A Story that Came from the South

Movie Review 

****

Ali by Paco Baños

Ali is afraid of falling in love and terrified of driving… smokes like a chimney and is as blunt and cynical as they make them.

Paco Baños' heroine lives in Seville, but she could be from anywhere else. She struggles with becoming an adult, though she behaves like one at home, where she is used to play a protective and caring role with her mum. Ali looks after her progenitor, who doesn't give up on love despite all the failed 'Princes Charming'.

Baños' film made me flashed back to the Seville I lived in about eight years ago; the city where the Cine Avenida screened Buffalo '66, one of the director’s confessed inspirations for this movie. And, I’m not saying you should forget about the touristic and traditional image of Seville, but you should also know there is so much to this alternative side of the city. And, I feel proud to say it’s this under-the-surface Seville that has made possible a little gem of the Spanish cinema like Ali.

Ali’s dialog is witty, quick, fun and sharp, as is its heroine, a certainly inspired Nadia de Santiago. Baños’ film talks about overcoming our fears; it’s a tale with tender men and strong women. It’s a movie with Andalusian accent. Julio de la Rosa’s soundtrack is delicate at times, pays an homage to garage rock and to dancy pop, and hypnotises us with bells and subtle notes. But, what makes this an incredible soundtrack is Ali’s breathing or smoking, her laugh, the sound of the sea near the Trafalgar’s lighthouse or that torrential rain that you knew was going to happen just because someone decided to put their clothes up in the terrace.

I honestly don’t think I’d change anything in Baños’ movie that succeeds at telling a genuine story about how people become important when they are connected to each other. A tale coloured by the sunlight, warm and bright, from the south that inundates every frame of its wonderful cinematography.

A Cage Of Dreams

Review of The Golden Dream by Diego Quemada-Díaz

I admit, I went to see The Golden Dream partly skeptical about the need of another movie about young immigrants from Central America on their journey to the USA. I do have a social conscience, that is not the problem, and I like to see these stories on film (I believe cinema has the obligation to show what happens out there, since the mass media has become a bit of an entertainment tool these days). I also feel more than respect for directors that don’t mask the truth and decide to give voice to those who don’t make it to the 6pm news. My skeptical attitude had more to do with the fact that I had seen Sin nombre (Cary Fukunaga, 2009) so I couldn’t stop wondering what would make this movie unique from the audience's point of view. I didn’t have to wait long to see the difference.

I was one of those lucky viewers who had the chance to listen to Quemada-Diaz explaining the process of filming The Golden Dream after the show. He struck me as a gentle but combative speaker. As he explained, he didn’t want to tell a horror story (there is not much happiness laying around of the way of illegal immigrants), but he manages to suggest the obstacles his characters, built out of real testimonies, will find on their way. He definitely succeeds on doing so without falling into explicit violence or using shocking images.

However, there is one confusing element as spectator when watching The Golden Dream: it lacks the rhythm expected in a road movie. Quemada-Diaz, in the Q&A session that followed the film, expressed his wish for making an epic movie (epic in proportion, since it combines hundreds of testimonies). The epic pace is the one you should expect. The story and characters develop surrounded by infinite landscapes and the hundreds of people who accompany them in their journey.

The Golden Dream is a beautifully shot movie with a poetic cinematography and the many unresolved and intriguing events of the lives of Sara, Chauk and specially Juan. It’s a tale of brotherhood and loyalty, in which the unexpected may be the key to survival.