Peruvian Academy Nominee finally opens: Claudia Llosa's THE MILK OF SORROW

Claudia Llosa's THE MILK OF SORROW (La teta asustada) -- a wonderfully rich and meaningful title -- was one of the five nominees for this past year's Best Foreign-Language Film (it comes to us via Peru).  That it did not win, given the Academy's Best Foreign-Language Film history, is no surprise. That it was nominated at all is encouraging. I first saw it almost one full year

ago, during the FSLC's yearly LatinBeat festival of Latin American movies.  And while it did not fully work for me at the time as a sustained piece of movie-making, neither has it left my mind for long, seemingly storing itself in some dark, back corner of my brain and popping up now and again -- which means, I would guess that this film is something of a "keeper."

What does stuffing one's own vagina with a potato indicate about the stuffer? Writer/
director Llosa (shown at left) tells us some facts, in chunks of exposition, but indicates more via the alternately withdrawn and florid performance of Magaly Solier (on the poster, top, and below), whose beauty steals men's hearts (as well as this viewer's) even as her bizarre behavior quickly pushes most of them (and us) away.

For one thing, that potato pretty well prevents coitus, which is certainly the original intent -- and which the character, Fausta, has learned from her mother (the two are shown two photos below) who was raped repeatedly back in the bad old days of Peru. We north-westerners know a bit about Chile under Pinochet and Argentina's "disappeared," but of Peru's dictatorial history, not so much. We won't learn a lot here, either, but the bits and pieces we pick up from the film will give us, at least, an idea.

The potato also represents a symbolic barrier -- to intimacy, friendship, feelings and more. As it grows its finger-like, projectile eyes, as a doctor in the film so ingratiatingly explains, it infects its host, sickening and weakening her. Holding on to the past, as we are later told, is not healthy. But after growing up with a mom like Fausta's, it could indeed be a little difficult to let go.

The Milk of Sorrow begins with some lovely singing: melodius music set to nasty lyrics that lay out the sorry events of the past. These songs fill the film, off and on, and are sung by Ms Solier, sometimes to herself, later to the bizarre, antisocial musician (shown below, left) who hires the girl to work in her home. This place of respite for Fausta, splendidly livable, is condoned off behind a wall in the midst of the throbbing life of the town.

Llosa's movie is filled with wonderful images, oddly but beautifully framed. The splendid cinematography is by -- yep -- Natasha Braier, the woman responsible for some of the best and most varied work we've seen over the past few years: In the City of Sylvia, Glue, XXY, Somers Town. (Some day, before he croaks, TrustMovies hopes to get an interview with this woman to learn a bit about how she does it!) Weddings are front and center in the movie, perhaps a tad too much so, which underscores the "clunk" factor but at least provides some interesting visuals (see below).

Familiar things -- the weddings, as well as pearls and swimming pools -- end up seeming quite singular here. But with fear of rape as the motor that drives one's life, why not? The Milk of Sorrow, symbolic, slow-moving and beautiful, does not quite coalesce, and the ending, by any standard, seems too pat. But for the work of its star Magaly Solier and Ms Braier, I would gladly see it again. Solier, by the way, is also the star of last week's debut Altiplano, in which she plays a much stronger character, though one who is equally troubled.  This actress is no only a stunning sight to see; she also possesses remarkable strength and the ability, especially in Altiplano, to say very little very quietly, while seeming to be heard around the world.

The Milk of Sorrow, from Olive Films, opens this Friday, August 27, in New York City at the Cinema Village; at Laemmle's Music Hall 3 in Los Angeles on September 3; and at the Tower Theatre in Miami on September 10.

The all-conquering beauty of ALTIPLANO, an odd concoction of Brosens & Woodworth

Utterly compelling in its encompassing beauty and design, if not its fractured storytelling, ALTIPLANO will strike you, I suspect, as a memorable movie despite some faults that go hand-in-hand with the film's conception and execution.  Beginning with a strange but fascinating religious ceremony in the mountains of Peru  -- it looks half Catholic/half pagan and must be some native adaptation of Christianity -- in which an idol is accidentally smashed, the movie moves immediately to the middle east and to a terrorist/hostage/
photo-op situation and then to a family gathering and grieving amidst some lush greenery and gorgeous European architecture.

Our filmmakers are Peter Brosens (shown at extreme right) and Jessica Woodworth (near right), a duo who, back in 2006, gave us the Mongolian classic Khadak, comparisons to which are apt. While their camera and the people they observe generally move at a measured pace (even in the scene of middle-eastern terror), we are still quickly thrust into three very different landscapes and situations that we soon perceive to be somehow linked.

This slow pacing is both hypnotic and unsettling, while the photog-
raphy here is beautiful and compelling, due to its exquisite compo-
sition and its use of color and light (at times reminiscent of the "old masters") -- as befits a film in which  "images" (religious and otherwise) are all-important.  These include not just the brilliant view of the ceremony that begins the movie (shown just below),

or the forced photograph taken in the middle east, which causes its photographer to put away her camera for good, but also the video letters home from a lonely husband to his wife (below) and the framed photographs (two photos above) of the dead Peruvian native population, martyred to the mercury that is at the heart of the film.

About one-half-hour into the movie we finally see this beautiful and terrible killer -- the mercury spilled by the mining company that excavates the nearby mountains -- that will somehow unite our little group in death. Connected by this lovely, deadly substance unlike any other (the first shot we see of it is stunning) is an Andean Indian family: mother, son, daughter (Magaly Solier, shown on poster at top and two photos below, star of The Milk of Sorrow) and the daughter's fiancé; the war photographer (Jasmin Tabatabai, above and below, left) grieving over the very ill-use of her trigger finger; and her husband (Olivier Gourmet, below, right, the Belgian go-to guy for just about any role), who here becomes an eye doctor working in a nearby area of the Andes to that in which our Indian family resides.


As it goes along, the film and its images become increasingly symbolic -- and rightfully so.  Reality, as most of us know it, has been left far behind.  But as the images --- such as the clothes of a dead man burning on a rock (shown at bottom) -- are often as strange as they are riveting, the viewer eventually lets go of conventional habits of mind and eye.  And as for theatrical death scenes, Altipano offers one that would do Shakespeare proud.  And yet, as it turns out, this death is absolutely meant to be theatrical.

Even so, I do wish that the filmmakers had parsed their plot a bit more carefully.  A pivotal scene rests upon the native population, so angry at the constant deaths of their loved ones, that they blame the guiltless eye doctors, wreaking unnecessary havoc and death (below).  The very next time we see these natives, they seem to have a complete understanding of the entire situation, from the mercury that is killing them to the responsibility of the mining company.  "Indians and mines: It's a very old problem," a policeman that our photographer meets on a bus explains to her. Wow: that was fast and convenient!

"Without an image, there is no story," one character tells us.  Altiplano is a film blessed with a plethora of wonderful images, many of which will probably remain soldered on your brain.  In the press information for the film, the movie-makers explain that they made it with a Peruvian audience in mind, as Khadak was made first for the Mongolian audience.  This is understandable and admirable, too.  It worked better with Khadak, however, because so much of that film was mysterious and foreign culturally, that we could more easily sit back and let it wash over us.  

Altiplano takes in the environment and its despoiling by industry and includes incidents we've read or heard about and so seems particularly timely, immediate and understandable in some ways. This has the effect of making it less mysterious, but more proble-

matic, no matter how beautiful and symbolic its images may be.

The film opens via First Run Features this Friday August 20, at New York City's Village East Cinemas. For further scheduled playdates, cities and theaters, simply click here.