Emiliano Rocha Minter's WE ARE THE FLESH further pushes the sex-and-violence envelope

Were it not for the use of the same time- and place-setting word -- twice -- in the press material describing this new movie from Mexican filmmaker Emiliano Rocha Minter, viewers like me might not be so easily taken in by WE ARE THE FLESH. God knows, the filmmaker himself never uses this highly descriptive phrase. He proves much too canny for that. He simply shows us a very grungy, dirty, crazy-looking enclosed space, then lets our imagination do the rest. Into this space an even crazier-looking man unloads his heavy cardboard burden and then begins preparing what might be the least appetizing meal ever captured on film.

Señor Rocha Minter, shown at right, would have us wondering "Where the hell are we?" And were it not for that all-purpose/oft-seen-and-heard phrase which we reviewers were sent and that quite dutifully and immediately fills in all the blanks, we might still be wondering. I will not use that phrase in my review and will hope that you don't get wind of it elsewhere, because it simply makes things way too easy. Despite its use, the filmmaker does provide some clues that indicate that something other may be happening. For instance, where in hell do those eggs come from? Wouldn't their continuing existence indicate chickens, too?

Into the environment of our weird but rather sexy little hermit (nice job by Noé Hernández, bearded above then post-corpse clean-shaven below) comes a pair of siblings who explain that they have been wandering the city for days and are very hungry. (The duo is played by María Evoli, at right, two photos below, and Diego Gamaliel, at left). Our oddball host feeds them and almost simultaneously begins feeding them a line of bullshit about all barriers having now been broken so we can give in to our darkest impulses, especially those involving sex or violence.

Before you can say incest, sis is sucking on bro and bro is fucking sis. And yes, this is all viewed hard-core style. (I did mention envelope-pushing in my headline, right?)  And, as our hermit watches all this while jacking off, we get a nice dose of double voyeurism, to boot.

Further, our host appears to have a heart attack while climaxing (the "little death" leads to the big one: shades of John Garfield!), but before long he is back again and weirder than ever, taking the threesome into murder, cannibalism and goodness knows what else.

The film's pivotal scene -- and maybe its best: it's as oddly moving as it is grizzly -- involves a military man, kidnapped and sacrificed for his blood and body. This leads to an orgy and the appearance of many more people than we've so far seen, and then to an ending that changes everything.

Rocha Minter's clever sleight-of-hand is the most impressive thing about the film. Though it is full of darkness and occasional bright shards of light (as below), it also offers some visual oddities like the major sex scene (done via rather needless and artsy posterization effect), plus a moment or two that capture our "heroine's" face in a singular manner (above), and unusual shots of a vagina and penis/scrotum, all at rest.

The orgy finale, which looks something like a particularly bad night at the old Studio 54, is followed by that game-changing denouement. And if this is not quite enough to lift We Are the Flesh into horny-porn greatness, it will at least leave those viewers who've stuck around for the duration a few things to mull over. And, yes, you could call this a "mixed review."

Being released in a dozen or so cities across the U.S. via Arrow Films -- unrated, I would images, due to its hard-core scenes -- the movie opens in Los Angeles at Laemmle's Arhya Fine Arts this Friday, January 13, and in New York City on January 20 at the Cinema Village. Elsewhere? Yes: It will also open for weeklong runs in Texas (in Laredo and San Antonio) on January 13, in Denver and New Orleans on January 20, and in San Francisco, Pittsburgh and Columbus on January 27. Special screenings throughout January and February include El Paso, Houston, Phoenix, Cleveland, Portland (Oregon) and Albuquerque. 

Maxi chills with minimum special effects: Adrián García Bogliano's scary HERE COMES THE DEVIL

What is most surprising about HERE COMES THE DEVIL (Ahí va el diablo), the Mexican horror-thriller from writer/director Adrián García Bogliano, is how many strong, off-handed chills it can deliver using nary a special effect. (It's when the filmmaker starts using these that the movie begins to lose steam, but that's another story.) Bogliano's tale is full of religion, along with old-fashioned, Catholic right-and-wrong, and it carries a mile-wide moralistic streak down its back. Yet none of this is hammered home. Rather, it is presented in increments in which characters carry on doing the wrong stuff, after which they pay dearly for it. And we begin to see... maybe a connection?

The film opens with some hot girl-on-girl action, for which -- yep -- retribu-tion is soon demanded in spades. Then a married couple uses the opportu-nity of being child-free for an hour to enjoy a bout of in-the-car sex, along with some dirty talk regarding their former promiscuous couplings. Ooooops: There go the kids. Turns out there are some very nasty demonic "spirits" residing in the hills around the area where all this takes place, and those spirits really do want to join the general populace. You might think of Boglianao's movie (the director is shown above) as a zombie film, but one whose living dead are remarkably staid and not particularly hungry creatures.

From the outset, the movie offers a terrific sense of unease that carries it along quite well for more than half of its slightly overlong, 98-minute running time.

The one hugely violent and bloody scene in the movie manages to work on  two levels -- moving the plot along, as well as making us concerned about what has happened (and why) to our two adults, as well as to their two children.

Performances by the actors who play mom and dad -- they are the movie's real stars: those initial lesbian ladies simply act as jerk-you-to-attention filler --  Laura Caro and Francisco Barreiro (here seen showering after some very nasty business has taken place) are low-key and surprisingly believable, at least until the weird stuff starts happening.

Even then the film doesn't go crazy for effects: lights go on and off, noises sound, and this works just fine. Which does make me question why Bogliano felt he needed to toss in levitation (above) and those phony-looking Diabolique white eyes (below) to spice things up. These are so cliched by now -- and the filmmaker had so nicely avoided this kind of thing -- that they bring the movie down rather than goose it up.

Still, Bogliano keeps some good stuff for his finale and its dark denouement, which has a smart sense of humor, even as it leaves you thoroughly chilled. And then -- my goodness! -- it is suddenly clear that these demons must have missed their course in Driver's Training.

Here Comes the Devil, coming to us via Magnet Releasing, opens this Friday, December 13, in New York City at the Cinema Village and in L.A. at the Sundance Sunset Cinemas, after which it opens in four more cities over the next few weeks. You can see all currently scheduled playdates by clicking here. Note, too, that the film will simultaneously be available on VOD and iTunes, so folk all around the U.S. can take a look and shiver accordingly.

Michael Rowe's LEAP YEAR: a difficult and challenging look at an S&M relationship

When we first see Laura, the full-bodied if a bit dowdy young women at the center of LEAP YEAR (Año bisiesto), she seems an odd choice for the lead character in a film about an unusual sexual relationship. She appears to work as some sort of "reporter," has an oddly distant phone relationship with her mother, is quite close to her brother, enjoys looking surreptitiously down at her elderly neighbors' patio and -- as we soon learn -- is given to relatively anonymous one-night-stands with men whom she brings home after tarting herself up for an evening out.

The film's director and co-writer (with Lucia Carreras), Michael Rowe, is shown at left. Even as a bottle-blond, he looks darkly handsome enough to have been an actor, but evidently he chose film-making instead. Leap Year, his first endeavor, is by any standard a very good movie. Its subject matter (a sexual affair that turns heavily sadistic/masochistic) and its visual handling of that subject matter (full-frontal, no holds barred) almost guaran-tees that the film will cause attention and create a buzz. And yet Rowe's storytelling style -- carefully obser-ved and quietly told -- helps makes even the heavy-duty sex scenes surprisingly real and, most important, deeply, genuinely (and often uncomfortably) "felt."

By the end of Leap Year (the film takes place in that special year -- about one in every four -- in which an extra day is added to the month of February), Mr. Rowe has brought us up close to his character, Laura (above and below), about as intimately as we could hope. And not just to Laura herself, but to her family -- only one of whom, her beloved brother, we actually meet.

We meet a few of her sex objects, too, but it is not until the third or fourth one comes upon the scene (maybe a half-hour into things) that one of her "men" actually sticks around. This is due to the quietly growing allure of s&m, the former for her new man, Arturo, and the latter for Laura herself. (Yes, those are cigarette burns, below, on her breasts.)

Leap Year is one of the most sexually arousing movies I have seen -- up to a point. Once the s&M begins, not being into that, I usually turn off. Yet the gift that Mr. Rowe's film bestows is to allow us to enter that world and understand it at least well enough to accept it -- on screen and for now -- without running for the nearest exit.

Laura's character achieves a surprising fullness, thanks to the filmmakers' skills and to that of his leading lady  Monica del Carmen. Ms del Carmen, above and above, brings us up so close to the details of Laura's life and to her needs and desires, that we go right along with it all, up until...  This actress also gives one of the most arousing performances, sexually speaking, that I have ever seen. Clothed, she's perfectly presentable (except perhaps when seen picking her nose); unclothed and in heat, she is simply extraordinary. She lets down not just the nudity barrier, but the one that usually covers the soul.

Likewise, in the role of her new paramour, Gustavo Sánchez Parra (above) from La misma luna, My Mexican Shivah and Casi divas) maintains just the right balance of secrecy combined with a yearning for intimacy. As crazy sexually as these two get, they never lose their humanity. Consequently, we want the best for them, even as we live in fear of what that "best" might be.

By the finale, the suspense has reached major proportions, as we cushion ourselves for the worst. (Or is it the best? You'd have to be very masochistic to welcome this.)  And yet we never let go of our caring for this pair. Which is a major accomplishment, I think, on the part of Rowe, who quietly takes us deep into dysfunctional-family territory, in one of the subtlest ways I have seen handled in a movie to date.

Leap Year (which is not to be confused with that Amy Adams/Matthew Goode movie of the same name, also made in 2010), from Strand Releasing, in Spanish with English subtitles, opens tomorrow, Friday, June 24, in New York City at the Cinema Village. And elsewhere, soon,  I hope.

Sibling sex: DANIEL & ANA from Michel Franco, makes NYC debut at Quad Cinema

Breaking a taboo is one thing. Being forced to break it -- at gunpoint with your and your family's lives threatened --  is quite another, the result of which we see played out in DANIEL & ANA, the Cannes' Directors Fortnight selection now making its theatrical debut. Written and directed by Michel Franco (shown below: a Mexican movie-maker whose first full-length film this is) this short work (only 90 minutes including rather lengthy end credits) is disturbing, all right. How could it not be, given the central event, which is, we are told, based on a true story in which only the names have been changed?

Mexico, certainly one of the kidnap capitals of the world, plays host to this story and its lead characters: the contented and close-knit brother and sister of the title.  Daniel's a high school student, on the cusp of young manhood, while Ana is several years older and about to be married.  Their family is part of Mexico's haute bourgeiosie -- those "haves" who have the most -- and Ana is about to marry into more of the same. Señor Franco lays all this out non-judgmentally. In fact, the siblings' kidnappers, shown below, don't look too shabby, either, and so the rather enormous "class differences" we often see and hear about in Mexico are certainly not being hammered home in undue fashion. What happens here is all just "business," dontcha know.

TrustMovies apologizes for giving away more of the plot than he usually profers. All of the above, in any case, is on view within the first 20 minutes. And while the signal event of the film is certainly vital, how the characters react to it -- and why -- is key to our coming to terms with the movie. It's here that Franco stumbles rather severely.

The filmmaker allows us to watch the entire sex scene, which is handled about as chastely as possible, considering the nature of the "crime."  (Perhaps a little too chastely, where our pivotal view of Daniel is concerned.)   You won't accuse Franco of pandering, necessarily, but then you wait -- post-sex, and then post-release of the victims -- for that all-important scene of their pair's first connection/conversation after the fact.  It never happens.  So very much would spring from the way in which the older of the two handles (or is unable to handle) her younger brother in this terribly fraught time that the audience deserves to be a part of this. But Franco, being I guess a very untutored filmmaker, doesn't bother with this pivotal scene at all.

Sure, we see later reactions -- from the siblings, her fiancé, his girlfriend, their parents -- but everything from here on in, even a surprise or two, seems a little too rote because the most important moments in the movie have been left out. (Even if no communication happened immediately post-release, we need to see that in order to better understand.)

The performances are as good as the script and direction allow. Marimar Vega (shown above, with Chema Torre, who plays her soon-to-be husband) exhibits poise and the necessary maturity to handle not only the event itself, but its terrible follow-up, while Darío Yazbek Bernal (shown below, who is Gabriel Garcia's half-brother), bearing more than a passing resemblance to a younger James Franco, is a basket case of depession and fear as the younger participant who cannot get out from under his guilt. (Does he realize that what happened might be, on some level, exactly what he wanted?)

There are other problems with the film. The music, with its beautiful, dirge-like score, begins to be quite unhelpful -- used, as it is, in place of more fitting dialog or better visuals in order to up the movie's sadness quotient. Someone must have realized that this was not working properly, however, because after the first few uses, music pretty much disappears for the remainder of the film.

I can't write off the movie completely, though. There is enough strength in the situation and performances to make it worth the time of anyone who has in any way been connected to this vile experience or who is concerned with the sale of forced pornography (the end title cards give some information on this), or for therapists who may end up treating those who've been involved in this kind of situation.

Daniel & Ana, from Strand Releasing, opens Friday, August 27, at New York City's Quad Cinema.

Pedro González-Rubio's ALAMAR is a watery, elemental, one-of-a-kind delight; Q&A with the filmmaker

Such a pleasant, unusual surprise (in so many ways), ALAMAR (which means "to the sea") is a near-impossible movie not to recommend: an odd combination of documentary and narrative in which the story is "made-up" yet almost everything we see is real, happening in real time and as it would in real life. Plus, the "actors" play their real-life counterparts.  The creator of all this, Pedro González-Rubio, has made only two other movies -- a dark, unreleased documentary called Toro Negro (more about this in the interview below) and The Making of BABEL (yes: one of those "making of" movies about that Brad Pitt film).  With this new work, the filmmaker has delivered a neither-fish-nor-fowl film that manages to both swim and soar.

A couple has recently split in a town near the Mexican coast.  He's a native, she's European.  Before the mother and son leave the country, perhaps for good, the boy, who appears to be somewhere between 6 and 8 years old is taken by his father (with mom's permission) to spend some time in his grandfather's shack on the sea and learn how gramps makes a living and how life is lived quite differently in this unusual environment.  That's it.  The film is 73 minutes long, there's not a wasted moment, yet so much life, love, symbolism, change and possibility is packed into its short running time so beautifully and well that González-Rubio (shown above) has created a sui generis movie.  A wonderfully generous one, too.

The director's style is definitely documentary.  Featuring almost no exposition, the camera tracks moment-to-moment activities so well that we sometimes grow concerned.  The little boy is meandering in waters that contain not just fish but crocodiles, above, and he's often warned to stay out of their way. Likewise, a fabulous white bird, below, whom dad calls "Blanquita," comes into their life and is coaxed, haltingly, into a kind of relationship.

The grandfather, Nestór Marín (below), is a man of few words (whom does he usually have to talk to?) but proves a good, loving teacher to both his son and grandson.  And the father, a remarkably photogenic and exotic-looking man, proves someone the camera clearly loves (the audience will, too). Mom gets short-shrifted, but then, she's not part of this male-bonding trip.

The location itself -- the sea (see the color of that water, below!) and surrounding land with all the flora and fauna -- could not be more beautiful.  When, early on, after the arrival of father and son, some building, painting and refurbishing takes place on the boathouse that will be home for the three, a small window is constructed that opens out onto the sea.  At the moment that tiny portal first swings wide, the word ALAMAR appears in the center of its ocean view, presenting us with, not only the film's title but a gentle reminder that "this is just a movie."  Yet before this moment, and after, for the rest of its running time, this film is so much more.

Alamar, released in the U.S. by Film Movement, opens for a one-week-only run in New York City at Film Forum.  You can find other playdates here (click and scroll down).  Once word gets out about this remarkable movie, I should think there will be many more venues added.

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TrustMovies met with Pedro González-Rubio a few months back in the Manhattan offices of the film's U.S. distributor Film Movement. Exceedingly friendly and happy to talk about many different things, the filmmaker proved as delightful an interview as his film is a movie. His answers appear in standard typeface below, while our questions are in boldface.

There’s a scene in the movie where someone mentions “rubio.” Were they taking about the little boy, who looks sort of "blond" at that moment in the movie? Or were they talking about you?

Rubio…? I don’t know…
.
It happens on the boat, I think…

Oh! Yes, Rubia! They are talking about a fish. That is how they name a fish. A Rubia is like a “snapper”.

Ah. Now I get it. So, how many hours of film did you actually shoot for this movie?

About 35 hours.

That’s not that much?  Is it?

Not compared to previous work. I remember that I did one where I shot 200 hours. It was The Making of Babel.

The Brad Pitt movie. You did the “making of” part?

Yes, and it was feature-length: one hour and a half. So there were 200 hours because we had to be on the set every day.

So 35 hours was all you shot on Alamar!  And you dedicated it to your grandfather....

Yes, because my grandfather was a filmmaker.  He even worked here in the States and directed Anthony Perkins. It is not easy to get hold of that film – it is called The Fool Killer.  More than a western. It was sort of a… Midwestern.

Do you remember the young woman who was in it? 

I just remember it about the guy and the boy. This was when Anthony Perkins was really …  it was after he had done Psycho.

He was really on top of his career back then.  What was your grandfather’s name?

Servando González. Gonzales-Rubio is from my father‘s sirname. My grandfather had done his first feature film, Yanco, about an old man who plays the violin, which he passes on to a kid. The townspeople have never heard this sound before, and when they do, they hear it in the night, so they think it is the devil.

This was his first film?

Yes, his first, and it was very difficult for him to get the film out, for people to see it, and he had very few resources. At that time there were very strong syndicates – one for the film making crew -- and the director’s syndicate. Because he did not belong to the director’s syndicate, they did not want him to show this film. They wanted to burn it. It is similar to what happened to the boy in the film.

The Fool Killer was not a big success over here, I think.

No, but my grandfather did not speak English.

Then how did he get to make the film?

His Amercian producer has seen Yanco. He was from New York. He said, "I want this director to do this film."

So things like that happened way back then, too.

Yes! It’s crazy but his producer insisted that he do it, even though he did not speak English. But now his grandson does speak English!

And is making movies -- and very well, too! Where are you actually from?

From Mexico City. But then I did, like, two trips in total to make the film -- to this second biggest coral reef in the world and the biggest one in Mexico. But, you know, this place is in danger of physically disappearing. Because of all the different interests that are present in this area.

(We talk a bit about Margot Benacerraf's Araya with its stunning photography – which González-Rubio has not seen -- and I Am Cuba – which he says has the most stunning photography ever -- from the same director of photography, Sergei Urusevsky, who did The Cranes Are Flying. I have not seen that one, and so we both agree to watch each film.) 

Your leading man is one of the most beautiful, strange, stunning and interesting men I have seen on film. Like a force of nature. Almost otherworldy, at least from a different world that any of us here in the city would have seen.

Yes.

And your film, which almost seems like a documentary, it not at all a doc. But rather a narrative film. It seems to constantly fudge the line between the two. Where did you get the idea for this film?  And does a situation like we see here actually exist wthin a couple – where the two people are SO very different?

Yes, their situation does exist and quite often. In Playa del Campo there is this mix of races.

The racial mix might be a little unusual, but these two people: How did they meet, how did they bond? We don’t see any of that.

They met because she was a tourist there, and then she stayed to live there. This often happens in this area.  She still lives there in Playa del Campo, but they separated and so she lives further down in the south.

Is that where we see her with the boy at the end?

No, we see her in Rome.

Ah… So he may never see his father again. So this is important for the father to pass on his knowledge, like a blueprint for the kid so he will know who he is when he grows up.

There are different levels. With the father it is not like he lives in that location, but he comes there sometimes. So this is voyage for the young man to remember, the kid to learn and the older man, the grandfather, to pass it on. It is like the three generations, three stages of man.

You give us almost no expostion, and you must have done this deliberately, so we must watch and learn as we go along.

Rather than giving any conventional narrative, I wanted this film to be able to be experienced via the sensations. To be more organic and to focus on the characters rather than on a story. But the problems… The problems, the crises are in us, after we walk out of the theater, so for the hour and fifteen minutes, we live with them and learn. In a kind of utopia.

Yes, it is a utopia. Kind of.

I wanted to do something that would transport us back to the senations that we had, the sense of discovery, when we were younger.

And you succeeded in that, I think.  What else have you done before this?

I did a documentary called Toro Negro. It was screened here in NYC at the Two Boots Pioneer Theater.

Yes! Which is not here anymore.

Really?

Yes. It’s gone now. It was such a charming little theater. And I loved that name!

Too bad.  And I also did The Making of Babel – which took two years to complete.  I co-directed both of the other two, but this one is all my direction. So here in this one I also did the editing, as I did in the other ones.

So you did the writing, directing, editing and cinematography?!

Yes – except the underwater cinematography. The crew was just two of us: boom operation and myself and that was it. It was a very organic film, and we did all the activites with the characters. I did the cooking; we were like a family. The location you see in the movie was also our five-star hotrel. And it was our catering facility, too!

What did this whole thing cost?

Very little to film. I could finance it myself. But for post-production, that is whre the cost comes – like any film. To do the color correction, sound design, music and then bring it up to 35mm, We shot it on HDV and then blew it up to 35.

Where did you find the actor who plays the father?

He lives in Touloon which is south of Playa del Carmen, where I live. And he is a bird-watching guy – a self-made ornothologist. That is why, when the bird arrived, he already had the touch. His passion is birds. Even the man’s features – he is like an eagle in a way – his eyes!

Does this guy want to act again, to do another film?

I don't know, but he should!

Did you pay your actors?

Yes. We paid some while we were filming, then something when we finished, but I still have more to pay them.

What festivals have you been to?

The Rotterdam and the Berlinale -- in the Generation Section – which is for children's films.  So this movie seems very universal and with a broad range of audience.

I would not call it just a children's film because it makes such as impression on adults, too. Has it been picked up for release by other countries?

Yes, and this took us by surprise.  All the territories have been sold. And all this happened because of the sale agency that took it on: MK2.

Martin Karmitz?!  That means France picked it up.  

Yes and the UK and Poland and Spain... 

Well, your movie does not compare closely to anything else I can think of.  It fuses documentary style and narrative, and it does this in such a way that it honors both formats.  And it doesn't make you feel queasy, uneasy, about the truthfulness there.  The way that some filmmakers handle their subjects.

They're going in and interfereing and not being respectful.  That was the trouble with my first film, Toro Negro.  it was about a young 21-year-old, alcoholoic bullfight who has no success at all. He comes from the streets and was abandonded at age 11.

Very depressing.

Yes, and it is not like anything that has been seen about bullfighting. 

Is that maybe why it did not get any distribution?

Maybe. This is what happened with Toro Negro, my first film: It was a very harsh documentary. Too harsh.. Not like what you know from the usual bullfighting movie.  No big arena, where the bullfighters are considered like rock stars. This is the real, harsh, ramshackle bullfighting. It takes place in very poor area. And the documentary explored the inner life of the protagonist, with all the domestic violence – and not talking heads but the real thing. For me as a filmmaker, I did not feel any identification with my subject.  So this time I wanted to explore the other side of the coin – love. So Alamar, instead of being about frustration and hatred is about freedom and love. The ying and yang.

How old are you, Pedro?

33.

Oh-- you look so much younger than that! Are you married? Family? 

No.

Is there anything else you’d like to talk about that you have not covered here today?

Oooh, yeah –plenty! Many, many things! But that will be for next time. Actually it is all there in the film. There are even many symbols that are there and that reflect my philosophy.

It’s amazing: You really have packed so much into this 73 minute film.  Oh—I do have a last question: What are you doing next?

I know it is going to be a combination of both universes: the good and the devil, the loving and hating – and then this purifying voyage of self-discovery.

Do you have a title yet?

No, but my leading character is Russian. So he is very intense.

Yes, very intense and troubled, I'll bet. Russia is such a strange country. I've never been there -- but just looking at its history. Constantly being under the thumb of, first the Czars, and then the Commusnists, and now the Captialists.

And the Mafia. It is crazy!

We get the high sign to end the conversation, 

so we thank each other for the time -- 

and for such an interesting interview.