154 mins |
Rated
R (for violence/gore, language and sexuality)
Directed by Alejandro González Iñárritu
Starring Gael Garcia Bernal, Marco Pérez, Humberto Busto, Emilio Echevarría, Goya Toledo, Vanessa Bauche, Jorge Salinas, Álvaro Guerrero
CHELSEA CLASSICS: ANNIVERSARIES
AMORES PERROS (Alejandro G. Iñárritu, 2000, 154min)
In Spanish, the phrase amores perros refers to relationships that are cursed, impossible, and foolish. In the title of Iñárritu’s movie, perros is an adjective (meaning “stubborn” or “dogged”), but the film also reflects the word’s meaning as a noun, in its dogs, which embody both the best and worst attributes of the human characters. The animals also stand for loyalty, abandonment, betrayal, and redemption.
It is difficult to be judge and jury. Someone watching Amores perros for the first time now, two decades after its release, might say that it is a film like dozens of others in Mexican cinema. But if Iñárritu’s film no longer seems unique, it is precisely because he inaugurated an entire form of storytelling. A new viewer may not be left breathless by the opening sequence today. Perhaps the saturated color comes across as clichéd; perhaps the interweaving of the story lines seems predictable—especially in our digital age. But those of us in Mexico who saw Amores perros the year it appeared knew that it was a film unlike any other made in our country. It is possible that the Cannes prize influenced that perception, as did the nomination for the Oscar for best foreign-language film and the more than sixty international prizes that the movie went on to win. Nevertheless, we would soon gain distance from that giant wave, and understand that the pull of the film was not merely the effect of publicity.
Amores perros represented a quantum leap in the audiovisual grammar of Mexican cinema.
- Fernanda Solórzano
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CHELSEA CLASSICS: ANNIVERSARIES
AMORES PERROS (Alejandro G. Iñárritu, 2000, 154min)
In Spanish, the phrase amores perros refers to relationships that are cursed, impossible, and foolish. In the title of Iñárritu’s movie, perros is an adjective (meaning “stubborn” or “dogged”), but the film also reflects the word’s meaning as a noun, in its dogs, which embody both the best and worst attributes of the human characters. The animals also stand for loyalty, abandonment, betrayal, and redemption.
It is difficult to be judge and jury. Someone watching Amores perros for the first time now, two decades after its release, might say that it is a film like dozens of others in Mexican cinema. But if Iñárritu’s film no longer seems unique, it is precisely because he inaugurated an entire form of storytelling. A new viewer may not be left breathless by the opening sequence today. Perhaps the saturated color comes across as clichéd; perhaps the interweaving of the story lines seems predictable—especially in our digital age. But those of us in Mexico who saw Amores perros the year it appeared knew that it was a film unlike any other made in our country. It is possible that the Cannes prize influenced that perception, as did the nomination for the Oscar for best foreign-language film and the more than sixty international prizes that the movie went on to win. Nevertheless, we would soon gain distance from that giant wave, and understand that the pull of the film was not merely the effect of publicity.
Amores perros represented a quantum leap in the audiovisual grammar of Mexican cinema.
- Fernanda Solórzano
