The independent film Máncora from Peru is poignant but in a way also light. It's linear, yet full of twists and turns, and it ultimately delivers a sharp message.
Máncora beings in Lima with an upper-class twentysomething named Santi in the thralls of a "fuck it all" period. He's disenchanted, aggressive, and withdrawn. Then, a shattering event: his father has committed suicide. Unable to come to terms with his own behavior and clearly feeling the guilt of his father's death, Santi leaves for the beaches of Máncora, a day's drive from the city, with his half-sister Ximena and her husband Íñigo.
While Santi begins to center himself in the tabula rasa state of Máncora, he cannot shake his aggressive streak. An altercation at a dance seems like a typical bar fight until several days later, when his adversaries ambush him on the docks and push him overboard, leaving him for dead. As his life flashes before his eyes, Santi finally decides to transform into a nurturing, warm person and surges up to the surface to begin his productive life.
Máncora engages the viewer in a way not unlike The Motorcycle Diaries. The peripheral visions of the city, the countryside, and the people from all walks of life in Perú lend it a certain journey motif. Here, however, the central plot driver is Santi coming to terms with his flaws and his purpose in life, so the literal journey is secondary.
Máncora is not just a character development piece. It's also a saga of adventure, sibling rivalry, fun, and passion. The characters are both beautiful and flawed. With a cast featuring Enrique Murciano from Without A Trace, Elsa Pataky, and Jason Day (not bad for an Indie film) you'd expect nothing less.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Kaleidoscopio - Self Titled
Kaleidoscopio is a very promising collaboration between DJ/producer Ramilson Maia and singer, composer, and ballerina Janaíana Lima. Their debut album is a wild scattering of creativity that, although it lacks consistent quality, produces enough gems to make it worthwhile.
The album's first hit, especially in Europe, was "Voce me Apareceu," probably the most clever song on the album in terms of Lima's songwriting. Then came the incredibly catchy "Tem Que Valer." Here the collaboration really flourishes, Maia styling the song exquisitely to bring out the joy in Lima's melody. Her pizzazz, which is on display in abundance in the video (link below) is truly striking.
My next favorite tracks from Kaleidoscopio are "Paro Pra Pensar" and "Meu Sonho," a bright dance-pop nod to the US R&B movement from the early 1990's. The scat singing in "Meu Sonho" is hypnotic, one of those perfect moments from a song that you wish would go on and on.
The biggest indicator of Kaleidoscopio's creative power is their remixes, where the songs take new life and hop from one genre to another. This requires Lima to actually record the vocals separately for each version, with different speed and stylings. The languid bossa version of "Tem Que Valer" stands right up to the musical complexity of the bossa tradition. Again, it's not just a case of an outside DJ speeding up the vocals and adding some beats; it's a creative and thoughtful approach to give one song multiple identities.
Youtube link: Kaleidoscopio - Tem Que Valer (audio quality not great for some reason)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ElXSSajwXD0&feature=related
The album's first hit, especially in Europe, was "Voce me Apareceu," probably the most clever song on the album in terms of Lima's songwriting. Then came the incredibly catchy "Tem Que Valer." Here the collaboration really flourishes, Maia styling the song exquisitely to bring out the joy in Lima's melody. Her pizzazz, which is on display in abundance in the video (link below) is truly striking.
My next favorite tracks from Kaleidoscopio are "Paro Pra Pensar" and "Meu Sonho," a bright dance-pop nod to the US R&B movement from the early 1990's. The scat singing in "Meu Sonho" is hypnotic, one of those perfect moments from a song that you wish would go on and on.
The biggest indicator of Kaleidoscopio's creative power is their remixes, where the songs take new life and hop from one genre to another. This requires Lima to actually record the vocals separately for each version, with different speed and stylings. The languid bossa version of "Tem Que Valer" stands right up to the musical complexity of the bossa tradition. Again, it's not just a case of an outside DJ speeding up the vocals and adding some beats; it's a creative and thoughtful approach to give one song multiple identities.
Youtube link: Kaleidoscopio - Tem Que Valer (audio quality not great for some reason)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ElXSSajwXD0&feature=related
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Soldados de Salamina by Javier Cercas
The standout Spanish novel of the early 2000’s, Soldados de Salamina made fledgling journalist Javier Cercas a mega hit, selling over 1 million copies, a staggering tally for Spain. Soldados is billed as the Civil War-era "relato real" (true story) of Rafael Sanchez Mazas, a founding member of the nationalist Falange, who was set to be executed among other political prisoners by Republican troops fleeing the fall of Barcelona. Sanchez Mazas not only survives the firing squad, but, in the ensuing search for him, is the benefactor of an unbelievable act of decency in the most unlikely setting: an anonymous opposition soldier finds him and lets him go.
In reality, the book is only partially about Sanchez Mazas, as the tale is sandwiched between the author's search for documents and living witnesses to complete the story, on one hand, and his reluctance to come to terms with the facts once they are all present, on the other. The approach has its positives and negatives. The good is that it forces one to admire Cercas's persistence at putting the pieces together through vague memoirs and interviews with very elderly participants. Particularly impressive is the detective work to locate one of the Republican soldiers holding Sanchez Mazas captive, Antoni Miralles.
However, the introduction is a prime example of Cercas's style getting the best of his purpose, as what should be a brief rationale for writing the book becomes a 70-page catalogue of Cercas's problems with his girlfriend, his self-doubt as an author, and what he ordered to drink everytime he interviewed someone for this book. Am I interested? Probably not - and I wish Cercas would curb some of his elongated, elaborately punctuated sentences (a la Jonathan Swift) into more direct phrases.
Still, Cercas does well to find the drama in the story, and the vignettes are touching: Maria Angelats's lifetime correspondence with Sanchez Mazas even though the two never saw each other after a brief encounter in the forest; Miralles's moonlight two-step as he tries to recover, even 40 years later, from so much needless bloodshed.
For me, the story's most moving aspect - illuminated by both Cercas and Miralles - is that the dead live on in the memories of others, until everyone who remembers them also passes. Thus, the elderly shoulder the ever-increasing burden of the memories of their fallen comrades generations before. Many critics have treated the book as a search for heroism (an ironic juxtaposition since Sanchez Mazas is such a coward) but in a country where historical memory is so important, the concept of true death must have resonated as much if not more than the compassion and awareness with which various benefactors acted to save Sanchez Mazas's life.
Soldados de Salamina is published in Spain by Truquets. There is an English translation available in the US.
In reality, the book is only partially about Sanchez Mazas, as the tale is sandwiched between the author's search for documents and living witnesses to complete the story, on one hand, and his reluctance to come to terms with the facts once they are all present, on the other. The approach has its positives and negatives. The good is that it forces one to admire Cercas's persistence at putting the pieces together through vague memoirs and interviews with very elderly participants. Particularly impressive is the detective work to locate one of the Republican soldiers holding Sanchez Mazas captive, Antoni Miralles.
However, the introduction is a prime example of Cercas's style getting the best of his purpose, as what should be a brief rationale for writing the book becomes a 70-page catalogue of Cercas's problems with his girlfriend, his self-doubt as an author, and what he ordered to drink everytime he interviewed someone for this book. Am I interested? Probably not - and I wish Cercas would curb some of his elongated, elaborately punctuated sentences (a la Jonathan Swift) into more direct phrases.
Still, Cercas does well to find the drama in the story, and the vignettes are touching: Maria Angelats's lifetime correspondence with Sanchez Mazas even though the two never saw each other after a brief encounter in the forest; Miralles's moonlight two-step as he tries to recover, even 40 years later, from so much needless bloodshed.
For me, the story's most moving aspect - illuminated by both Cercas and Miralles - is that the dead live on in the memories of others, until everyone who remembers them also passes. Thus, the elderly shoulder the ever-increasing burden of the memories of their fallen comrades generations before. Many critics have treated the book as a search for heroism (an ironic juxtaposition since Sanchez Mazas is such a coward) but in a country where historical memory is so important, the concept of true death must have resonated as much if not more than the compassion and awareness with which various benefactors acted to save Sanchez Mazas's life.
Soldados de Salamina is published in Spain by Truquets. There is an English translation available in the US.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Belanova - Dulce Beat
Belanova, a synth-pop band from Mexico, is to Natalia LaFourcade as the Postal Service is to Death Cab For Cutie - a more electronic, melody-driven offspring of its parent. Well, not exactly. Actually, I was surprised to find out that the Belanova singer is not LaFourcade; it is a 20-something from Sinaloa named Denisse Guerrero who dabbles in fashion design and culinary arts. The Mexican hipster culture seems to be producing spades of gorgeous and multi-talented female singers. Yet another is Ximena Sariñana, who may be the most talented of the bunch.
Dulce Beat is Belanova's Grammy-winning second album. The songs that got the most airplay in Mexico are "Mi Niño" and "Por Ti" but my favorite is "Tal Vez." I happen to like the sound even though I admit there's not much to it. The whole album covers mostly the same territory - strong vocal hooks with a beat that sort of lulls the music on. The bass, guitar, and drums are there but they exist mostly in the background. Still, at the least the quality is consistent and there's enough of Guerrero to keep the listener interested.
The comparison between LaFourcade and Guerrero comes and goes. Much of Belanova plays well besides LaFourcade's "Otra Vez" - I hear a lot of overlap in the way the two singers reach for the high notes - but to me Guerrero thrives in the "Fantasia Pop" setting (also the title of the group's next album) where LaFourcade shines most in bossa nova.
Youtube Link:
Belanova - Tal Vez: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OCK1RkC8-ZA
Dulce Beat is Belanova's Grammy-winning second album. The songs that got the most airplay in Mexico are "Mi Niño" and "Por Ti" but my favorite is "Tal Vez." I happen to like the sound even though I admit there's not much to it. The whole album covers mostly the same territory - strong vocal hooks with a beat that sort of lulls the music on. The bass, guitar, and drums are there but they exist mostly in the background. Still, at the least the quality is consistent and there's enough of Guerrero to keep the listener interested.
The comparison between LaFourcade and Guerrero comes and goes. Much of Belanova plays well besides LaFourcade's "Otra Vez" - I hear a lot of overlap in the way the two singers reach for the high notes - but to me Guerrero thrives in the "Fantasia Pop" setting (also the title of the group's next album) where LaFourcade shines most in bossa nova.
Youtube Link:
Belanova - Tal Vez: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OCK1RkC8-ZA
Marcos Ordoñez - Detrás del Hielo
If you're loooking for a Spanish author who can really write, look no further than Marcos Ordoñez, Spain's foremost theater critic (with the Madrid-based El País) and also a novelist. Ordoñez keeps the pulse of Spain's entertainment culture, drawing from a knowledge base forged from a lifetime of media consumption. To talk music, film, literature, or whatever, with Marcos is to be in the presence of a natural guru.
Ordoñez's latest fiction work, Detrás del Hielo, is a critique of political power that challenges common notions of love and loyalty and blurs the line between right and wrong itself. The story tracks young Klara's coming of age as she falls in love with two best friends amidst ever-deepening political turmoil in the made-up country of Moira. There's Oskar, a well-to-do photographer whose family struggles to keep a tenuous grip on aristocracy; and Jan, a cinema critic whose political leanings make him a marked man. Oskar is Klara's first boyfriend, but a fling with Jan has more sparkle even though Klara knows it's not exclusive. At times, they maintain a three-way relationship that, despite all the stress it entails, also seems to represent the pinnacle of their respective friendships.
The declining political situation mirrors the complexity of the three-way relationship. The unpopular but reasonable liberal president is replaced by a political machine that quickly curtails civil liberties and freedom of the press. (Moira looks a lot like Perón's Argentina.) Jan, a member of an opposition paramilitary group, is forced to go on the run. No one can contact him for some time, but late in the novel, the three are reunited once more in the cafe where they first met. It is a poignant scene as Jan's attitude foreshadows his disappearance soon thereafter. Klara must wrestle with the guilt of putting him in danger by insisting on their final meeting.
The intentions of the book were really not clear to me until the very end. I was waiting for the inevitable confrontation between Jan and Oskar over Clara, but it never came. While I assumed Ordoñez was building up slowly to the climax like in Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter, he was really proposing a different paradigm of love and attraction. On the surface of it, the three-way seems wrong, but with these characters, how could it have been any other way?
It is a strange story, to be fair, but the quality of Ordoñez's writing is what really sets it apart. His powers of description and his ability to make you truly understand the characters are amazing.
The book was all the more intriguing for me since I know Marcos personally. I remember him saying he chose Moira to save himself the meticulous research a real setting would require. Still, I have questions. Jan reminds me of Tuvia Bielski, who led the Polish militants that protected 1200 Jewish civilians during the Holocaust. Could this be a reference too obscure even for Marcos? I'd be a fool to assume so, especially since I know how much Marcos admires Jews. Probably the biggest question is which character the author identifies most with: Jan, the cinema aficionado, or Oskar, the more mild-mannered of the two but also the more acculturated?
Detrás del Hielo is published by Zeta Bolsillo in Spain and is probably available on half.com or ebay.es.
Ordoñez's latest fiction work, Detrás del Hielo, is a critique of political power that challenges common notions of love and loyalty and blurs the line between right and wrong itself. The story tracks young Klara's coming of age as she falls in love with two best friends amidst ever-deepening political turmoil in the made-up country of Moira. There's Oskar, a well-to-do photographer whose family struggles to keep a tenuous grip on aristocracy; and Jan, a cinema critic whose political leanings make him a marked man. Oskar is Klara's first boyfriend, but a fling with Jan has more sparkle even though Klara knows it's not exclusive. At times, they maintain a three-way relationship that, despite all the stress it entails, also seems to represent the pinnacle of their respective friendships.
The declining political situation mirrors the complexity of the three-way relationship. The unpopular but reasonable liberal president is replaced by a political machine that quickly curtails civil liberties and freedom of the press. (Moira looks a lot like Perón's Argentina.) Jan, a member of an opposition paramilitary group, is forced to go on the run. No one can contact him for some time, but late in the novel, the three are reunited once more in the cafe where they first met. It is a poignant scene as Jan's attitude foreshadows his disappearance soon thereafter. Klara must wrestle with the guilt of putting him in danger by insisting on their final meeting.
The intentions of the book were really not clear to me until the very end. I was waiting for the inevitable confrontation between Jan and Oskar over Clara, but it never came. While I assumed Ordoñez was building up slowly to the climax like in Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter, he was really proposing a different paradigm of love and attraction. On the surface of it, the three-way seems wrong, but with these characters, how could it have been any other way?
It is a strange story, to be fair, but the quality of Ordoñez's writing is what really sets it apart. His powers of description and his ability to make you truly understand the characters are amazing.
The book was all the more intriguing for me since I know Marcos personally. I remember him saying he chose Moira to save himself the meticulous research a real setting would require. Still, I have questions. Jan reminds me of Tuvia Bielski, who led the Polish militants that protected 1200 Jewish civilians during the Holocaust. Could this be a reference too obscure even for Marcos? I'd be a fool to assume so, especially since I know how much Marcos admires Jews. Probably the biggest question is which character the author identifies most with: Jan, the cinema aficionado, or Oskar, the more mild-mannered of the two but also the more acculturated?
Detrás del Hielo is published by Zeta Bolsillo in Spain and is probably available on half.com or ebay.es.
Monday, March 23, 2009
David Julca - Como Se Extraña
David Julca first came onto my radar in a live performance with his first band, the New Republic, in a dingy English pub in Panama City in 2006. What grabbed my attention in the live setting, even more so than on the band's studio recordings, was his jaw-dropping voice - sheer power and grace on par with Brandon Boyd of Incubus. Hearing how he slid up and rested on an impossibly high note the way a jogger cuts through the clear spring air, I could tell he didn't need the benefit of studio magic like so many big name singers.
Now Julca, a Peruvian who grew up in Panama and is now based in Colombus, Ohio, has a self-produced solo album, an easygoing rock affair with shades of jazz and pop. The songs unfold lazily behind tight melodies and mazy guitar solos. There are occasional feats of strength from Julca's pipes, but I can see why the vocal pyrotechnics do not run rampant: there's no point in belting just for the sake of belting.
Como Se Extraña is clearly a product of Julca's life and experiences. The title track and "Meet Me In Panama" are autobiographical songs about a kid forging an identity in three different home countries. "Si Te Vas" and "Complicado" - probably my favorite cut on the album so far - are tasteful reductions on relationships and breakups. Julca's songwriting does seem a bit more inventive in Spanish than in English, though "Meet Me In Panama" has a cracking opener: "I don't really know if anyone has written a song for you."
The New Republic album is also worth a listen, but it was clear to me that the band’s musical identity was still up in the air. Highlights include "In My Life," "Everything If Anything," and the politically tinged "Action," where a tribute to Panamanian singer Ruben Blades shows the band’s musical conscience.
The easiest part of Julca's style to appreciate remains his singing. It's just so pure, so effortless - the kind of skill that, as with height in basketball, you just can't teach.
Youtube Link: "In My Life" music video from the New Republic, with David Julca singing.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j7qhqKtF3qw&feature=PlayList&p=C41A281375848945&playnext=1&playnext_from=PL&index=40
Now Julca, a Peruvian who grew up in Panama and is now based in Colombus, Ohio, has a self-produced solo album, an easygoing rock affair with shades of jazz and pop. The songs unfold lazily behind tight melodies and mazy guitar solos. There are occasional feats of strength from Julca's pipes, but I can see why the vocal pyrotechnics do not run rampant: there's no point in belting just for the sake of belting.
Como Se Extraña is clearly a product of Julca's life and experiences. The title track and "Meet Me In Panama" are autobiographical songs about a kid forging an identity in three different home countries. "Si Te Vas" and "Complicado" - probably my favorite cut on the album so far - are tasteful reductions on relationships and breakups. Julca's songwriting does seem a bit more inventive in Spanish than in English, though "Meet Me In Panama" has a cracking opener: "I don't really know if anyone has written a song for you."
The New Republic album is also worth a listen, but it was clear to me that the band’s musical identity was still up in the air. Highlights include "In My Life," "Everything If Anything," and the politically tinged "Action," where a tribute to Panamanian singer Ruben Blades shows the band’s musical conscience.
The easiest part of Julca's style to appreciate remains his singing. It's just so pure, so effortless - the kind of skill that, as with height in basketball, you just can't teach.
Youtube Link: "In My Life" music video from the New Republic, with David Julca singing.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j7qhqKtF3qw&feature=PlayList&p=C41A281375848945&playnext=1&playnext_from=PL&index=40
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Ninette y un Señor de Murcia
"Ninette" is a classic Spanish movie by Goya-winning director Fernando Fernán Gómez (for 1986's "Viaje a Ninguna Parte"). It is a timeless story with commendable acting and humor at every turn. It was also one of the first films for legendary actor Alfredo Landa, who, along with several other cast members, was in the original theater version which debuted in Madrid in 1964, a year before the film.
Ninette has two themes: a ridiculous love and the simply ridiculous. A nondescript man from Murcia (Andres), bored with his desk job, goes to Paris to make the most of his fleeting youth. He takes a room in a boarding house run by a Spanish expatriate couple (Pierre and Bernarda). Wanting to immediately embrace the Paris night scene but unable to convince his friend (Armando; Alfredo Landa) to join him, he stays in the boarding house his first night and is seduced by the owners' young daughter, the attractive Ninette.
The result is a non-quite-wholehearted tryst of comedic proportions. Ninette is controlling, manipulative, and whimsical. "Remember, I am French!" she often explains. The docile Andres does not seem to care for her on more than a physical level but he allows her to dictate his every move. She does not want him to leave the apartment so he invents various illnesses and injuries to the point where the landlords question his sexuality and Armando becomes totally exasperated.
This movie must have made even Franco laugh. Andres remains in Paris for two months and never leaves the apartment. Ninette's father Pierre, a caricature of the Spanish pastoral macho intellectual, becomes his antagonist. In one sensational sequence, Pierre plays the bagpipes and then grills Andres and Armando on the meaning of socialism. "¿Cómo que no hay un problema agrario? Vamos a discutirlo...despacio." (What do you mean, there's no agrarian problem? We are going to discuss this...slowly.)
The fun ends when Ninette announces to Andrés - and then to her parents - that she is pregant and that they are going to get married. After negating to impose his will for so long, Andres has reached the point of no return. But then, it is difficult to pity him since he is responsible for his own demise.
I found out about this movie through a friend who was in a class taught by Alfredo Landa's biographer, Marcos Ordóñez. If you can get your hands on this film you're in for a wild ride.
Ninette has two themes: a ridiculous love and the simply ridiculous. A nondescript man from Murcia (Andres), bored with his desk job, goes to Paris to make the most of his fleeting youth. He takes a room in a boarding house run by a Spanish expatriate couple (Pierre and Bernarda). Wanting to immediately embrace the Paris night scene but unable to convince his friend (Armando; Alfredo Landa) to join him, he stays in the boarding house his first night and is seduced by the owners' young daughter, the attractive Ninette.
The result is a non-quite-wholehearted tryst of comedic proportions. Ninette is controlling, manipulative, and whimsical. "Remember, I am French!" she often explains. The docile Andres does not seem to care for her on more than a physical level but he allows her to dictate his every move. She does not want him to leave the apartment so he invents various illnesses and injuries to the point where the landlords question his sexuality and Armando becomes totally exasperated.
This movie must have made even Franco laugh. Andres remains in Paris for two months and never leaves the apartment. Ninette's father Pierre, a caricature of the Spanish pastoral macho intellectual, becomes his antagonist. In one sensational sequence, Pierre plays the bagpipes and then grills Andres and Armando on the meaning of socialism. "¿Cómo que no hay un problema agrario? Vamos a discutirlo...despacio." (What do you mean, there's no agrarian problem? We are going to discuss this...slowly.)
The fun ends when Ninette announces to Andrés - and then to her parents - that she is pregant and that they are going to get married. After negating to impose his will for so long, Andres has reached the point of no return. But then, it is difficult to pity him since he is responsible for his own demise.
I found out about this movie through a friend who was in a class taught by Alfredo Landa's biographer, Marcos Ordóñez. If you can get your hands on this film you're in for a wild ride.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
