So... it's Hispanic Heritage Month and by the time you watch this video there's either
a few days left of it or none at all. Irrespective of that, I've been wanting
to celebrate the work of one of my favorite filmmakers on this channel for
years now. His name is Alejandro Iñarritu he's the man behind two of my all-time
favourite movies and today I want to hone in on one of those - that film being
Amores Perros. Iñárritu's presentation of Mexico is one of inherent violence -
it's the way he views his nation, his intention with this film is to never
caricature instead presenting space and characters from a hyper-realistic
perspective. This relates to the pervasive presence of violence and its
consequences as a defining characteristic of contemporary life in
his native city. Iñárritu doesn't discard the beauty of Mexico and the
pride he has of being a Mexican but he certainly explores the underbelly of the
nation aptly and accurately. in interviews Iñárritu has dubbed
Amores Perros' Mexico as a "violent place, mentally and physically, and one
that is about to be overcome by his characters' animalistic nature." The
director along with his trusty cinematographer Rodrigo Prieto utilizes
short focal lengths to highlight this perspective. The repetition of short
focal lengths and wide angles in each episode of this multi-protagonist film
allows us, as the audience, to make a connection between the stories beyond
thematic devices. We are literally piecing all three stories together purely based
on the ways in which they are visually presented to us. The wide angles create
separation; the extreme close-ups force us to find an emotional connection to
whichever character is in question. When I say repetition though I don't
mean it in a nauseating way. The shots are presented to us differently - they
just happen to be similar in execution. This inherently allows Iñárritu to
to reinforce the idea that his version of Mexico is one that doesn't allow its
people to breathe. Though they may be walking different lives they're all
walking in the same direction. In Amores Perros, that direction is death and
danger. The wide angles often distort filmic space, which is contributed to by
the dehumanizing violence, be that an explosive car crash or aggressive
dogfighting. These wide angles keep us at arm's length,
but we're still close enough to almost feel everything. That's the beauty of
Iñárritu's movies I find. He doesn't hold your hand through the story,
nor does he drop you in uninvited, you're almost forced to experience and feel the
picture but unable to actually help his characters. it creates a genuine emotion -
one of desperation and inherent sadness. Amores Perros, his debut feature, is a
hallmark in the director's style and aesthetic. These wide handheld angles
offer up a feeling of explosiveness; at any minute something crazy can happen
remember when I said that Iñárritu repeats these shots across all three
stories? Look at how he frames Octavio's humble house, now the expensive
upmarket home of Valeria... and then Chivo's dilapidated basement.
Despite the economic disparity between all three and the inherently different
characters inhabiting them, there's still this palpable feel of danger. It ties
back into Iñárritu's vision of Mexico one where his characters are all
on different paths but, ultimately, walking in the same direction. I actually
want to focus the bulk of this essay on all three houses of our titular
characters purely because the way in which Iñárritu frames them is not
only fascinating but telling of the story itself.
So let's rewind back to the first story: Octavio, his brother Ramiro, Susana, her
baby and their mother all inhabit these small walls. The house is far too small
yet instead of showing this cramming, Iñárritu opts to frame almost
everything with an establishing shot. Despite this supposed family being
together, Iñárritu's camera tells us all we need to know about them. They're
disjointed, disconnected and distanced from one another.
The only time we switch to extreme close-ups are in moments of loudness and
aggression. It is here where Iñárritu decides to involve more characters in
the shot, which is kind of ironic right? After all an extreme closeup dictates
that only one character fills the screen. Not in Amores Perros... or at least not in
this house. Close-ups are often punctuated by characters behind our
subject blurred and foggy but still watching, ever-present. It adds to the
claustrophobia of this house. I love this shot right here...
notice how Iñárritu's camera tells the entire story. He toys with the short focal
length to distort the foreground and the background. What does this do? It creates
the idea of an illicit desire between Susana and Octavio;
you then have Ramiro pacing, to narcissistic and self-absorbed to notice
what's happening, and then the mother standing afar but overlooking them as if
she is aware of their illicit desires. Notice too how the objects surrounding
them seem big and a plenty almost as if they represent these physical barriers
between human communication in this household.
Although the wide angle appears to give the room an allure of size and space,
what dominates is the notion of a fragmented family. Toward the end of this
story, the short focal length and wide angle combine to amplify the feeling of
desperation. It actively distorts the facial features of Octavio and his
mother as he realises that Susanna and Ramiro have left the country. The scene
ends with a long shot of Octavio peering out of the window. Iñárritu opts for a
handheld version of this shot in the final cut, the shaking representing this
imminent explosion of frustration and violence.
The house suddenly looks huge and empty in spite of its miniscule size what does
this all mean? Iñárritu's wide angle has both expanded and contracted
this space. The breathing of this version of Mexico and its characters is
represented through the shifting of Octavio's House. Iñárritu's camera in
this first story constructs a space that cramps the characters in tiny interiors,
impairs their personal and social progress and surrounds them with an air
of inevitability and foreboding from which they are unable to escape. Let's
move on to the second story, the one that revolves around Valeria a famous model
and her wealthy husband Daniel. When the story begins the wide angles are no
longer; stability has returned to the screen. We are imbued of this feeling of
air. Our characters are finally breathing. They're living comfortably. But the
moment we see Valeria's house for a second time much later in the story, the
wide angles have returned and so has she... this time in a wheelchair, her career
shattered. The haunting wide high-angle shot of Valeria laying impotent on the
bed is almost entrancing. She's about to find out that her contract has been
cancelled and her modeling career is essentially over. As this horror reaches
her ear, this spacious luxurious apartment now feels like a
claustrophobic cage. Iñárritu's suffocating of his characters
returns. Once again it speaks of his vision of
Mexico, one of an abandonment of humanity and the lack of hope. Everything is
restricted. There's a moment in this story though, before Valeria's accident,
where the model and her husband quickly walk toward the window to overlook a
billboard of her modelling campaign. We think nothing of this shot... I suppose
it's a sweet moment between a couple. Iñárritu later returns to this moment
after Valeria has had her leg amputated, though this time it feels torturous. Her
journey from the door to the window is longer, emphasized by the editing and the
change in focal length. The distance between the door and the window is
unimaginably different to the first time we see it.
Iñárritu effectively switches focal lengths to emphasize the hopelessness of
this Mexico and the people that inhabit it. The model's identity was once all
about image and beauty, but now the billboard is blank. Iñárritu's
camera, now pulled back, gives the house the aesthetic of a tunnel - one from which
there is no end in sight. The thing is though I mentioned that
there is beauty in Iñárritu's Amores Perros and perhaps I haven't done
that justice. So I think it's worth pointing out that despite providing us
with a somewhat haunting shot of Daniel and Valeria, you can see that
the two are now truly in love... their passion for one another is no longer
cosmetic. That brings us to El Chivo the final story and the one that unites it
all. Once again Iñárritu's wide-angle haunts the audience. This time it's the
conversation between El Chivo and Gustavo, eager to murder his half-brother,
accompanied by a friend. The three talk about planning out this murder but the
wide-angle never changes. Even between establishing shots, close-ups and the
like the entire scene is shot on a wide angle. It highlights the distance between
the two in an almost fantastical manner. The short lens gives the scene
grotesque aesthetic, almost as though Iñárritu's Mexico is smiling and
applauding at this plan of murder and rage. Any hopes of communication and
community in this society is rapidly slipping away, the visuals only work to
aid that notion since a normal focal length would have appeared closer to the
characters with less of a distance to digest and view the actions of this
society through a distorted prism. The wide-angle is often a product of
contemporary cinema, and used without much power, but in the hands of Iñárritu
and his cinematographer Prieto, it immediately becomes a tool that totally
reshapes this world and story. And it effectively constructs an urban space
that is strongly unified, not in humanity, but instead violence and pervasive
danger. Amores Perros is a tough watch and a
bitter pill to swallow, but behind its powerful images is a visionary. A true
master of the camera...
Hey guys! Thanks so much for watching this video and thank you for allowing me
the chance to celebrate Hispanic Heritage Month on the channel. I just
want to let you guys know that if you head over to audiences everywhere I've
got a lot of my work featured there I've been talking about Hispanic Heritage
Month since September; we've got pieces on Miles Morales we've got pieces on
Spanish horror movies, El Mariachi, Robert Rodriguez, Hispanic filmmakers you should
know... just a whole bunch of stuff so honestly if you want to check that out
I'll leave a link in the description I'll put something up on the screen now...
Also if you want to support the channel on Patreon, I can no longer put up
annotations because YouTube's being a dickhead again and now creators can't
really put up their annotations of patreon... it's a long story so if you want
to support the channel the link's now in the description and... yeah... thanks for watching!