Whisky

There's much to appreciate, and yes the repetitive nature of much of the film (perfectly represented by the whirring of the machines in the factory) is part of its allure and yet...in some respects I can't disagree with those who hurled horrible ratings at this film. It IS tedious. That doesn't mean it's not worth watching, but I have to admit it's hard to give boundless kudos to something that barely keeps your attention at times. I've never seen a film where the same things that make it brilliant, also make it dull and hard to watch.

A struggling Uruguayan businessman persuades his equally unglamourous assistant to pretend to be his wife in order to impress his estranged brother. If this conjures up thoughts of 'The Birdcage', or you imagine a riotous South American carnival of a film, you'd best prepare yourself otherwise, for 'Whisky' is characterised by almost exaggeratedly understated acting and a bone dry humour;, and its real subject matter is the psychology of failure. At start, it feels slow, but as one gets used to the characters, one sees more of the joke and sadness in the subtle plot. There are some resemblances to early Jarmusch, but even so, it's questionable whether one can make a wholly successful movie when quite so little explicit happens. In Uruguay, incidentally, they say "whisky" instead of "cheese" when a photograph is taken; but the deeper meaning of the film's title remains elusive at its end.

I couldn't disagree more with the last comment. Probably the best movie to come out of Uruguay in a long time. This is a beautiful subtle movie but definitely not for those who need to be told when to laugh or when to feel. Full of humor, full of sadness, and really smart. A great step towards maturity taken by the directors of "25 watts". I cant wait to see where they go with their third movie. Anyone has any idea? Again, if you need an applause sign to tell you what's good, you wont know what to do with this movie.

Give subtlety a try.

Keep it simple.

This movie is a true gem. Perhaps not for everyone, but those who can appreciate subtle, sensitive films will not be disappointed. In fact, subtlety is the keyword in this film. Nothing is spelled out, nobody even raises his voice, and still the story is full of emotion. It's all about small gestures and unspoken words. Take the way the viewer initially discovers that Hernan is richer and more successful than his brother Jacobo. There's nothing about Hernan's clothing or his behaviour that suggests this, but Jacobo suspects that the pair of socks his brother gave him are more expensive than the pair Jacobo gave his brother. The movie is packed with these kind of small signals, and that is exactly its strength, together with the superb acting and the nice locations (the soccer stadium!). In that way, the movie is comparable to Finnish director Aki Kaurismaki's style.

Much nothing ever happens in your life.

You go through the routine of sleeping and waking at the same times, travelling to work on the public bus, spending your day at your job which doesn't give you any kind of immediate remuneration. Your mind idles off to whether the money for the job is worth spending your life on, then you take the public bus home again, looking out at the sights you are used to, listening to the music you feel the most comfortable in. And usually on this bus ride home, most of the angst you feel in the morning is replaced by a irrepressible fatigue that tells you honestly that life is not just about chasing pipe dreams; life is also about going through it as best you can and surviving.

And as this goes on you get used to not expecting much out of life, not expecting much out of relationships, because that's the easiest way to be, just being. There is not much need to expand, really. There is not much need to feel the crests and falls of emotions. There is not much need to continue seeking, to continue dreaming, to continue hoping. And this is by no way any mistake; this is only part of the process of going through life, getting eased into it to not allow yourself any more anger that comes from lost hopes. Soon, as you get settled into your groove, you don't find going through the same days mundane anymore. You don't question what is expected of you out of life. You don't feel the need to keep expanding and expanding anymore.

Once in a while, you grant yourself the pleasure of watching a picture in a darkened cinema, vicariously and voraciously living the lives of people you don't know; people whose lives seem more exciting than yours; people who experience highs and lows so much that you feel as if you are experiencing the same highs and the same lows. You sit alone in the darkened theater by yourself--you are used to being alone--while somewhere else behind you, young couples are busy checking each other's necks out with their tongues. You see this, but you don't bother. You are only interested in the people living on the screen with you, sharing with you their pains and their hopes. Then you walk out of the cinema, and your life returns back to you. You realize that it is only a short relief, before you have to face reality again, the reality that you are really not so special.

Sometimes, the people in the movies cease being characters. They cease becoming people whom you fantasize about or feel pity for. Their lives suddenly seem so mundane and simple to you, and like you, they have stopped dreaming and started living in the real world. You see their everyday movements, everyday actions of endless repetition, and their normal, placid emotions that do not dare affect them in their daily lives. You grow so used to the repetitive actions, the repetitive shots, the repetitive dialogues, their every movement, that you find them so familiar. You feel as if you are sharing in some of their private lives, even if it is just make-believe. And when they discover something kind or special in their routine lives, your eyes widen and your heart fills with warmth. Mundane lives can be so beautiful too! You tell yourself secretly.

And in their daily effort to live, you see how their lives subtly affect other people's lives. You see how such small acts of kindness, can gladden your heart. You see how they are used to their loneliness, and then when they find companionship, you see how gladly they hang on to them, no matter how minute their friendship may seem. You see how comical they are in their lonesome blues, and you sneak a laugh at them, knowing fully that at the same time, you are laughing at yourself and with them too. Then you find that after all, there is comedy in pathos, and there is sorrow in bliss too.

At the end of the movie, the movie ends and the characters fade away into the blackness of the screen and the dark recesses of your memories. And suddenly you miss the repetition that bored you earlier, the simple mundaneness that was conveyed so simply. As you walk out of the cinema and see people walking out together with you, you feel more alone than ever before, as you're deprived of your newfound friends that you have fallen in love with in that short span of 95 minutes; like when you get used to being with other people, being lonesome again suddenly seems so difficult. And as you sit at the back of the cab on your way home, you feel that you've lost something special, even if that specialness came from make-believe situations, and a tear runs slowly down your cheek.