The 79th Venice Film Festival's second day was a busy one with two premieres by directors who've managed to seduce critics and the Academy alike. First, Alejandro González Iñárritu came to the Lido with his most ambitious project yet, the epic Bardo, False Chronicle of a Handful of Truths, whose production history is embroiled in many controversies. Then, there was also Todd Field's long-awaited return to the big screen after a decade plus sabsence. TÁR is the director's third feature and feels poised to delight actressexuals in similar ways to his debut and sophomore efforts. So far, Cate Blanchett has received nothing but glowing reviews and might become the third Field leading lady to nab an Oscar nomination.
Let's remember both directors' debuts to celebrate these buzzy premieres. Frankly, as much as I may admire some of their following efforts, Amores Perros and In the Bedroom remain my favorite titles from their filmographies…
AMORES PERROS (2000)
The "hyperlink narrative" is one of the worst cinematic trends of the 00s, and you can safely pinpoint its origin to Iñárritu's first theatrically released feature, with a script penned by Guillermo Arriaga. Yet, judging Amores Perros by its influence on the international moviemaking landscape is unfair. Considered by itself, the picture's a propulsive wonder whose mosaic of coincidences and misery verges on Dickensian absurdism. The convoluted plot sustains itself throughout its wildest turns, in part, because its construction takes cues from a long tradition of pulpy crime thrillers, here weaponized as the vessel for a study of Mexican society.
Running over two and a half hours, it's legitimately awe-inspiring how much Amores Perros keeps its gambit going without losing energy as it goes. If anything, an accumulation of pressure makes the character's despair feel increasingly immediate and urgent, a growing fever ready to drive you mad. Iñárritu aces the negotiation between brutality and stylization, taking his cast to a paradigm beyond realism. Gael García Bernal and Goya Toledo excel at reflecting the film's mounting anxieties. Simultaneously, Emilio Echevarría is a miracle of underplayed menace, a rhythmic variation that makes the surrounding pandemonium all the more visceral.
Despite the marvels of acting and directing, the production's true MVPs can be found elsewhere amid the Amores Perros team. Lensing his first international hit, cinematographer Rodrigo Prieto is as agile with tonal management as the cast. He conveys palpable patinas and societal decay while leading the film towards a heightened milieu where milky sunlight explodes over people's sweaty skin like supernovas. Then there's Gustavo Santaolalla's energetic score, allied to a soundscape that makes chaos legible to the audience's ear. At last, the editing team of Luis Carballar, Iñárritu, and Fernando Pérez Unda deserve special love for their spellbinding achievement – making an epic mural run like a speeding thriller.
Amores Perros is streaming on Vudu, Tubi, and Pluto TV. You can rent the film on other platforms.
IN THE BEDROOM (2001)
Thomas Newman's score wails with strings, voiceless screams that get smothered by melodious arrangements as suburban peace reigns supreme. But then, a phantasmagoria of choral sound interrupts this comforting stance, setting the stage for an eruption of violence that shakes the world off its axis. In the Bedroom's narrative structure is much like its score, working in waves of placidity and panic, insidious forces corroding an idyll that, in retrospect, feels upsettingly hollow. Todd Field's debut feature continues the musical dissonances that had characterized his student shorts, subsuming their formalistic provocations beneath illusory convention.
It's a tricky strategy, intent on catching the audience off-guard even as it sets the pieces for an unavoidable tragedy. Once things start, there's no stopping them, and you can only watch powerlessly as the sketched characters disintegrate in paroxysms of grief. The shocks are often more riveting than the interim dormancy, purposefully so but perhaps too delineated to truly surprise, to nourish a drama defined by its brittleness. Field's elegant hand is a paradoxical presence, smoothing over interesting imperfections. With his actors, he directs them to feel like bombs, timed to detonate at precise moments but volatile enough to threaten a premature burst.
Sissy Spacek and Tom Wilkinson are splendorous portrayals of loss, giving in to sorrow, to rage, to a coldness that can cut one's soul and make the body bleed. Even a clichéd instance of smashing plates during an argument feels renewed by the thorniness each actor brings to their characters, finding new ways to tell old stories. In a pivotal supporting role, Marisa Tomei is similarly superb, commanding the picture's turning point with a guttural scream that's hard to exorcise from one's memory, one's nightmares. Despite this, it'd be inaccurate to compliment In the Bedroom's performances for their loud outbursts. These thespians shine brightest in the respite, playing the quiet before the storm.
In the Bedroom is streaming on Hoopla and Pluto TV. You can also rent the film on most big platforms.
What are your favorite films from Iñárritu and Field?