Hacia el sur

Everyone despises male sex tourism. But there also is a female counterpart. This movie tells about middle-aged women, going to Haiti in the 70s. They give the native boys presents and get sex instead.

But that's not the whole truth. This is also about love tourism, because obviously these women have serious crushes on particularly one boy.

Is it just another form of imperialism or is it more complex? Why do we somehow pity these women, while we're condemning men in the same situation? This movie puts questions you didn't want to hear and turns things around.

I know a lot Americans guys travel to Thailand for young girls, and a lot German guys travel to Hungry for young boys. But I never know that sex tourism also include middle aged white women going to Haiti in the 70s for young black guys. That's a story a new film "Heading South" (Vers le sud) is telling.

Three mid-aged North American women (two Americans and one Canadian) went to Haiti for summer vacation in the 70s, soaking in the sun and their desire for beautiful young Haitian boys. They have what those boys don't have: money and social status. The boys have what the ladies don't have: their youth and bodies. When two of the three ladies want the same handsome 18 years old Legba, the vacation is over.

This is an excellent film. I love this film for its brutal honesty, its originality, its thought provoking subject, and its terrific performance. Money liberates these ladies' sexuality, but can money buy love that they really desire for? Isn't it interesting that these ladies wouldn't lay their eyes on a black guy back home, but they are lusting after these young men in the poorest country? What made the connection between them here in Haiti?

I just saw the US premier at the American Museum of Moving Image last night [10/20/05]. Cantet and co. interweave three short stories by Haitian writer Dany Laferriere (not yet translated into English from French as of 10/21/05). Though the scope and themes of the stories differ considerably, "Vers Le Sud" is as shattering and masterful as Cantet's previous feature, "Time Out," and should similarly be talked about for years to come.

Cantet and cinematographer Pierre Milon have shot many incredibly complex emotional exchanges without relying on any obvious dialogue. Their confidence that it would cut together and 'play' so well on screen must be partially due to Cantet's having a co-writer who is also the editor (Robin Campillo). The story is told through subtle reactions, gestures and intonations ala "Time Out," but Vers's dialogue seems both more plentiful and more emotionally transparent.

"Vers" also contains more characters, incidents, and a more complex thematic scope than "Time Out." Where "Time" explored a single character's relation to work, pride, and masculinity, "Vers" explores 3 middle-aged white women's sexual and romantic desire for a teenage Haitian, black male prostitute. Cantet explores the central situation's inherent political, racial, sexual, emotional and age-related issues-- often in the same scene.

In doing so, Cantet / LaFerriere necessarily broach a number of taboo subjects: middle age women being openly sexual on screen, and being sexual with teenagers; women paying male prostitutes; white women with black men; women as one discarded, ignored caste, hooking up with another discarded, ignored caste (3rd world men of color); women giving sexual desire the same primacy in their lives as men traditionally have; the world's richest bedding the world's poorest; the willful blindness of the rich towards the suffering of the poor or foreign; American economic imperialism; the predatory nature of consumerist tourism.

In exploring these issues, Vers provokes a sense of moral/political outrage on par with the very angry, very moving "The Constant Gardener." The tourist women of "Vers" turn a willfully blind eye to the dire political / economic situation that drives vulnerable young men into their beds. To watch these women do this is infuriating; their desire becomes repellent, exploitative.

But at the same moment, we are also made to feel how touchingly human these women's needs are-- for love (Brenda), sex (Ellen) and affection (Sue). We experience their loneliness as achingly poignant, even tragic. During the Q&A, one middle-aged woman in the audience referred to the film as pro-feminist in its emotional honesty, and I agree.

The women's relations with their gigolos appear to be emotional two-way streets, albeit with a much wider lane for the Northerners. The women and young men do share affection; and it isn't hard to understand how the women could fool themselves into believing in the possibility of real love blossoming in these tropical, permissive environs.

But when disagreement or insecurity arises with the gigolos, the women's economic superiority gives them the final word. That the same characters in the same scene can simultaneously evoke nausea and tenderness is a testament to the skills of all involved.

The film feels very French in its tasteful restraint -- the sex is never shown -- and in the way it explores its politically charged themes largely through male/female relationships. The film therefore plays entirely as human drama, and never feels sensationalistic, didactic, or titillating.

I had a few *minor* quibbles with this great film. The performances of actors playing Ellen, Albert and Legba were pitch-perfect. But there were moments in Brenda and Sue's scenes when I felt them 'Acting'-- whether this is attributable to lapses in writing, acting, directing or editing is impossible to know. I enjoyed the monologues, delivered into the camera, but I thought they would have felt less artificial if another character had been written into the rooms with them, for the character to address. I also felt it lasted 1 or 2 scenes longer than necessary in the end.

Some have argued that the film should included more of Legba's perspective, but I disagree. Given the sensitivity of the film as a whole, the nationality of the original short story writer (Haitian), and in conveying Legba's emotions in particular, I'm sure that the storytellers made a conscious decision not to include more of Legba's perspective, and the film's structure is the stronger for it.

In fact, the film could only have been created by a group of artists working at the top of their form. Like "Time Out," there will not be a more complex film than Vers Le Sud this year (and I include my other art-house favorites 2046, Head-On, Last Days, Broken Flowers, Brown Bunny, The New World, and yes, Kung Fu Hustle). Here's hoping Vers gets a proper distribution.

Taking us places we've never been before is one of the excellent ways cinema tells artistic stories. HEADING SOUTH deserves much credit for this aspect.

Rarely (if ever) do we see the darker side of female sexuality, and this is explored in minute detail in the film. But the message doesn't stop there. We also see the up- and ultimate downside of Western culture on a society struggling with its own identity; in this case, Haiti.

Haiti is the poorest nation in this hemisphere, not to mention riddled with an AIDS epidemic and a militaristic government. This comes into stark contrast as we watch Brenda (Karen Young) exit a plane in Port au Prince and walk between the desperate homeless and the gun-toting military. She is quickly whisked away from this ugliness and into an idyllic beach resort by its owner, Frank (Guiteau Nestant). Here she meets up with two other "civilized" women vacationers, Ellen (Charlotte Rampling) and Sue (Louise Portal, who has only the slightest role in the flick). They strike up an interesting if antagonistic relationship, especially whenever they're around the lithe and beautiful Legba (Menothy Cesar), a male prostitute of sorts who "services" the ladies of the resort. Yet much more is going on (and has gone on).

Brenda (a white woman from the States) first met Legba years before and experienced her first orgasm with him ...when she was 45; and he was only fifteen. Because we're in Haiti, though, pedofilia doesn't apply. The laws tend to be lax in that aspect. Brenda explains her first sexual encounter with Legba in brutally interesting terms (using words such as "threw myself" and "animal"). We also witness Ellen's attraction to Legba, which also goes deep (no pun intended). Brenda is 55 years old and knows she's on the downside of her sexual identity with men her own age, so seeks out a distant yet physically fulfilling relationship with Legba, too. Trouble is, though, is that both Ellen and Brenda find themselves more than just physically attracted to Legba. Brenda has no qualms about her feelings, and all but plants herself in his lap whenever she can. But Ellen tries to be more aloof, feigning disinterest in anything beyond physical desire (aka lying to herself). Brenda can see that Ellen wants Legba just as badly as she, and so bitter sparks fly amongst them.

But in the midst of these two battling and somewhat selfish women is Legba himself. Born into poverty, he finds himself trapped between the old Haiti and the possibility of a new life with one of the women from the resort (note: Legba is black, in case you didn't realize that). But relationship ties with his mother and an old flame flicker in his mind, holding him back, and threatening his very existence at important crossroads in the story. He's also more outspoken than most of his other male counterparts at the resort, and tells the women exactly what he thinks ("You look old like that"). This endears him even more to the summer visitors.

Life in Haiti is often vicious and fleeting, and this is brought home to the viewer when we watch Legba being chased through Port au Prince by a gun-wielding madman after someone sees him escorting a white woman around the city (Brenda). Nothing good can come from a relationship with these infrequent guests unless he can get off the island. But can he? Is he willing to let go of his homeland and his family in order to just survive in a distant world? Director Laurent Cantet gives us a very good character study while enveloping it in the political strife surrounding Haiti. But the film's pacing is exceptionally slow and male viewers may very well be turned off by the subject matter. Although female pedofilia does exist, it isn't nearly as rampant as the male version. And men may have a better sense of the separation between sex and love (this is a broad distinction, though, and may only hold true in a Mars Versus Venus sense).

Still, the story is interesting enough thanks to some great acting on the part of old-time sex symbol Charlotte Rampling (FAREWLL, MY LOVELY, 1975), and the first-time role of Menothy Cesar as the unforgettable Legba.

Laurent Cantet's new film reminds me a little of those Graham Greene novels about well-meaning Westerners who get mixed up in disastrous situations in third-world countries; think of The Quiet American, Our Man In Havana, or The Comedians, set in Haiti also. For the confused capitalist white men, Cantet substitutes middle-aged randy white women soaking up the sun and Tequila Sunrises outside Port-au-Prince. Thankfully there is very little political theory being spouted by the main characters, although Ellen cannot resist some harsh comments directed at Brenda late in the film.

Charlotte Rampling as Ellen has relatively few scenes, but leaves a great impression as a college professor whose value in the sexual marketplace shoots up when she leaves Boston for the tropics. She doesn't seem very bitter about this, just accepts it as part of the aging process. Karen Young is new to me, most of her work has been done for TV. Her part is different, more spiritual, less grounded in the realities of here and now. She has less inner resources to cope with the chaos and violence of Haiti. Louise Portal is one of my favorite Quebec actresses, known to foreign viewers through Denis Arcand's very funny Decline of The American Empire. Here she plays a woman who is simpler than Ellen or Brenda, happier and less conflicted about growing old.

Cantet's direction of actors and description of the poverty and desperation, as well as the beauty of the Haitian locales is very effective. I wondered what he was going to do after Time Out, that wintry cry of despair from the French Alps, and he hasn't disappointed me.