Mariano, a lone man living in a squalid apartment (in a possibly
post-apocalyptic near future, but nothing is explained), invites a young brother
and sister to live with him, in return for helping him turn the flat into some
kind of cave like dwelling. Mariano, who has manipulative, Charles Manson like
tendencies, encourages the pair to lose their inhibitions (starting with that
outmoded idea that siblings should never do the nasty with each other) and go
through various degradations for him. Mariano is killed, only to be reborn for
no specific reason, and the brother and sister pair eventually turn to murder
as they cast off any remaining vestiges of morality.
“There’s no such thing as love. Only demonstrations of love” says Mariano at one point.
Well we get quite a few (real) demonstrations of this in the course of We Are the Flesh (aka Tenemos La Carne), the debut feature
from Mexican director Emiliano Rocha Minter, as well as ponderous dialogue,
copious nudity, and a lot of primal screaming.
I have no idea what most of it’s about. My guess would have been that
the whole thing is some impenetrable social satire on Mexican society (although
the 26-year-old Minter has rejected this idea during interviews – in fact even
he doesn’t really profess to know what’s going on).
The closest thematic comparison I could offer to assist any
appreciation of We Are the Flesh would
be Claude Faraldo’s dialogue free 1973 movie Themroc, in which a middle aged worker smashes up his flat, howls
at his neighbours and has a relationship with his sister. And indeed there is a
strong comparison between Michel Piccoli’s completely unhinged performance in
that film and Noé Hernández’s as Mariano; he also reminded me of the Mexican
director José Mojica Marins’ Coffin Joe character (especially the 2008 film Embodiment of Evil, where Joe aka Zé do
Caixão encourages his disciples to give in to their wildest urges).
But if
Hernández could be described as brave in his acting, the performances of Diego
Gamaliel and particularly Maria Evoli, as the brother and sister, have to be
seen to be believed. Not only are they frequently naked, but they indulge in
real sex acts (one wonder whether Minter has possibly seen any Gaspar Noé
movies), a lot of slimy clambering about, and in one scene Evoli pees direct to
camera.
While this does feel like a now rather outdated attempt to
shock the audience, it is directed with some flair and the art direction, with
the flat gradually becoming a beautifully lit womb-like cavern, is very
impressive for a film presumably with a limited budget. But while the movie starts
off reasonably coherently, by the end, with its baffling final scenes, this
writer was totally lost. I’m sure the director would be happy with that
reaction, but unfortunately I found it an opaque, quite tiresome viewing
experience which isn’t as shocking as it would like to be.
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