Director/writer: Lucrecia Martel
Photography: Hugo Colace
Editor: Santiago Ricci
Cast: Graciela Borges, Mercedes Moran, Martin Adjemian, Andrea Lopez, Leonora Balcarce, Sofia Bertolotto, Juan Cruz Bordeu, Silvia Bayle, Diego Baenas
“La ciénaga” translates from Spanish as “the swamp,” a title used in Canada for this picture as well as for global promotion. But it was released in the US as La Ciénaga, reasons unclear, perhaps for concerns it might be confused with horror pictures like The Fog or The Mist or maybe Swamp Thing movies. Director and writer Lucrecia Martel’s first film might be suitable as horror, in a way, but it is more focused formally on the swampy, undifferentiated mix of personalities in big families, two of which are featured. As IMDb puts it, in one of the more laconic film summaries I’ve seen, “The life of two women and their families in a small provincial town of Salta, Argentina.” Salta may be provincial but it is also the medium-sized city (ca. 600,000 today) where Martel was born and raised.
La Ciénaga is not an easy movie—the first time I looked at it took two separate sessions to finish and even then I wasn’t sure what the picture was supposed to be. Did it just catch me in the wrong mood? A couple more tries have clarified some of its murky points (as murky if nothing else) and in general the picture seems to get better with some familiarity and close study. It offers up a swirling style of narrative (“swirling,” one of my favorite adjectives), an equally liquid, probing camera, and a big cast with many small notes. But you’ll have to decide for yourself what kind of recommendation that is. I tend to greet such evaluations with skepticism myself. Maybe it would help if I listed all the honors and awards it has received, from film festivals in Berlin, Chicago, Havana, and elsewhere—or maybe that would be equally off-putting. If I have to say whether it’s worth seeing, I can only say yes, cautiously.
Cast: Graciela Borges, Mercedes Moran, Martin Adjemian, Andrea Lopez, Leonora Balcarce, Sofia Bertolotto, Juan Cruz Bordeu, Silvia Bayle, Diego Baenas
“La ciénaga” translates from Spanish as “the swamp,” a title used in Canada for this picture as well as for global promotion. But it was released in the US as La Ciénaga, reasons unclear, perhaps for concerns it might be confused with horror pictures like The Fog or The Mist or maybe Swamp Thing movies. Director and writer Lucrecia Martel’s first film might be suitable as horror, in a way, but it is more focused formally on the swampy, undifferentiated mix of personalities in big families, two of which are featured. As IMDb puts it, in one of the more laconic film summaries I’ve seen, “The life of two women and their families in a small provincial town of Salta, Argentina.” Salta may be provincial but it is also the medium-sized city (ca. 600,000 today) where Martel was born and raised.
La Ciénaga is not an easy movie—the first time I looked at it took two separate sessions to finish and even then I wasn’t sure what the picture was supposed to be. Did it just catch me in the wrong mood? A couple more tries have clarified some of its murky points (as murky if nothing else) and in general the picture seems to get better with some familiarity and close study. It offers up a swirling style of narrative (“swirling,” one of my favorite adjectives), an equally liquid, probing camera, and a big cast with many small notes. But you’ll have to decide for yourself what kind of recommendation that is. I tend to greet such evaluations with skepticism myself. Maybe it would help if I listed all the honors and awards it has received, from film festivals in Berlin, Chicago, Havana, and elsewhere—or maybe that would be equally off-putting. If I have to say whether it’s worth seeing, I can only say yes, cautiously.
La Ciénaga is set in the dog days of a sweltering summer, where Mecha (Graciela Borges) and her brood have retreated to a country estate that is somewhat out of repair. The water in the swimming pool, for one thing, is abysmally filthy. The grownups have drawn chairs close to the water for the apparent cool of it and they drink silently. They know better than to touch the water. One girl spontaneously jumps in and soon regrets it—we’re not so wild about seeing it ourselves. The children crawl all over the estate and explore the hills beyond, from which come the regular report of gunshots. Some of the boys are up there menacing the wildlife and each other.
But the grownups are focused on their drinking and coping with the sultry conditions, where the best plan is to move as little as possible. Mecha’s cousin Tali (Mercedes Moran) shows up with her own kids. This picture is popping out all over with kids, from toddlers on up to adolescents feeling the effects of hormones and each other. Jose (Juan Cruz Bordeu)—Mecha’s oldest—is in his early 20s. He lives in Buenos Aires with an older woman and his visit for a few days is a highlight for his sisters and cousins. He puts on music and dances with them. His actual life appears to be very different from the one he presents to them here. He is inevitably growing up and growing apart from them.
Mecha’s husband Gregorio (Martin Adjemian) is accused of dyeing his hair too much. He’s ruining the linens. There are also problems with the servants, or Mecha imagines there are. Mecha is a middle-aged, self-pitying woman who drinks too much, forever bleary-eyed and unsteady on her feet. She takes a spill early in the movie, dropping her drink. The glass breaks and she falls into it and gets nasty cuts on her chest. Word is that Mecha’s mother took to her bed for the last 20 years of her life and Mecha appears to be on the verge of that herself. The phone rings and no one else will ever answer it.
There is an air in La Ciénaga of everything falling apart. Mecha is close to declaring herself bedridden. Mecha and Tali speak of taking a road trip to Bolivia for school supplies, which are reportedly cheaper there, but making the trip keeps eluding them and ultimately it never happens. Mecha kicks Gregorio out of their bed, partly over the hair dye but also just on general principles. He’s in the way there. She’s sick of him. She’s sick of everything. Every time the scene shifts to the forested hills, briefly and infrequently, things are just getting worse there. A cow is trapped in a bog and dies. The boys gather around to examine the corpse and the decomposition and trade cruel racial epithets. Dogs bark ceaselessly.
Is it the life of the middle class going degenerate? Or maybe just the unmoored frenzies of the last hot days of summer? No one seems to know for sure, or care much. They’re just trying to get through. The kids are only marginally looked after. They might be having the time of their lives but they might be closer to death than anyone knows. They all might be. We all might be. It’s a morass, nothing but a morass.
But the grownups are focused on their drinking and coping with the sultry conditions, where the best plan is to move as little as possible. Mecha’s cousin Tali (Mercedes Moran) shows up with her own kids. This picture is popping out all over with kids, from toddlers on up to adolescents feeling the effects of hormones and each other. Jose (Juan Cruz Bordeu)—Mecha’s oldest—is in his early 20s. He lives in Buenos Aires with an older woman and his visit for a few days is a highlight for his sisters and cousins. He puts on music and dances with them. His actual life appears to be very different from the one he presents to them here. He is inevitably growing up and growing apart from them.
Mecha’s husband Gregorio (Martin Adjemian) is accused of dyeing his hair too much. He’s ruining the linens. There are also problems with the servants, or Mecha imagines there are. Mecha is a middle-aged, self-pitying woman who drinks too much, forever bleary-eyed and unsteady on her feet. She takes a spill early in the movie, dropping her drink. The glass breaks and she falls into it and gets nasty cuts on her chest. Word is that Mecha’s mother took to her bed for the last 20 years of her life and Mecha appears to be on the verge of that herself. The phone rings and no one else will ever answer it.
There is an air in La Ciénaga of everything falling apart. Mecha is close to declaring herself bedridden. Mecha and Tali speak of taking a road trip to Bolivia for school supplies, which are reportedly cheaper there, but making the trip keeps eluding them and ultimately it never happens. Mecha kicks Gregorio out of their bed, partly over the hair dye but also just on general principles. He’s in the way there. She’s sick of him. She’s sick of everything. Every time the scene shifts to the forested hills, briefly and infrequently, things are just getting worse there. A cow is trapped in a bog and dies. The boys gather around to examine the corpse and the decomposition and trade cruel racial epithets. Dogs bark ceaselessly.
Is it the life of the middle class going degenerate? Or maybe just the unmoored frenzies of the last hot days of summer? No one seems to know for sure, or care much. They’re just trying to get through. The kids are only marginally looked after. They might be having the time of their lives but they might be closer to death than anyone knows. They all might be. We all might be. It’s a morass, nothing but a morass.
I've seen 3 movies by Martel, liked them all, esp. La Ciénaga. I admire the persistence some people have ... if I don't like a movie, I might revisit it down the line, but watching it two more times soon after the first viewing is apparently beyond me. Luckily, I liked La Ciénaga from the start.
ReplyDeleteSometimes I'm pretty sure I'm too committed to these classic movie lists.
ReplyDeleteI'm right there with you. I just don't often rewatch the ones I don't like :-).
ReplyDelete