A vendedora de Rosas

The way Gaviria works with his natural actors and actresses, made it possible to recreate, with real life homeless kids, the way of living in the street for those who life didn't give a chance. This film has the power to show the crudeness of the Medellín streets and its habitants without taking position, or judging, but also without having innocents, because, in a way, we are all part of it. Gaviria's most important characteristic is how he manage to enter deeply into the world of the ones who are placed aside, without contaminating their version of life, getting this people to talk and "confess" the things they have had to pass through, with the most sincere and professional investigation.

La Vendedora de Rosas is a companion piece to Victor Gaviria's 1990 Rodrigo D:no futuro, about the lives of street boys from Medellin,Colombia. Vendedora focuses on girls equally affected by poverty, ignorance, abuse and neglect. It earns a place next to Mira Nair's Salaam Bombay and Hector Babenco's Pixote, excellent urban youth films in the tradition of Bunuel's Los Olvidados. Vendedora does not shy away from depicting the effects of drugs, violence, and family dysfunction while allowing for brief moments of tenderness and solidarity, even joy. Gaviria has enlisted street kids in enacting events from their daily lives, during 48 hours preceding Christmas. The film refuses to cheapen their plight with plot contrivances or stylistic flourishes. The spanish spoken is specific to the youth of Medellin, a welcome challenge to most native speakers. The fate of the characters evolves naturally from earlier scenes, without being predictable. I recommend La Vendedora de Rosas to anybody who considers film a window to the world of folks we wouldn't otherwise be able to access and an opportunity to understand it.

i came upon this film @ the library and comparing the film to the summary given, i was literally taken aback. We are immediately thrown into the fast paced, distracting and intense urban climate in which these children survive. I had some difficulty reading the subtitles and absorbing the story, for the children speak quickly and move swiftly (minus the glue huffing). At times I was questioning whether this film could be part documentary , part true story. the child actors are comfortable around and maturely aware of the camera, their deft improv dialog feels habitual and routine, as if they have and do live this lifestyle. Reminiscent of "CHildren Underground", this film will call to your heart and your curiosity. It amazes me how the children narrowly escape havoc or ruin with every step.

Bravo to this powerful film.

From the original Edison shorts, through to Dziga Vertov's Man With a Movie Camera, onto Italian Neo-realism and beyond, there has been a long-standing fascination with cinema's ability to represent reality. Naturally, special effects and highly-stylised cinematography have their place but the way in which cinema has been able to reveal and represent the finer details of everyday experience is something which has always enriched the artform.

La Vendedora de Rosas is an exponent of this quality. It films the barrios of Medellín, Colombia, in a manner which makes you feel as if you have experienced them directly. The film is, for the most part, completely non-judgemental, it merely gives us an extended glimpse of a reality which is likely very different to our own. It unflinchingly shows domestic violence, child-prostitution, street gang violence, juvenile delinquency, drug-taking and more. The camera is used as an open gaze: after each fight, verbal insult, or sexual advance made towards a minor, the film simply continues onto the next scene. The message clearly communicated is that what we are witnessing is simply normal life for the characters involved. They may be children but their lives are anything but innocent.

The film's value doesn't just lie in its verisimilitude, although it is worth noting that all of the actors were non-professionals and lived lives very similar to those represented in the film, it also strikes a chord because of how naturalistic and touching the central performances are, particularly Lady Tabares, who plays Mónica the eponymous rose seller. She is a young girl who left her family home seemingly due to not being able to come to terms with the death of her grandmother. Her grandmother appears to be the only person in her life who played a genuinely nurturing role and she is represented as a figure of angelic, redemptive quality in the short and subtle fantasy scenes which occur in the film and act as a departure from its generally more naturalistic style. The fact that Mónica feels that her life requires redemption tells us a great deal about her character: she is living the life that she feels forced to live, she has not chosen to enter a world of drug-taking and delinquency (who would?) she has fallen into it. Sadly, it seems very unlikely that she will be able to escape it.

The film does, unfortunately, verge on melodrama in the final act, which is a misjudgement in my view, but, for the most part, its unblinking representation of a world which offers constant threat and very little hope is one which is as eye-opening as it is stark. This is a film which, as much as any other, is able to capture the reality of the world that many inhabit. It's not just engaging cinema, it's a cultural and social education.

This is a movie that shows the life of a little girl who sells flowers in the streets of Medellin, Colombia. The violence, the drugs, the misery, are his partners every day.

The movie is good, made with kids of the streets, there are no real actors here. The pain in the eyes of the kids is real.