Vies brûlées

BURNT MONEY (Plata Quemada)

Aspect ratio: 1.85:1

Sound format: Dolby Digital

Argentina, 1965: Following a violent robbery on an armored car, two gay lovers - rebellious rich kid Nene (Leonardo Sbaraglia) and borderline schizophrenic Ángel (Eduardo Noriega) - are forced to flee with their accomplices to Uruguay, where they take refuge in a decaying apartment building. Denied sexual favors by Ángel due to his worsening mental condition, Nene takes up with a sympathetic prostitute (Leticia Brédice), leading to jealousy, betrayal and tragedy...

Based on true events recounted in a non-fiction novel by Argentinian writer/critic Ricardo Piglia, and directed by former producer Marcelo Piñeyro (THE OFFICIAL STORY), BURNT MONEY is a masterpiece. Photographed with noirish intensity by Alfredo Mayo (HIGH HEELS) and underscored by an ironic soundtrack of lazy jazz and contemporary English/Spanish pop songs, the narrative is driven by powerful emotions which explode at regular intervals in outpourings of explicit sex and violence. The sacred and profane are interlinked in various ways (one extraordinary sequence cross-cuts between an act of worship in a Uruguayan church and an unpleasant encounter between Nene and a frightened youth in a public toilet), and the sweaty atmosphere is broken only by an explosive climax where the main protagonists are forced to take responsibility for their actions. Former TV actor Pablo Echarri ("Chiquititas", "El Signo", etc.) plays a younger, headstrong member of the outlaw gang, blinded by youthful arrogance to the danger in which they have all become enmeshed, while Brédice (NINE QUEENS) plays one of the few significant female characters in this otherwise all-male scenario, a brittle creature who falls in love with the wrong guy, with appalling consequences for everyone around her.

More than anything else, however, BURNT MONEY is a love story, played to perfection by two of the finest young actors of their generation. Spanish heartthrob Noriega forged his career in popular mainstream entries such as THESIS, OPEN YOUR EYES and THE DEVIL'S BACKBONE, while Sbaraglia plied his trade alongside Piñeyro in the lower echelons of Argentinian cinema (TANGO FEROZ: LA LEYENDA DE TANGUITO, CABALLOS SALVAJES). Casting these two beautiful, experienced young men as lovers in a violent true-crime drama could not have been more fortuitous: Their devotions are rarely consummated on-screen (all of the aforementioned sex scenes are heterosexual), except for a chaste kiss at the end of the film, and an earlier, erotically-charged sequence in which Nene tends to a wound on Ángel's shoulder and initiates a sexual advance, only to be rebuffed because of Ángel's mental condition. And yet, Noriega and Sbaraglia are ultra-convincing as the macho thugs who would literally die for one another, and they invest every gesture, every inflection, with genuine romantic chemistry. These guys simply burn up the screen! Look out for the devastating sequence in which Nene 'confesses' to Brédice about his relationship with Ángel, where he describes their mutual affection with heartbreaking emotional candor.

To his credit, Piñeyro refuses to soft-pedal the dissolute nature of his central characters. But for all its dramatic fireworks and sexual tension, BURNT MONEY is a tale of steadfast devotion, as touching and beautiful as any this reviewer has ever seen. They may be thieves and murderers, but when Nene looks into Ángel's eyes, you know instinctively that their love transcends life and death, and is destined to last an eternity. Not just a great gay film, BURNT MONEY is also a terrific love story, a heartstopping thriller, and an outstanding example of popular Spanish entertainment.

(Spanish dialogue)

An excellent movie where everything is beautiful - from the crumbling, claustrophobic backdrops of the antagonists' hiding places, the actors and the background music.

Besides showing an unusual homosexual relationship, the film also questions the relationship between sex, love and violence - even when the main characters turn "straight" violence and death hang in the air, with scenes sex often interspliced with those of death and agony.

More importantly, you can't help but feel sorry - and yet almost envious - for the doomed (and did I mention beautiful?) lovers as they slide towards their inevitable end, just for the incredible passion they have for each other.

Argentina, 1965. A heist goes wrong. Three men are on the run looking for a place to hide. They find it in Montevideo, they need false passports to leave so they wait day after day until the police come and everything goes apocalyptic.

The bare facts.

But the real movie is about the two killers in the gang, El Nene and Angel, called Los Mellizos (the twins). They are not related. They are lovers: two fugitives sharing loneliness and pain, living their lives on the edge. It's the story of a doomed relationship, confined into four rooms where intense passion and violence push the extremes.

In their hostile world of drugs, cheap sex, prejudice and revenge they have to deal with a feeling born from repression and the fear of naming it. There is, above all, their desperate search for love and loyalty that makes them some kind of tragic heroes in the end.

Seldom has cinema faced the subject of masculine desire and affection in such a natural, honest and even tender way. For sure a different sight of an action movie and a remarkable piece of acting.

Worth seeing.

I won't rehash the details again, as so many previous comments have done wonderful jobs on discussing the plot and technical aspects of this film.

I want to commend the leads on their brilliant job. Often when (male) actors are asked to "play gay" you get an overly sexualized relationship - as though they feel the only way to portray the connection between men is through overt lust.

The director and actors here, have instead sought out a more subtle, but infinitely more honest portrayal. Every touch and sidelong glance between Nene and Angel just burns with intimacy. They might have the least on-screen sex, but this is the relationship that you really believe. The actors truly seem comfortable with their bodies, with touching one another, and so whether they are touching or just looking at each other - you can feel that familiarity they share and the intimacy translates beautifully onto the screen. Really an amazing performance of body-language.

My one complaint about "Plate quemada" is the rather shoddy subtitles. I can understand enough of the language to be able to pick up when the sub's aren't direct, or are leaving out dialogue. I HATE that. In a film such as this, when so much of the plot depends on the characters and their relationships, it becomes agonizing not to know exactly what they're saying.

Burnt Money is an exceptional film in the crime drama genre and stands quite well as director Marcelo Pineyero provides Hollywood with an example of what subtlety can bring to cinema. This film also does its best as a commentary of the internal division between the people and the corrupt government in Argentina, as showcased by the character Nando, played by Carlos Roffe. A few scenes strike out at me for recounting the director's work and it also must be said that the work of the actors that portrayed Nene, Angel and Cuervo was thoughtful and delivered with subtlety to match that of the director's nuanced vision of the world that the trio inhabits.

Two scenes that immediately jump to mind are those that weave both dramatic long takes with clever use of diagetic sound to create a suspenseful dramatic scene. The two scenes are of the moment that Vivi is captured by the police and the 'relaxing' scene at the beach party with the trio. I enjoyed both of these scenes very much due to the director's courage to use a long take to add suspense. The suspense in these scenes however is not the same as the violent and gore soaked films we call 'suspense', but a more chilling and ominous sense of dread is evoked with the stillness of each scene. There is a moment that both scenes erupt with action, and the music within each scene accentuates the moment that the juxtaposition of mood occurs. Basically the manipulation of music within the scene such as the record being torn off the player just as the party erupts show that the director made disciplined use of all the tools in his arsenal to create a fully imagined atmosphere and mood.