Leap Year

We are introduced to Laura and her sad life. She is a contributor to a business magazine, but spends most of her time in her apartment, wearing pjs. Apparently she took at face value a man to be named businessman of the year for the magazine, wrote the article and it turned out he was a total fraud, but the magazine was already on the stands. She didn't do a background check, since she didn't think it was necessary. So she loses her job, or at least suspended for a time. On her calendar, she marks off the days of the month for February, with filled in red for February 29th. That day has a special meaning which we find out later. She lives in a somewhat seedy apartment (ants, cockroaches) and lives through watching neighbors. It is comfortable for her being there. Other than a brother, she seems isolated, and has numerous one night stands, not wanting to even know their names. One man gets into a rather violent and degrading relationship with her, and it borders on being very dangerous. But she encourages it. As the days count down to the end of the month, just what does she have in mind? She seems to accept the life that she has made for herself, and it is rather dreary and depressing.

So, we've got this chick with a real weird hard-on for the looming February 29th, like it's the expiration date on her sanity, and wouldn't you know it, the whole shebang ends in a climax that's about as pleasant as discovering a hairball in your morning coffee. Mónica del Carmen as Laura exudes flesh and blood for this character and her journey through the personal tragedy, marked by urban solitude and loneliness. She stumbles into some kinky business that apparently glues her body, her space, and her shot at redemption together. Turns out, there's no "do not cross" tape on Laura as she begins to experience transgression and dedicates herself to licentious exercise of sadomasochism.

This is definitely an arthouse character study into a love-lust-and-loneliness casualty. Think of it as the kinky cousin of Jeanne Dielman, a watered-down Hisayasu Sato that kinda smells like the leftovers of Jean-Claude Brisseau, Götz Spielmann, Silvio Soldini, Catherine Breillat, Lars von Trier, Conrado Sanchez, Werner Schroeter, Julio Medem and Fabrice Du Welz's recent Alleluia (which, let's be honest, was pretty damn bonkers). Now, while this film delivers a potent whiff of alienation and an uncomfortably raw artistic realism, this soul-baring cinematic enema, with its troubling eroticism, is supposedly a vehicle of compassion for this deeply messed-up woman. My advice? Maybe skip this one. Seriously, proceed with the kind of caution. You've been warned.

Leap year is the story of the encounter or rather the break up of Laura and Arturo. Apparently this is a simple story but it contains a lot of details worth taking a second look at. The Australian director and screenwriter who lives in Mexico submerges us in a visual world that is plain and charmless for Mexican standards and someone might be tempted to judge the film by its visual austerity. But this perspective allows Michael Rowe to explore the solitude of Laura, her detachment from others and to slowly introduce us into her adventures with man, what she searches in them or better said who she would like to encounter in them. After seeing the film a close friend told me it was anti Hollywood. Definitely it does not embody a mass market aesthetic. The dark skinned actors and the unappetizing looks of the apartment where the action takes place are ideal to center the attention of the spectator on what is happening to the main character. Scenes like Laura taking off her bra underneath her shirt, picking her nose while working on her computer submerge us into an uncomfortable bodily intimacy. And there are also the very explicit sex scenes with exquisite violence full of details I don't even feel free to mention here that are not exciting in the usual sense but awaken a deep curiosity for the character. This movie was not shown in the Mexican commercial circuit. What does it mean when society that not willing to see herself in the mirror. When Michelangelo Antonioni answered critics of his movie The adventure (1960) he used these words "Eros is sick, man is uncomfortable and this makes him react but he does so in the wrong way, he explores eroticism and he is unhappy".

Watched this last night with my wife and we both agreed it is perhaps the most accurate depiction of modern life of young adulthood that either of us have ever seen. This film is to that lonely time of self discovery in the mid to late 20's that Apocaplyse Now is to the Vietnam War. Not only is the depiction of sex graphic and frank but it isn't sexy. And there is about the best explanation for U.S. Mexico relations -and the Mexican gov. in general (or lack thereof)- in this film that I have ever heard: i.e. the monetization of security. If you have seen and liked the films of Carlos Reygadas, Fernando Eimbcke and Arturo Ripstein then you will understand the type of aesthetic at work here. If on the other hand your idea of Mexican cinema is Vicente Fernandez or the Santos lucha libre films you are in for a rude awakening.

Laura's character is so complex. We see her living a superfluous life when she interacts with other characters, except for her brother Raul and a guy named Arturo. We descend to the darkest levels of the human psyche along with the main character and that exploration is highly successful by the director. The film is linear, with no jumps in time as does Inarritu or Guillermo Arriaga, and also includes sex scenes which are pretty explicit. Although it seems the movie is just porn, it goes beyond sex. The aesthetic is like simple and I think the merit of the movie is the story and how it show us the life of a lonely woman living on a big city. So, after painful and rough journey, perhaps it is possible to find hope and redemption. A great Mexican film.