birthdaynoodle

I was pleasantly surprised by this Spanish film about two young artists trying to make ends meet in Madrid. They share a comedy act that they perform in bars, for which they improvise costumes themselves, using cheap materials and means. The result is rather shabby, but that's part of its charm. Unfortunately, their creative project isn't very financially rewarding, so they each depend on other side jobs. Charleen (Carmita Morales) performs naked behind a window at a seedy peep show club called Mundo Fantástico (Fantastic World). Susana (Sonia Barba) works as a clown at children's parties and as a drawing and photography model. Both seem professionally unsatisfied and try to figure out how to improve their situation. Like their comedy act in the movie, the film Mundo Fantástico is a low budget production that relies on the way that Susana and Charleen's characters compliment each other. The former has a magnetic, charismatic personality, while the latter successfully projects an aura of despondence, getting her share of attention in the shadows of the peep show club, a place where she seems to bask with a certain artistic freedom in her depression. Figuratively speaking, if the two formed a band, Susana would play the lead guitar and Charleen the bass. Morales is one of the producers of the film, which perhaps gives this story of artistic ambition a meta quality. The gritty, naturalistic style of the film reminds me a bit of John Cassavetes' aesthetic, but it's even more bare, less glamorous. It all feels extremely real and unpolished. I don't believe it would work as well as a Hollywood remake or even in the hands of a glossier, more exuberant Pedro Almodóvar. It's a little gem and I'm glad to have run into it.

'Liberté' is an arthouse film that's meant to provoke and perhaps even shock. It's about desire taken to the extreme, beyond the niceties of society and reason. It features a group of people of different social classes and ages, who surrender themselves in the darkness of the forest to pleasure and pain, concepts that become indistinguishable from one another. The story, if one may call it that, starts with naughty insinuations and escalates into an all out sadomasochistic extravaganza. It may not be everyone's cup of tea, but it doesn't deserve the low rating that it has received so far on IMDb.

Then again, Catalan director Albert Serra never meant to please the audience. He cheekily claims to have been upset by the warm reception of his previous film, the somewhat more accessible 'The Death of Louis XIV'. So he tried to redeem himself this time around by creating something less palatable. He complains that today, most films are made only to gratify the audience and that self-censorship keeps artists from saying anything that may be regarded as too dark, too ambiguous or too offensive for the collective. Fiction is supposed to "break taboos" and show "what's worst about human beings, as a form of catharsis. That's how Greek tragedy was born," he explains in an interview.

The title can be interpreted as ironic, as this absolute "liberty" that the protagonists engage in seems like madness and it isn't clear to what degree they actually enjoy it. Emotion here is expressed with animalistic grunts and sometimes agonizing screams. What I think is important is that it's all done consensually. All the participants voluntarily submit to this strange ritual and share an unspoken moral code. When one of the characters keeps asking for more whipping than he can physically take, the others deny it to him, as if they thought that he was being too greedy. The director believes that "in order to have a true communion between bodies" one must give up the sense of individuality and devote oneself to giving and not only receiving pleasure. What I found most interesting is that beyond a certain point, as the director puts it, "it ceases to matter whether the other person is tall or short, thin or corpulent, young or old, beautiful or ugly." Desire can level the field between "masters and servants, the rich and poor, the handsome and ugly, men and women..." At least in this picture, it seems to reduce human culture to very basic primitive needs, in a way that is egalitarian. There's something grotesque about the imagery in the film, yet at the same time, it looks like these libertines in the forest may be on to something.

"'Liberté'", Serra offers, "is a poem about the logic of the night, unproductive and sterile." Indeed, what is lacking in this deranged orgy is any hint of tenderness, of caring, or constructive contemplation. There is only desperate, burning desire and chaos. There is no trace of the Apollonian and the Dionysiac reigns supreme.

"Liberté" could be viewed as a celebration of artistic freedom. I'm thankful that we live in an era in which someone like Serra can dream up a beautiful nightmare like this, and that at least in some countries, we can view it in cinemas and later comment on it on IMDb.

Less bombastic than some of his previous work (which I also love, by the way), this bittersweet film shows the maturity of a director that's been around and seen it all, someone who's experienced both pain and glory and is asking himself what's next in life. In this partly autobiographical narrative, his most personal so far, Almodovar expresses some frustration with aging and with loneliness, but also his appreciation for the path that he's had the privilege to make for himself and continues to work on, and the people who are important to him. He succeeds in exploring nostalgia without succumbing to sappiness. If anything, Almodovar's senses and craft are sharper than ever. He's able to be critical and loving at the same time. I like how has evolved through the decades and that he keeps experimenting with different styles of storytelling. Antonio Banderas' award-worthy performance as the director's alter ego is understated, yet bold. Almodovar said in an interview that the choice was obvious, as Banderas is to him what Marcello Mastroianni was to Federico Fellini. And indeed there are some similarities between this film and '8 1/2': both films deal with the creative process. But whereas Fellini approaches the topic as a gladiator confronting obstacles with whip in hand, Almodovar is more low key and seems to point to tenderness as his weapon of choice.