[BLEAK STREET
screens Thursday March 17th at 6:45 pm and Sunday March 20th at 8:40 pm at the
Cleveland Cinematheque.]
Review by Bob Ignizio
Classical filmmaking aesthetics make BLEAK STREET, directed by Arturo Ripstein from a screenplay by his
wife Paz Alicia Garciadiego, feel like a lost 1940’s film noir, albeit one shot
and set in Mexico. And like those classic noirs, we know almost from the outset
that things won’t be ending happily for the protagonists. Effortlessly living
up to its name, seldom has a film been populated by so many desperate fringe
dwellers destined for doom.
The glistening black and white photography by
cinematographer Alejandro CantĂș only adds to the atmosphere of hopelessness and
despair, while at the same time imparting a dark beauty to the proceedings.
Stop the film at virtually any point and one would have an image suitable for
framing, but probably not one most people would want to hang on their walls.
But this is not the sort of film generally described as “painterly”, filled
with static compositions. Fluid, assured camera movements give the film a
vitality that belies its dour tone.
The plot revolves around two odd couples. First, we meet
twin brothers Little Death and Little AK (Juan Francisco Longoria and Guillermo
Lopez). Both are little people working as masked wrestlers (luchadores), each
one a diminutive version of a larger wrestler for whom they act as both ring
partner and mascot. Ostensibly managed by their drunk father, it is really
their mother who takes care of business, even helping her sons secure the services
of prostitutes for a post-match celebration.
The two women mom procures are the other main pair in the
film: Adela (Nora Velazquez) and Dora (Patricia Reyes Spindola). Their best
years long behind them, the two struggle to make ends meet. Adela makes extra
money by propping her (most likely senile) mom up in the street as a beggar. As
for Dora, even when she does make money, her drunk husband Max (Alejandro
Suarez) is likely to steal it. To make matters worse, he also steals her “work
clothes”, wearing them for gay trysts. Dora is more upset over her clothes
being ruined than her husband’s infidelity.
It’s a grim inevitability that the stories of these
characters will intersect in tragedy.
Ripstein sees neither killers nor victims as wholly good or
evil. They are all victims of their situations in life, but at the same time
each has their dark side that cannot be entirely excused. Such is life. Beyond
that, there really isn’t any message to the film, but it is an engrossing and
visually stunning piece of cinema that I quite enjoyed watching. 3 ½ out of 4
stars.
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