pedrito

Are the sixties back?

That's the impression you get after seeing "American Beauty", because there is a sense of morality based on spontaneity as salvation, or a 'Hurry up, brothers, there's still time to rethink and recover' attitude. And a somewhat hidden sense of a generation gap, so dear to the hearts of people born in the forties, who were in their twenties by 1968.

A great script! And don't forget that the scriptwriter was born in 1957.

In most of Latin America, beneath the bottom in the social scale there still live people. And a lot of those people are children. Kids without parents. With no school. Bereft of the joys of childhood. Deprived of any future. Children for whom abuse, rape and even violent death are everyday occurrences.

This view ‘from underneath the bottom' is a recurrent theme in recent Latin American cinema or in movies based on Latin American novels.

A few examples: `Capitaes da Areia' (Engl. title ‘The sandpit generals'), directed by Hall Bartlett in 1972, written by Brazilian Jorge Amado, was based on true stories about streetwise rascals in Salvador de Bahía. Another Brazilian film, `Pixote: A Lei do Mais Fraco' (Hector Babenco, 1981) revived the same theme using real abandoned kids as players, and when Fernando Ramos Da Silva, the leading actor, was actually killed in those same streets, Paulo Halm and Jose Joffily continued the saga with the sequel `Quem matou Pixote?' (‘Who killed Pixote?', 1996).

In Argentina, the recent `Pizza, birra y faso' (Adrián Caetano & Bruno Stagnaro, 1997) reformulated the subject for present day Buenos Aires, and there are two great and dreadful Colombian films (both by Víctor Gaviria): `Rodrigo D.' (Engl. title ‘Rodrigo D: no future', 1990) and `La vendedora de rosas' (1998), which painted the same motif in still darker colors.

Now a new member has added to this family of true-to-life films, about the menacing insurgence of the desperado human products that arouse from the explosive mixture of extreme poverty, social segregation and a complete lack of hope.

The 1999 Ecuadorian film `Ratas, ratones, rateros' (Engl. title ‘Rodents') has just won the Trieste Latin Film Festival (both the Grand Prix and the Opera Prima awards), after being acclaimed at the ‘Mostra' in Venice and at the Toronto Film Festival. Its author (writer/director) is Sebastián Cordero, born in Ecuador (1972) and a graduate of USC. The film was completed on a very low budget (just below the 200,000 dollars line). 35 mm. 109 min.

‘Rodents' shares with its predecessors a common and implicit wrath against social injustice, a widespread compassion for its victims, a taste for street language and vulgarisms, a tragical and hopeless film ending and a certain apocalyptic comprehension of the future.

No one can blame Cordero because of this point of view. It's quite understandable. Ecuador, a small South American country, is immersed in a deep economical crisis, has changed four governments in the last five years and is currently ranking among the most corrupt countries in the world. Therefore, there is little room for hope.

Yet Cordero stands on that last piece of hope. While Gaviria's appalling films should be considered almost docudramas, because of their extensive use of wild and improvised footage and sound, ‘Rodents' is entirely fiction. This fact allows Cordero to develop the film's subject without any trace of pamphleteer's or social reformer's speech, while giving his theme a treatment entirely free of any effete or wimpy false sympathy for the street hardened characters he depicts.

Based on reality, but reconstructed and rearranged in the mind of an artist, the film becomes a forceful condemnation of the situation it enlightens and must be considered a powerful weapon in the struggle for a better future in his country.

A standing ovation for Sebastián Cordero, a young master.

In this film we are confronted with a perfect script if there ever was one! Once again, talented screenwriters have proved that a fine novel can be transformed into a great film, without losing any depth in philosophical understanding or psychological subtlety. In 'Character', the paired tension between pride and guilt, as well as between pride and love, or guilt and love, or love and power, gives birth to an astounding and magnificent lesson in human character and behavior. The fact that Mike van Diem and Laurens Geels, two of the film's three writers, were at the same time -respectively- its director and producer, plays no small role in the success of the script, since the novel by Bordewijk was read -and rewritten- from the perspective of cinema, and not the other way around. The psychological themes are treated as variations in a symphony, presented in one of the characters and later developed in another, or presented in one form and then transmuted into another, as the brilliant treatment given to the self-destructive tendencies in the Dreverhaven character, or the extreme laconism in the mother-son relationship. Seen at a tropical country as Ecuador (my own), surrounded by a teenage audience that was led to expect something else; an audience which was only very slowly won by the tense and restrained 'northern', 'iceberg' pace of the film, 'Character' transformed the screen into a gigantic and painful mirror filled with reflections of the sorrows and sufferings of human nature. And finally those teenagers stopped crunching chips and sipping sodas, and started thinking. A '10' by any standard.