You
have to give the Chilean auteur Raul Ruiz credit for being so admirably
prolific in death. Night Across the Street released shortly after his demise, whereas Ruiz’s wife and frequent
collaborator Valeria Sarmiento used his pre-production work to helm The Lines of Wellington, taking sole
directorial credit. His “latest” film is more of a rediscovery. Unlike suspiciously
posthumous novels released years after the supposed author’s death, Ruiz helmed
these satirical interconnected vignettes at the peak of his powers in 1990, so
Sarmiento only had to edit them together per his intentions. The hardest part
was finding the lost film of the experimental workshop sessions. Your feelings
on experimental workshops will be a strong indicator of how much or how little
you will enjoy Ruiz’s The Wandering Soap
Opera when it opens today in New York.
Soap Opera was filmed in
1990, when Ruiz returned to Chile during the early days of the democratic reforms.
Not surprisingly, there are political references littered throughout the film,
but many will be stubbornly murky for outsiders to interpret. On the other
hand, most of the comedy sending up the conventions and clichés of telenovelas
is easy to get. Essentially, the figures we see on screen are mostly characters
on telenovelas, but some are telenovela characters who are watching other telenovelas
characters. In one case, the telenovela is even interrupted by an actress
asking the characters how she could get cast to be on their show.
This
all sort of gives the film a Russian doll structure, but it lacks the Borgesian
bravura of Guy Maddin’s The Forbidden Room or even Ruiz’s masterful Mysteries of Lisbon. It also logically follows that some mini-arcs will be stronger
than others. By far the funniest sequence chronicles an endless cycle of rival
leftist rebels killing each other and issuing stilted statements, before getting
gunned down in turn. However, there are several sequences involving overwrought
middle-aged characters (often former political exiles) sitting around parlors exchanging
purple dialogue that start to blend together.
Not
surprisingly, there is an off-the-cuff raggedness to Wandering that is part of its charm. It was a time of change. Ruiz
and his cast and crew were obviously delighted to have the opportunity to work together
and address issues of exile, resistance, and religion openly. It is just
somewhat surprising they did not have more to say.
Even
though it only runs a modest 78 minutes, a little of Wandering goes a long way. After 40 minutes, most viewers will get
everything there is to get. There are amusing moments sprinkled throughout, but
it is definitely a decidedly uneven viewing experience. Those with mainstream
tastes and preferences should be strongly cautioned: The Wandering Soap Opera is only for patrons of the avant-garde who
will forgive its excesses for the sake of its politics. Recommended for the
one-percent of the population that loves to use the term “one-percent”
derisively, The Wandering Soap Opera
opens today (5/17) in New York, at Anthology Film Archives.
