La teta y la luna

I recently saw Iñárritu's most recent experiment with cinematic narrative, so I pulled this out. I've been saving it for such an occasion, where I need something from a Spanish mind that is as direct as anything in Hollywood.

But it involves two things that Hollywod just cannot seem to do: pre-adolescent wonder about sex, and genuine magical realism. I don't like the term because it is at once too broad (like "surrealism" and "irony") and at the same time usually expressed too simply. Here, the magical worlds we shift in and out of are worlds driven by lactation: one of a boy's fantasy yearning a the second of the physics of what he encounters explained through that world. And there's a third which is shared only between us as adults and the filmmaker.

That adult magical world is populated by a French couple: a young dancer played by the desirable Mathilda May and her husband who performs with her. His stage skill is farting, and he bills himself as the man of fire, appearing in fire-painted leathers and with a motorcycle as prop, both for the stage show and the film proper.

There's a magical folding of course between the show they put on, the one confabulated by the boy, the one we see in the film, and one managed by the boys' dad. In this latter case, the boy strives to be the top of a penis constructed of men. It begins the film where the boy fails and ends with him fully erect, imagining May's breasts, suckling both her's and his mother's.

The French performing farter is loosely based on a real French performer: Joseph Pujol, billed as Le Pétomane. He was the most successful entertainer in late nineteenth century France.

This film isn't Spanish at all, instead from a land called Catalonia, a quite unique land that some would say is temporarily occupied by Spain. Its a rather wonderful place which includes Barcelona. The language is more impulsive than French, more languidly sensual than Italian and far more pleasing to the ear than Spanish. It borders on France and has been influenced linguistically at least by that proximity. But just as the Brazilains make fun of the Portuguese, so the Catalons make fun of the French. You have to know that to appreciated the lack of wholeness the French couple has, plus jokes like the French loaf for a penis.

Performing: the couple performs on stage; the little boy on top of the human phallus; the older teen on the woman (and singing to her); and certain nipples produce on call.

Ted's Evaluation -- 3 of 3: Worth watching.

No other movie has made me feel like this before... and I don't feel bad. Like, I don't want my money back or the time that I waited to watch this movie (9 months) nor do I feel bad about using two hours of a sunny summer day in order to view this ______. The reason I say "_____" is because no matter how hard I wrack my brain I just can't seem to come up with a word in ANY of the seven languages that movie was in to sum it up. I have no idea what was going on the entire time and half way through the movie I needed a breather. No movie has ever done this to me before. Never in my life have I wanted cauliflower, milk, and baguettes this much. Thank you. - Ed

Uh. *clears throat* No words. No thoughts. I don't know. I truly don't know. - Cait

In Bigas Lunas' final part of his 'Iberian passion trilogy', The Tit & the Moon is both a refreshingly open foray into the fantasies of the female flesh by a young boy, Tete (Biel Duan) but also one with more of a message.

In his mind, breast milk means love, as his mother's maternal affections turn totally to his baby brother. When she breast-feeds him and he nuzzles up and is content and happy - and Tete is not, Tete soon decides that what he needs from Life is a breast all to himself.

On a silvery, moonlit beach, one night, he prays for such and soon a French couple, a cabaret double act, move in locally and his fascinations and fantasies turn to her. She's (Mathilda May) a knowing and sexy sort of circus dancer - dark and seductive.

Whilst the film deals openly and slightly naughtily about sex, desire and womanly seduction, it never feels dirty or squalid, though you wouldn't make it the no. 1 choice to show to your Granny. The humour is earthy and natural, whilst as with the best of European cinema, there's that hint of fantasy and a heightened, fiery emotion.

The Tit &... is gentler and less charged than the other two of Luna's trilogy - arguably Jamon Jamon is better, Goldenballs a bit of a bad mistake and this, with its narration by the young boy, it's more akin to Cinema Paradiso. It also has a certain charm about it and in some ways, The Tit &... could be my favourite of Lunas' trilogy.

Probably Bigas Luna's finest achievement for it achieves a delicate balance between sleaze, eroticism and surrealism. The delicious Mathilda May, who spent most of Tobe Hooper's "Lifeforce" in the buff, is the object of young Biel Duran's pre-teen lust. He can't get May's breasts out of his mind and wants so badly to suckle them and suckle the breasts of his own mother, too. His pursuit of May IS the film. As in Luna works such as "Lulu" and "Jamon! Jamon!", the director brings a slightly warped sexual sensibility to his strange but beautiful tale. The usual suspects will be offended, but those with open minds will enjoy this frothy erotic poem to the female breast. José Luis Alcaine's images are gorgeous and Nicola Piovani's score is sweet and rich. A gorgeous cinematic confection with a delightfully anarchic sensibility that the Spanish do so naturally.

La Teta i la Luna (The Breast and the Moon) describes the life of a 9-10 year old boy named Tete who is obsessed with breasts growing up in Catalunya. I love this movie because the characters are very honest and very human, like all the characters in Bigas Luna's movies (also director of Jamon, Jamon). Tete reminded me of how intriguing and exciting life can be at that age. Also being from Catalunya (North-east of Spain) it brought lots of memories to my mind. This movie shows how beautiful Catalunya is, nice people, nice life and specially lots of non-uptight people.