There was something more than a little apt about watching this film in Covent Garden in London, in an auditorium full of people benefiting from a commuter-newspaper's free film voucher promotion (myself not one of them, I may add).
It seems that 2004 finds the middle classes with somewhat of a taste for "realistic" South American films that are "powerful and affecting". And while I concede that California-born Marston's film is shot in a realistic fashion, in South America, and the subject matter and story are affecting, there's something about it that leaves me cold. In part it is the director's unashamed adoption of ALL the clichés of (what has become) "the genre": wobbly "documentary-style" camera work (which made me a little sea-sick at first, but mercifully had settled down by the third act); the beauty of the South American landscape contrasted with the dire conditions of the population's workplaces and homes; the stunning lead role with their dumpy sidekick (see also 'The Motorcycle Diaries', which can at least claim not to be sentimental)...
But really, the thing that doesn't sit comfortably with me is the way that, in trying to present a humanised account of what is (to people with the means and leisure to watch films and write reviews on the internet for them) a rather abstract and distant problem, we end up objectifying the people, the culture AND the problem. This is a fictional work after all, and by extension, entertainment. It is, like a holiday to the region, or reading about it in National Geographic, a break from our comfortable lives to enjoy the aesthetics, concern ourselves with the injustice that our lifestyles contribute to, and squirm at "shocking" moments (such as when Maria has to reswallow a drug package that she has just 'passed'), a buzz that we no longer get from horror films (not that we like to watch them of course, but a 'thriller'... now maybe...) But let me pull this back from a tirade against the middle-classes to say that it is a strange and sad thing that such a genre as 'Maria' fits into even exists, and by showering Catalina Moreno with glossy US and European awards we comfortably assimilate her into "our world", and after 100 minutes and a happy, slow-motion ending (ooh, I'm really feeling affected now!) we can forget about it, secure in the knowledge that we have engaged with it in a realistic fashion. I can't wait to see Ms Moreno starring alongside Tom Cruise in a Hollywood remake, or being fondled by Nicolas Cage in soft focus. After all, she is authentic.
It seems that 2004 finds the middle classes with somewhat of a taste for "realistic" South American films that are "powerful and affecting". And while I concede that California-born Marston's film is shot in a realistic fashion, in South America, and the subject matter and story are affecting, there's something about it that leaves me cold. In part it is the director's unashamed adoption of ALL the clichés of (what has become) "the genre": wobbly "documentary-style" camera work (which made me a little sea-sick at first, but mercifully had settled down by the third act); the beauty of the South American landscape contrasted with the dire conditions of the population's workplaces and homes; the stunning lead role with their dumpy sidekick (see also 'The Motorcycle Diaries', which can at least claim not to be sentimental)...
But really, the thing that doesn't sit comfortably with me is the way that, in trying to present a humanised account of what is (to people with the means and leisure to watch films and write reviews on the internet for them) a rather abstract and distant problem, we end up objectifying the people, the culture AND the problem. This is a fictional work after all, and by extension, entertainment. It is, like a holiday to the region, or reading about it in National Geographic, a break from our comfortable lives to enjoy the aesthetics, concern ourselves with the injustice that our lifestyles contribute to, and squirm at "shocking" moments (such as when Maria has to reswallow a drug package that she has just 'passed'), a buzz that we no longer get from horror films (not that we like to watch them of course, but a 'thriller'... now maybe...) But let me pull this back from a tirade against the middle-classes to say that it is a strange and sad thing that such a genre as 'Maria' fits into even exists, and by showering Catalina Moreno with glossy US and European awards we comfortably assimilate her into "our world", and after 100 minutes and a happy, slow-motion ending (ooh, I'm really feeling affected now!) we can forget about it, secure in the knowledge that we have engaged with it in a realistic fashion. I can't wait to see Ms Moreno starring alongside Tom Cruise in a Hollywood remake, or being fondled by Nicolas Cage in soft focus. After all, she is authentic.