Amores Perros

by Jim.

"Love's a Bitch" reads the subtitle when the words "Amores Perros" flash across the screen, and I imagine if you were so inclined, you could make this a "Bicycle Theives" argument. Given the nature of the film, "Love's a Dog" could just as easily been the subtitle, but when the converging pieces of this film fall into place, I'd be hard pressed to find something I care less about.

Shot in a somewhat washed-out manner, the visual "style" echoes any number of recent films [e.g. Traffic, Way of the Gun] for which grain must have been one of the director's major pre-occupations. I'd suggest next time Alejandro Inarritu spend a little more time on story and character development. At least. Then work on setups and pacing, and finally, if it's an important choice that adds something to the film, by all means go for that "edgy" grain.

The film's intersecting stories, stitched together with a unifying car crash, are just begging the viewer to sit up long after the film's close and ask "What does it all mean?" Like Memento, riddles of these sorts of narrative structure and wordplay leave the viewer with little choice but to hunker down after the film, perhaps over a few drinks, with friends or alone, and chew through the story until there is little left to wonder about. And then what? All that will be left of the film are vague memories punctuated by moments of stock emotions, elicited with the subtlety of a pink zebra.

"Art for the bored," as a local reviewer called it, and that's just what it feels like. Just when you begin to fidget in your seats, you're "treated" to the "shock" of a dog getting shot, of a car crash, and basically events which are telegraphed with the clumsiness of an amateur boxer.

Lately, my forays into the theater [or lounging in front of my DVD player] have left me to categorize my film watching experiences in three different ways : The best experiences are those had at the hands of a skilled filmmaker who brings to bear all of their skill in such a manner that I find uplifting, tickling my mind in delightful ways. Most recently, films that have done this are Wes Anderson's Bottlerocket, and a second viewing of Renoir's Grand Illusion. Next best are those films which take this same amount of care, display an equally impressive range of skill, but force me to explore the darker elements of my psyche - think Touch of Evil or The Shining. The worst experiences I've had, are those films which make me feel nothing - this is where, regrettably, I'd have to place Amores Perros.

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