At times, I just wondered how much longer I had to sit there in the theater. Although Amores is long, the film provides a satisfying alternative to most Hollywood products. It is certainly more evocative and more real.
