Mostrando las entradas con la etiqueta The Headless Woman. Mostrar todas las entradas
Mostrando las entradas con la etiqueta The Headless Woman. Mostrar todas las entradas

21.2.10

"La mujer sin cabeza", de Lucrecia Martel (The Independent review)


By Jonathan Romney


It hardly ever happens at film festivals that people take time out to see something twice. But when I first caught Argentinian film The Headless Woman at Cannes in 2008, several critics were already on a second viewing.

Some hadn't chosen to go back: at its first screening, The Headless Woman drew as many catcalls as cheers. And many people – for, against or undecided – left the film bewildered. The Headless Woman probably mystified as many viewers in Cannes as any premiere since Antonioni's L'avventura in 1960 – and I suspect that Lucrecia Martel's film too will go down in history as a classic.

That a film should be perplexing needn't be a turn-off: look how popular Michael Haneke's Hidden was. Martel, the hugely original director of La ciénaga and The Holy Girl, doesn't set out to baffle in quite the same way as Haneke:The Headless Woman is mysterious because it places us in the same foggy, dislocated frame of mind as its traumatised heroine.

That heroine is Veronica (Maria Onetto), a middle-aged woman with peroxide blonde hair and a placidly distracted look. Early on, we see her at the wheel of her car. The camera holds on her as she drives along, an ancient Nana Mouskouri hit playing on the radio, and it stays on her as there's an almighty bump: Veronica has apparently hit something, but after stopping for a moment, she drives off, the music still pumping away.

Her rear-view mirror shows a dog lying in the road, but do only we see it, or does Veronica? Does she know what's happened?

What she knows, and how she feels, remain moot throughout. We see her at the local hospital, being checked for injuries, and framed by cinematographer Barbara Alvarez to look disconnected from everything around her; in one shot, a scanning machine hides her face, making her literally headless. She forever seems to be looking the other way from everyone else, moving at a different speed to the world.

Veronica takes shelter in a hotel room, where she's visited by a solicitous male acquaint-ance: they sleep together, but it's only later that we realise he is married to Veronica's cousin. When Veronica's husband comes home the next day, he barely seems surprised by her spacey silence: could it be that she is always like this?

Meanwhile, the question remains: what actually happened on the road? Veronica eventually announces that she thinks she killed someone, but no one will entertain the thought seriously. Meanwhile, police have found something in the nearby canal and, at the local garden centre, a boy has failed to show for work. He's one of the background people in the film, one of Argentina's indigenous poor who work in Veronica's world as labourers, gardeners, cooks, but who don't seem to be perceived as real people by the bourgeoisie. Yet Martel makes us acutely aware of this background world, and of the way that Veronica's circle ignores it.

In one scene, Veronica drives to a shanty settlement outside town: it remains a blur outside her car window, neither visited nor seen. Martel plays teasing games with our perceptions. When Vero visits an aunt, the old lady talks of her house being full of the dead; then the silhouette of a boy, out of focus and unexplained, quietly slips out of the room. A phantom? Veronica's accidental victim? He turns out to be real, the cook's son. But he's no less invisible for that – one of the ghosts that haunt Veronica's class, just as the "disappeared" of the dictatorships of the Seventies and Eighties haunt Argentina today.

The film can be read as a political parable, alluding not only to the denials of the past, but to the bourgeoisie's present denial of its sheltered privilege. But these issues are never raised explicitly. Martel is in the first place interested in making us feel what it's like to inhabit her characters' sealed world – a series of fishtank spaces such as the dining room where Veronica's family finally gathers behind glass doors.

Martel immerses us in the dislocated, stunned consciousness of a woman so out-of-focus it is as if she's barely there. Veronica seems less a person than an image, the distant echo of a Hollywood melodrama heroine. With her blonde hairdo, she's a near relation of those haunted women (older than femmes fatales, younger than matrons) in the films of Pedro Almodovar, who is among Martel's producers. Mesmerisingly played by Maria Onetto – a sort of performance in negative – Veronica is an oddly magnetic void, attracting the film's energies and our fascination, not to mention the fascination of all those, especially men, who dance attendance on her. (Would it be going too far to see her artificial blondeness as an echo of the once idolised Eva Peron?)

Watching the film again, the narrative struck me as actually more or less straightforward – but even then, there are gaps, loose ends, patches of narrative haziness, and that's just as it should be. The Headless Woman is no wilfully opaque puzzler designed to alienate; Martel is out to confound and bedazzle us, and to worry us too. You'd have to be headless or heartless yourself not to let this extraordinary, eerie film get under your skin.

19.2.10

"La mujer sin cabeza", de Lucrecia Martel (The Guardian)


By Peter Bradshaw

In the past decade, there have been three great films about guilt, denial and the return of the repressed: Mike Leigh's Vera Drake in 2004, Michael Haneke's Hidden in 2005 – and this is the third, La Mujer Sin Cabeza, or The Headless Woman, directed by Lucrecia Martel and co-produced by Pedro and Agustín ­Almodóvar. It is a masterly, disturbing and deeply mysterious film about someone who strenuously conceals from ­herself the knowledge of her own guilt.

Each time I have seen it, this film has swirled residually in my subconscious for days, and each time I have witnessed exactly the same spectacle outside the cinema afterwards: knots of people ­excitably, grumpily arguing about it. Some denounce it for ­being boring, ­wilfully obscure arthouse stuff – and, yes, be warned, it is a ­difficult, challenging film – while others, like onlookers trying to piece together events leading up to a robbery, ­frantically ask each other what happened and where and how and why. Then there's a smaller group, including me, dazed and ­wondering if what we have seen is not a portrait of a guilty person, but rather the ­autobiographical and minutely realistic dream this person is having.

The Headless Woman is set among an extended wealthy family in ­Argentina. Maria Onetto plays Verónica, an ­elegant, middle-aged woman who works as a dentist. Driving back from a ­family ­get-together, Verónica hits something in her car – bang! – her ­forehead lunges ­forward and appears to smash either into the steering wheel or the ­windshield, and whiplashes back. Verónica brakes and for a long, long ­moment, Martel's camera holds the shot of her profile: as she sits immobile and silent in the car. Is she in shock? Is she gazing at what she has hit in the rear-view mirror? For the first time, we see a child's handprint on the driver's-side window, a handprint which, in some kind of nightmarish ­continuity error appears to change ­position in the next shot.

But couldn't that just be from the kids who were larking around her car at the party earlier? We turn with Verónica, and all we can see at this stage is a dead dog in the distance, which in an earlier scene had been with some boys playing by the roadside.

Verónica returns home: clearly ­traumatised. She cannot answer simple questions; she is ­confused. But it is not merely the physical impact. Verónica is dealing with the awful suspicion that she killed not merely the dog, but its owner. She has killed a child. Verónica confesses as much, in a quiet, wondering voice, to her ­husband, perhaps ­conveying an unspoken ­instruction that he and the menfolk of the ­family – ­doctors and medical types well ­connected with the cops – should ­handle this situation.

Martel's movie intuits and imitates her concussed state, a state which ­embraces evasive semi-consciousness. Shots are asymmetrically composed in such a way that we can't be sure what we are supposed to be looking at: Verónica, with her faint, not-all-there smile, will be in one part of the screen, while someone else, in another part, will be quietly getting something sorted. Like Verónica, the film glimpses the truth out of the corner of its eye. The sound design is such that voices that we think are emanating from just behind the camera, near Verónica, are ­coming from people talking in the middle ­distance: belatedly, we match the sound to their moving lips.

Often, people talking to Verónica will be seen only from the neck down – they are headless, like the famous photo of the "headless man" in the 1963 Duchess of Argyll divorce case. Her disorientation becomes most disturbing when she goes with a family party to visit an ancient aunt, who is suffering from dementia, and who complains that her apartment with its ancient furniture is filled with squeaks, like the sounds of the dead. In the same state of ­suppressed panic that she ­perceives ­everything else, Verónica sees that this old woman is a kindred spirit; she too must now live with ghosts.

But even here the complications and agonies are not complete. This is not the first time Verónica has had to swallow a secret and live a lie. There is another elephant in the living room she has to feed. A long, mysterious trip to a hotel just after the accident, and sexualised encounters with two different ­family members, indicate that avoidance, ­secrecy and denial are lifelong habits.

This is not an easy film to watch, or to understand, but the potency with which it resonates in the imagination is remarkable. Lucrecia Martel's other films, The Swamp (2001) and The Holy Girl (2004) have both had something of this spacey, floating style, but never before has it been applied to something so painful, so relevant, and never before has she delivered such a psychologically real portrait: demonstrating in both style and content what happens when we go into denial. I'm as certain as I can be of the towering talent of Lucrecia Martel, but I can't quite be certain of exactly what The Headless Woman is about. For example: the child's ­handprint changing position … did I just ­imagine that? You tell me.


10.1.10

Best of 2009 (Film Comment)


Ya había publicado esta lista cuando en el blog del Lincoln Center se dio un adelanto. Ahora salió publicada con detalles de puntajes en la propia revista Film Comment y es llamativo por lo poco con lo que THE HURT LOCKER le ganó a LA MUJER SIN CABEZA para quedarse con el primer puesto de la encuesta. Son apenas diez puntos, que no sé exactamente a lo que equivale pero calculo que será un voto o dos, o un par de posiciones más alto en alguna que otra lista...

1. The Hurt Locker Kathryn Bigelow, U.S. 772 points
2. The Headless Woman Lucrecia Martel, Argentina/Spain/France/Italy 762
3. Summer Hours Olivier Assayas, France 745
4. 35 Shots of Rum Claire Denis, France/Germany 605
5. Fantastic Mr. Fox Wes Anderson, U.S. 552
6. Police, Adjective Corneliu Porumboiu, Romania 542
7. Inglourious Basterds Quentin Tarantino, U.S./Germany 499
8. A Serious Man Joel & Ethan Coen, U.S./U.K./France 472
9. The Beaches of Agnès Agnès Varda, France 404
10. Lorna’s Silence Jean-Pierre & Luc Dardenne, Belgium/France/Italy/Germany 382
11. 24 City Jia Zhangke, China/Hong Kong/Japan 379
12. The White Ribbon Michael Haneke, Austria/Germany/France/Italy 347
13. The Limits of Control Jim Jarmusch, U.S./Japan 284
14. The Sun Aleksandr Sokurov, Russia/Italy/Switzerland/France 278
15. Bright Star Jane Campion, U.K./Australia/France 277
16. Two Lovers James Gray, U.S. 273
17. In the Loop Armando Iannucci, U.K. 237
18. Tulpan Sergey Dvortsevoy, Germany/Switzerland/Kazakhstan/Russia/Poland 235
19. Coraline Henry Selick, U.S. 231
20. Antichrist Lars von Trier, Denmark/Germany/France/Sweden/Italy/Poland 218
21. Public Enemies Michael Mann, U.S. 213
22. Where the Wild Things Are Spike Jonze, U.S. 200
23. Up Peter Docter & Bob Peterson, U.S. 199
24. An Education Lone Scherfig, U.K. 190
25. Night and Day Hong Sang-soo, South Korea 177
26. Still Walking Hirokazu Kore-eda, Japan 172
27. Liverpool Lisandro Alonso, Argentina/France/Netherlands/Germany/Spain 168
28. Up in the Air Jason Reitman, U.S. 161
29. Of Time and the City Terence Davies, U.K. 155
30. Broken Embraces Pedro Almodóvar, Spain 141
31. Me and Orson Welles Richard Linklater, U.K./U.S. 139
32. Adventureland Greg Mottola, U.S. 138
33. The Maid Sebastián Silva, Chile/Mexico 133
34. Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans Werner Herzog, U.S. 132
35. The Informant! Steven Soderbergh, U.S. 125
36. Duplicity Tony Gilroy, U.S./Germany 124
37. La Danse: The Paris Opera Ballet Frederick Wiseman, France/U.S. 120
38. Beeswax Andrew Bujalski, U.S. 116
39. The Messenger Oren Moverman, U.S. 115
40. You, the Living Roy Andersson, Sweden/Germany/France/Denmark/Norway/Japan 114
41. District 9 Neill Blomkamp, U.S./New Zealand 113
42. Hunger Steve McQueen, U.K. 112
43. Frontier of Dawn Philippe Garrel, France 111
44. Tokyo Sonata Kiyoshi Kurosawa, Japan/Netherlands/Hong Kong 110
45. Drag Me to Hell Sam Raimi, U.S. 107
46. Treeless Mountain So Yong Kim, U.S./South Korea 102
47. A Single Man Tom Ford, U.S. 97
48. Precious: Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire Lee Daniels, U.S. 96
49. Ponyo Hayao Miyazaki, Japan 94
50. Goodbye Solo Ramin Bahrani, U.S. 93

30.12.09

The Sleepwalker Awakes: "The Headless Woman", on DVD (IFC)


By Michael Atkinson

Bearing the sulphurous odor of a film artist with very particular and often well-hated views on how much visual narrative should mean and how little it should actually show or "make" us feel a certain way, Lucrecia Martel has made only three features, but immediately, at 35 with "La Ciénaga" (2001), she had a unique vocabulary and a unique voice. (She's also become, for whatever difference it might make, arguably the world's greatest working woman filmmaker.)

Sure, she falls into the neo-minimalist catalogue -- an idiotic label, given how inhabited and rich and unsolvable so many of those films are, by Tsai or Reygadas or Weerasethakul or Costa or whomever. But Martel's movies are entirely hers, breathtakingly sustained essays in unease that lance the cyst of our pressurized anxieties better than any genre film, as well as being experiments in how to experience story -- as spectacle, which is how Hollywood has come to define cinema, or as a mystery we have to wonder about and understand as a living metaphor for bigger, badder, hairier questions of emotional existence. One of the best (and, naturally, least seen) films of 2009, "The Headless Woman" is about disconnection -- so how can anyone have expected to connect?

Martel routinely lays into the comfortable, well-pickled Argentine bourgeoisie she apparently knows so well, and the new movie begins at a simple afternoon outing of mothers and kids and cars. But right away, the framing and cutting and layered busyness suggest an imbalance, a lack of seeing clearly, an impending catastrophe -- we're not being fed expository information, but instead observing the smug, shallow, utterly real nouveau riche as they walk some kind of precipice... Something's going to happen, and it won't be good.

When it does, we're still not sure what it is -- Veró (María Onetto), an aging bleached-blonde wife and mother, runs over something on the way home. But does she? She's not sure, either, but whatever happened, it cut her loose from her privileged moorings.

She stalks back into her life in a dumbfounded daze -- is she an amnesiac? Does she remember the husband, the kids, the old boyfriend who seduces her? -- and her discombobulation is so complete that her sleepwalk through rampaging affluence, where everyone is solicitous to her, becomes not only an existential dynamic but a political one as well. It's worth remembering, because Martel needs no reminding, how small a percentage the SUV-driving, couture-wearing suburbanites represent in South America, surrounded by oceans of poor people just like the ones that landscape Veró's garden.

Throughout "The Headless Woman," Martel keeps us as off-kilter as Veró, chopping up time and launching into traveling shots that imply wicked narrative torque, but which are, finally, just as enigmatic to us as the moments are to the half-lidded heroine. The experience is electrifying; like a journey through an underlit basement or a strange neighborhood after dark, you're wide awake. Onetto's performance is almost entirely passive, and is rather amazing for that, but Martel, and the subjective, upsetting lens she aims at the world, is the star.

If you have come to see movies, or really any narrative art form, as a perpetual conflict between how much should be explained away in unambiguous detail and how much should be left unsaid, coaxing us forward in our seats and asking us questions, then Martel's movie is a crucible you need to pass through.


23.12.09

Film — Votes for The Headless Woman (Village Voice)


CRITIC POSITION
Sam Adams8th
Melissa Anderson1st
Michael Atkinson2nd
Sean Axmaker9th
Jeannette Catsoulis1st
Tom Charity4th
Mike D'Angelo8th
Jim Emerson6th
Steve Erickson10th
David Fear5th
Scott Foundas9th
Cynthia FuchsUnranked
Larry Gross1st
J. Hoberman6th
Kent JonesUnranked
Ben Kenigsberg5th
Michael Koresky1st
Nathan Lee1st
Diego Lerer2nd
Patrick Z. McGavin5th
Kristi MitsudaUnranked
James Quandt1st
Nicolas RapoldUnranked
Andrew Schenker1st
Amy Taubin3rd
Martin Tsai2nd
Bill White5th
Matthew Wilder5th

Best Film of 2009 (Village Voice Poll)


FILM VOTES MENTIONS
The Hurt Locker35654
Summer Hours23940
A Serious Man22934
Inglourious Basterds21436
35 Shots of Rum18932
The Headless Woman18328
Police, Adjective17128
Fantastic Mr. Fox16329
Two Lovers13720
Up12021
The White Ribbon9819
Still Walking9017
Public Enemies8214
In the Loop7915
Where the Wild Things Are7413
The Sun7313
The Beaches of Agnes6812
Of Time and the City6611
Night and Day6313
Up in the Air6213
You, the Living6113
Coraline6011
Antichrist598
24 City5911
Bright Star5910
A Single Man539
The Limits of Control5311
Ponyo5110
Broken Embraces507
Revanche459
Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans4510
Humpday447
Il Divo449
The Informant!429
Lorna's Silence429
Liverpool406
Julia407
Tulpan385
An Education388
Tokyo Sonata388
Avatar376
Everlasting Moments356
Treeless Mountain358
Adventureland338
La Danse: The Paris Opera Ballet335
Duplicity336
Goodbye Solo317
Precious295
The Maid296
The Girlfriend Experience264
Sugar256
Anvil! The Story of Anvil255
The Baader Meinhof Complex256
Katyn243
Beeswax235
Tetro234
(500) Days of Summer205
District 9207
Birdsong193
Three Monkeys184
I'm Gonna Explode183
The Messenger184
Sin Nombre174
Collapse173
Gomorrah172
Afterschool163
Frontier of Dawn152
Import/Export143
The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus144
Cheri142
Drag Me to Hell145
My Son, My Son What Have Ye Done142
Burma VJ142
Invictus133
Big Fan122
Star Trek122
World's Greatest Dad123
Extract112
Julie & Julia114
Tyson112
The House of the Devil114
Medicine for Melancholy113
Tony Manero114
Bruno113
Moon112
Me and Orson Welles112
Made in U.S.A.101
Outrage103
The Princess and the Frog101
Sita Sings the Blues101
The Road103
Taxidermia101
The Pervert's Guide to Cinema92
O'Horten92
Halloween II91
The Damned United92
Bronson94
Munyurangabo82
California Dreamin'81
Home81
Watchmen81
Passing Strange82
Crank: High Voltage82
Fados81
Red Cliff82
Somers Town72
Jerichow71
The International72
A Perfect Getaway72
Thirst72
The Box73
The Soloist61
Kabei: Our Mother61
Taking Woodstock61
The Cove61
A Town Called Panic61
Crazy Heart62
Toyko Sonata61
Lake Tahoe63
Next Day Air61
201261
We Live in Public62
1261
Coco Before Chanel53
Black Dynamite51
Orphan51
Whatever Works51
Cargo 20051
Capitalism: A Love Story51
Observe and Report51
Killshot51
A Woman in Berlin51
Yasukuni51
Valentino: The Last Emperor51
Autumn Ball51
The Class51
Seraphine42
The September Issue41
Nine43
Newcastle41
Paradise32
Five Minutes of Heaven31
The Hangover32
The Feature31
Lion's Den31
Loren Cass31
Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen31
Bliss31
A Christmas Carol31
Knowing31
The Last House on the Left21
Serbis21
That Evening Sun21
Big River Man21
Rudo Y Cursi21
In a Dream11
The Window11
Fighting11
Funny People11
The Brothers Bloom11

22.12.09

Y esta? (Mejor actuación 2009, Indiewire Poll)


Best Lead Performance

#Film TitleScoreMentions
1Tilda Swinton, Julia13334
2Charlotte Gainsbourg, Antichrist10030
3Jeremy Renner, The Hurt Locker8025
4Joaquin Phoenix, Two Lovers7320

Maria Onetto, The Headless Woman7324
5Tom Hardy, Bronson6419

Best Director 2009 (Indiewire Poll)


#
Film TitleScoreMentions
1Kathryn Bigelow, The Hurt Locker2222
2Lucrecia Martel, The Headless Woman1010
3Olivier Assayas, Summer Hours77
4Claire Denis, 35 Shots of Rum66

James Gray, Two Lovers66
5Joel & Ethan Coen, A Serious Man55

Michael Haneke, The White Ribbon55
6Quentin Tarantino, Inglourious Basterds44

Wes Anderson, Fantastic Mr. Fox44
7Corneliu Porumboiu, Police, Adjective33

James Cameron, Avatar33

Jan Troell, Everlasting Moments33
8Antonio Campos, Afterschool22

Jane Campion, Bright Star22

Jason Reitman, Up in the Air22

Lars von Trier, Antichrist22

Paolo Sorrentino, Il Divo22

Spike Jonze, Where the Wild Things Are22

Steve McQueen, Hunger22

Steven Soderbergh, The Informant!22
9Aleksandr Sokurov, The Sun11

Francis Ford Coppola, Tetro11

Hayao Miyazaki, Ponyo11

Hirokazu Kore-eda, Still Walking11

Jean-Luc Godard, Made in U.S.A.11

Jia Zhangke, 24 City11

Jim Jarmusch, The Limits of Control11

Lee Daniels, Precious: Based on the Novel "Push" By Sapphire11

Lisandro Alonso, Liverpool11

Lone Scherfig, An Education11

Lynn Shelton, Humpday11

Nina Paley, Sita Sings the Blues11

Oren Moverman, The Messenger11

Pedro Almodovar, Broken Embraces11

Roy Andersson, You, the Living11

Steven Soderbergh, The Girlfriend Experience & The Informant!11

14.12.09

Best of 2009 (Slant Magazine)


"35 Rhums", de Claire Denis, elegida la mejor película estrenada en 2009 en los Estados Unidos por un grupo de críticos. "La mujer sin cabeza", de Lucrecia Martel, aparece sexta. "La ventana", de Carlos Sorín, en el puesto 19°. Aquí, el ránking y los votos individuales.

13.12.09

The underlying mystery of 'The Headless Woman' (Los Angeles Times)


By Dennis Lim

With only three features to her credit, the Argentinian writer-director Lucrecia Martel is already among the most distinctive voices in world cinema. Fluid yet oblique, thick with atmosphere and almost trancelike, her movies look, sound and move like no one else's.

Martel's latest, "The Headless Woman," which received a brief theatrical run during the summer, is not just one of the year's best films but also one of the subtlest, perhaps the one that most requires and most amply rewards repeat viewings -- the DVD is out from Strand Releasing this week.

All of Martel's films unfold in a haze and grow out of a catalytic trauma.

In "La Ciénaga" (2001, Homevision Entertainment), a drunken matriarch, stumbling around poolside, falls on a broken wine glass.

In "The Holy Girl" (2004, HBO Home Video), a shy doctor presses up against a Catholic schoolgirl on a crowded street.

A few minutes into "The Headless Woman," Verónica (María Onetto), a middle-aged dentist, is driving alone when she reaches for her ringing cellphone and hits a dog . . . or is it a boy? Either way, she pauses to compose herself and drives on.

The rest of "The Headless Woman" doesn't make it any clearer what happened during this apparent hit-and-run but dwells instead on how Verónica and those around her deal with -- or, more to the point, psychologically defend themselves against -- the likelihood of her culpability.

Like Martel's earlier films, "The Headless Woman" is set in Salta, a northwestern province of Argentina at the foot of the Andes. (And, like "The Holy Girl," it bears the executive-producer imprimatur of Pedro Almodóvar.) It also further refines her singular visual style, which is at once abstract and sensual and which seemed to emerge fully formed in "La Ciénaga."

Martel's compositions are precise yet oddly cramped and skewed. What we can see is as important as what is obscured. Her trademark shot is an off-center close-up. She has a fondness for shooting through rain and glass. The depth of field is usually shallow, the background melting into a puzzling, sometimes unsettling blur. The bespectacled Martel craftily has suggested that her movies look the way they do because she's short-sighted.

Her approach to storytelling also compels the viewer to pay attention. She avoids establishing shots and elides back story. We are plunged into conversations and interactions we don't fully understand; relationships take some time to be clarified (and to further complicate matters, all three of her films depict oppressively close family ties).

Heavily reliant on off-screen sound and action, Martel's films invite us to look and listen for clues, even as they test the boundaries of perception.

"La Ciénaga" is set over a humid summer at a crumbling country house; "The Holy Girl" takes place at a rambling hotel that is hosting a medical conference. While both films divide their attention among large ensembles, "The Headless Woman" restricts itself to a single central character who is defined by the very disorientation that Martel's elusive cinema typically breeds.

But is the dazed, absent Verónica, who wanders through her daily routine as if discovering everything anew, suffering from shock or willed amnesia?

At least one thing is clear in this movie of many mysteries: Verónica's ability to move past her crime -- indeed to erase all trace of it -- is a luxury of her social standing. Martel's films frequently have touched on class, observing the dynamics between the Argentinian bourgeoisie and their servants.

From the murk of "The Headless Woman," a political allegory emerges: the so-called dirty war in Argentina, under Jorge Videla's dictatorship in the late '70s and early '80s, was marked by the disappearances of thousands of dissidents -- and by the willingness of those who could look away and remain silent to do just that.

Martel has professed an interest in genre film. Up next, reportedly, is a comic-book adaptation about an alien invasion. "The Headless Woman," through which Verónica drifts like a ghost, is a kind of horror movie (as its title implies).

The really frightening thing here is our ability to forget and to ignore: The film is both a testament to and an indictment of the human capacity for denial.

25.8.09

"La mujer sin cabeza": mejor promedio por sala en los Estados Unidos

RowTWTitle (click to view)Weekend GrossTheater Count / ChangeAverage

1 62 The Headless Woman $14,778 1 - $14,778

2 40 My One and Only $58,692 4 - $14,673

3 53 Magnificent Desolation (IMAX) $28,120 2 -2 $14,060

4 1 Inglourious Basterds $38,054,676 3,165 - $12,024

5 59 The Baader Meinhof Complex $17,348 2 - $8,674

6 43 It Might Get Loud $52,074 7 - $7,439

7 2 District 9 $18,213,546 3,050 +1 $5,972

8 48 Dolphins and Whales: Tribes of the Ocean 3D $35,434 6 +1 $5,906

9 77 Five Minutes of Heaven $5,364 1 - $5,364

10 79 The Boys: The Sherman Brothers' Story $4,840 1 - $4,840

22.8.09

Entrevista a Lucrecia Martel (Indiewire)


Argentine director Lucrecia Martel’s drama/thriller “La Mujer sin Cabeza” (The Headless Woman) follows a bourgeois woman (Maria Onetto), who is is driving alone on a dirt road, becomes distracted, and runs over something. In the days following, she is dazed and emotionally disconnected from the people and events in her life, becoming obsessed with the possibility that she may have killed someone. The police confirm that there were no accidents reported in the area and everything returns to normal until a gruesome discovery is made.

In 2001, Martel directed the film La Cienaga (The Swamp), which won awards in Berlin, Havana, Toulouse, and Sundance, among other festivals. In 2004, Martel wrote and directed La Nina Santa (The Holy Girl), which competed for the Cannes Film Festival Palm d’Or, nad she served on the Cannes competition jury in 2006. Strand Releasing opened “The Headless Woman” at New York’s Film Forum yesterday (Wednesday, August 19) with more dates to follow.

[Editor’s Note: indieWIRE sent questions to Ms. Martel in Buenos Aires via email in English and she responded in her native Spanish. We are including her complete responses in Spanish, with an English translation italicized below each of her responses.]


indieWIRE: The title of the film is “La Mujer sin Cabeza,” which in English is literally translated as a “headless woman.” Are you also implying that she is not “using her head”. Does this distinction seem appropriate?

Lucrecia Martel: El titulo hace una referencia a algun problema con la cabeza, pero lo que me gusta es que suena a clase B. Me gustan los titulos de las peliculas clase B. Uno podria encontrar en un estante de peliculas de terror titulos como “La Cienaga,” “La Nina Santa” o “La Mujer sin Cabeza.”

Translated: The title refers to a problem with the head, but what I like is that it sounds like a B-movie. I like the titles of B-movies. One might find on a shelf of titles such horror films as “La Cienaga,” “La Nina Santa,” or “The Headless Woman.”


iW: As a filmmaker is it important to love, or at least accept or sympathize with your characters? Do you have to be able to find something in them that you can respect or understand?

LM: Escribo sobre lo que conozco y no entiendo. Emociones por las que he pasado. Quizas las circunstancias pueden ser distintas en la pelicula, pero las emociones las he experimentado. Digo esto solo para explicar que es dificil estar lejos de los personajes. Les deseo la misma felicidad que deseo para mi.

Translated: I write about what I know and also what I don’t understand. Emotions for what has transpired. The circumstances may be different in the film, but the emotions are those that I’ve experienced. I say this only to explain that it is difficult to be far from the characters. I wish them the same happiness I wish for myself.


iW: A friend described your work to me as “kaleidoscopic.” This idea of your films being “a succession of changing phases or action.” That’s intruiging to me. Is this a fair interpretation of your style?

LM: Ningun director de cine se enojaria con esa apreciacion. Puedo decirle como hago la pelicula y lo que deseo compartir con el espectador, pero el exacto efecto que una pelicula provoca en un espectador es un milagro, o mejor dicho, un misterio. Estas peliculas fueron escritas por capas, las capas estan presentes a lo largo de toda la pelicula, es decir, en todas las escenas estan presentes todos los elementos que desarrolla el film. Cada escena es una mezcla particular de esos elementos. Por ejemplo, siempre uso el mismo ejemplo, aunque no pertenece a ninguna de las peliculas, un cuchillo puede aparecer como palabra en el titulo, como sonido metalico en la siguiente escena, como reflejo lejano en la tercera, etc, pero el cuchillo esta en todas las escenas.

Translated: No filmmaker would be annoyed with such an assessment. I can tell you how I make the film and want to share it with the audience, but the exact effect that a film has on a viewer is a miracle, or rather, a mystery. These films were written with layers, the layers are present throughout the film, ie. in all the scenes there are elements that develop the film. Every scene is a particular mix of these elements. For example, I always use the same example, which does not necessarily belong to any one of the movies—a knife can appear as a word in a title, sounds like metal in the next scene, reflecting back in the third, etc., but the knife is in all of the scenes.


iW: Quoting from the same friend, who is a big fan of your work: “Her very observational, detached critiques of the middle class seem very literary to me. It’s interesting that by being so deliberately ‘uncinematic,’ she seems to have reached a purer cinema. I think you could definitely say that all three of her features are pure cinema—the definition of what cinema is: strong images interlocking, opposing, strengthening, enriching each other. I guess I’m just curious how she arrived at this type of filmmaking.” Could you react to that assessment?

LM: Me da curiosidad esa idea de pureza del cine. Existira algo asi?

Translated: I am intrigued by this pure idea of cinema. I wonder if this really exists?


iW: Your films are about more than traditional “storytelling” or “plot.” Could you elaborate on how you define cinema?

LM: Una pelicula es un proceso de pensamiento, lo cual no es opuesto a proceso emotivo. La emocion y el pensamiento no ***son sustancias distintas. Y como le decia, escribiendo las peliculas con este sistema de capas, la trama es una linea muy debil, en donde los puntos de quiebre no son tan importantes como la acumulacion de elementos.

Translated: A film is a process of thinking that is not opposed to an emotional process. Emotion and thinking are not distinct substances. And as I said, writing movies with this system of layers - the fabric is very weak - where breaking points are not as important as the accumulation of elements.


iW: Do you feel that “The Headless Woman” is different, or similar, to your previous films, either thematically or stylistically?

LM: No lo se. La Cienaga era una observacion de un periodo corto de tiempo, como la Mujer sin Cabeza, La Nina Santa era mas bien un cuento.

Translated: I don’t know. “La Cinega” was an observation of a short period of time, while “The Headless Woman” and “La Nina Santa” are more of a story.


iW: Do you have a sense of how your study of animation affected your approach to filmmaking or interest in it?

LM: Sin duda, cuando haciamos animacion cada cuadro era importante, cada movimiento definia el caracter de un personaje. Y la construccion de la profundidad a traves de capas. Lo que sobraba se notaba mucho. Si, sin duda eso me enseno mucho.

Translation: Without doubt, in animation each frame is important, every movement defines the character. And the construction of that depth through layers. What is seen matters quite a bit. Yes, it certainly taught me a lot.


iW: If we may say so, you have a great sense of personal style. Can you share some insight into what influences that style? Similarly, could you share a bit of background on the influences on your cinematic style or approach to filmmaking?

LM: El gusto por narrar me viene de las tradiciones orales, de los cuentos de mi abuela, las conversaciones de mi mama. El mundo de las conversaciones esta lleno de condensaciones, derivas, malentendidos, repeticiones. Esos son los materiales con los que trabajo. Mi deuda es con esas mujeres.

Translated: My love of storytelling comes from oral tradition, the stories from my grandmother and conversations with [my] mother. The world is full of discussions of condensation, drifts, misunderstanding, repetition. These are the materials I work with. My debt is to these women.


iW: Last year, “The Headless Woman” was the top film in indieWIRE’s Critics’ Poll of the best films without distribution. Do you think much about how the modes for distributing cinema today are changing, and what that might mean for the way that films are seen in the future?

LM: El consumo de informacion, de peliculas, de musica esta cambiando tanto en estas ultimas decadas que es dificil saber en que devendra el mercado de cine que no puede llegar facilmente a las salas. Soy bastante optimista respecto al desencanto que produce la homogeneidad, en general. El cine que triunfa en las salas es bastante homogeneo en cuanto a narrativa y vision del mundo. Creo que tarde o temprano habra una enorme curiosidad por todo aquello que hoy no es masivo. Me preocupa que una pelicula sin un costoso aparato publicitario no pueda establecer una relacion con el publico contemporaneo, claro. Pero intento no sujetar mi percepcion del tiempo a la del mercado.

Translation: The consumption of information, films, music has been changing in recent decades. It’s hard to know what will become the film that can not easily reach [audiences]. I am fairly optimistic about the disillusionment that produces homogeneity in general. The films that succeed in [theaters] are fairly homogeneous in terms of narrative and vision of the world. I think sooner or later, there will be a huge curiosity about everything that today is not massive. [Editor’s note: Or things that don’t receive widespread attention currently] I am concerned that a film without an large advertising [budget] can not establish a connection with contemporary audiences, of course. But try not to hold my perception of time to the market.


iW: Can you share a bit about what you are working on now?

LM: Estoy escribiendo. Retome un guion que estaba escribiendo antes de La Mujer sin Cabeza. Creo que habria que ponerlo dentro del genero fantastico. Es una invasion de naturaleza extrana. Una amenaza de jardin. Parientes no deseados o desconocidos que aparecen en nuestras casas y viven en el jardin. Verdaderos monstruos. Bueno, estoy escribiendo sobre eso, no se si sera la proxima pelicula.

Translation: I am writing. I started a script before I was writing “The Headless Woman.” I think we should put it in the fantasy genre. It is a strange kind of invasion. A threat to [a] garden. Unwanted or unknown relatives that appear in our houses and live in the garden. Real monsters. Well, I’m writing about this, but I do not know if it will be my next movie.

Andy Lauer contributed to this interview