Entity: Found Footage Sight-Seeing in Peru

Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition, especially not last year in Peru. Of course, surprise was one of its chief weapons. A group of Peruvian college students are about to be deeply shocked by the Inquisition and a vengeful spirit still holding what you might call a grudge. Found footage gets the Latin American Catholic treatment in Eduardo Schuldt’s Entity (trailer here), which releases today on DVD from Omnibus Entertainment.

Why do college professors keep assigning documentaries as their final class projects? Inevitably, somebody decides to lock themselves in the old spooky house where a serial killer used to live, awakening the evil that lurks within. In this case, Carla’s initial proposal starts out more observational and less participatory. She proposes a film about online reaction videos: posted footage of everyday people responding to disturbing imagery. Not surprisingly, her mostly ex-boyfriend Joshua and his buds, the aggressively annoying Benjamin and the nebbish Lucas, readily agree.

At first, it is just about the people watching. However, when all the documented viewers of a particularly unsettling reaction video turn out to be recently deceased, the fab four decide they should track down the video they were so upset by. With the help of the elder brother of the fellow Carla just happened to know from summer break, the kids follow their trail to one of the spookiest looking cemeteries you will ever see. Technically, they find the seriously evil Macguffin in the adjoining church’s archive. That would be what looks like Super 8 film of a Spanish Inquisitor’s torture session, circa early 1500, which most likely has something to do with the malevolent forcing stalking Joshua and his friends.

The whole found footage thing has gone well past the point of been-there-done-that, but the massively creepy, baroquely sinister mausoleums of the Cementerio Museo Presbítero Matías Maestro take the film to a much higher level. Frankly, if you cannot scare viewers there, you have no hope of making it in this genre.

Schuldt makes those gimme putts and also wrings a lot of chills out of the university’s not so well lit library. His locations are eerily effective, but the cast is just so-so. They are all largely playing stock characters, but at least Daniella Mendoza gets to do some memorable stuff down the stretch as Carla. Together, the kids bicker relentlessly, but it is never remotely as sharply written as They’re Watching.

Yes, there is definitely something out there nursing its resentments against all Catholics. The good news is our Buddhist friends are completely off the hook for this one. It isn’t perfect (some of those off-screen screams sound awkwardly fake), but it proves just how far atmosphere and location can go in horror films. In fact, viewers will either be eager to visit the Presbítero Matías Maestro or will avoid it like the plague after watching Entity. Schuldt’s character building is nothing special, but the design team and location really make the film. Recommended for serious horror fans, Entity is now available on regular DVD from Film Movement’s Omnibus Entertainment.

Face of the Devil: Welcome to the Amazon Lodge

The Puma Rinri Amazon Lodge must be the beneficiary of the best or worst product placement ever. That is their logo plain as day, right when the end credits start to roll. Clearly, most of the film was shot there and it does indeed make the resort look enticing. The scenery is spectacular and the rooms are fab, but it is a bit of a drawback that the only observable employee is a practitioner of the dark satanic arts. Frankly, it would probably still be worth visiting, but that devil worshipper is not the guests’ biggest problem in Frank Pérez-Garland’s Peruvian horror flick, Face of the Devil (trailer here), which releases on DVD today in the UK.

Lucero’s father is a tad on the protective side, but understandably so, all things considered. Years ago, a demon possessed her mother, forcing him to exorcise it the hard way. Both father and daughter still carry the emotional scars from that day. Nevertheless, the old man finally relents, agreeing to let Lu join her BF and his hard-partying pals on their Andean getaway.

They certainly get away from it all staying at the high mountain inn, including things like emergency medical services. C’mon, what could go wrong, except maybe falling prey to the Tunche. According to their spooky tales poolside tales, the Tunche is a shapeshifting demon who stalks the mountainside. If you hear his piercing whistle, you basically know your butt is toast. However, Face of the Devil is probably a more evocative title than Whistle of the Tunche. Regardless, you had better believe he is real, because the old caretaker readily vouches for his existence.

In any event, the revelers from Lima are all considerate enough to let the Tunche stalk them in their swimwear. Aside from the schlubby Mateo, they all have fine beach bods. However, they also have real relationships that raise the stakes somewhat. Granted, Face is about as predictable as most horror films, but screenwriter Vanessa Saba brings Lucero’s backstory full circle somewhat cleverly. She is also pretty creepy appearing as Lu’s mother in the flashback sequences.

Vania Accinelli is perfectly presentable as Lu, but Nicolás Galindo and Carla Arriola develop some surprisingly compelling chemistry as Mateo the plugger and the curvy Paola, whom he so obviously carries a torch for. However, the real star of film is the exclusive mountain retreat (it is up there with The Shining’s Overlook Hotel). If you were an ancient elemental demon you would want to stalk victims there too. In contrast, the Tunche is supposedly a shapeshifter, but he is mostly invisible throughout the film. At least he is not especially sadistic, preferring to dispatch his prey quickly and efficiently, which is rather considerate of viewers’ tolerance as well.

Location is often key in horror films, so Face’s exotic backdrop really is key to its mojo. Largely foreswearing gore, Pérez-Garland builds up the suspense rather nicely, while cinematographer Roberto Maceda Kohatsu and art director Cecilia Herrera give the production a real quality look. Although not hugely ambitious (aside from the location shooting), Pérez-Garland gets the job done. Recommended for genre fans, Face of the Devil is now available on DVD in the UK from Jinga Films.

TIFF ’15: Magallanes

If Judd Hirsch’s Alex Rieger had been a member of a military death squad, he would be the spitting image of Harvey Magallanes. Rumpled and sad-eyed, Magallanes is haunted by ghosts from his past. When one of them unknowingly steps into his cab, he hatches a scheme to rectify an old wrong. From that point on, nothing goes right in Salvador del Solar’s Magallanes (trailer here), which screens during the 2015 Toronto International Film Festival.

Despite his remorse, everything Magallanes does reminds him of his tour in Ayacucho. He shares a cab with his old gung-ho comrade Milton and serves as the volunteer driver of their former Colonel, whose memory has been lost to the ravages of senility—heavy-handed metaphor alert. Then one day, Celina hails his cab. While still a pre-teen, the Colonel abducted her during a raid held her as his personal concubine for months. Clearly, she made quite an impression on Magallanes, but she does not recognize the now bearded and graying former commando.

Discovering her desperate need for money, Magallanes hatches a dubious scheme to blackmail the Colonel’s prominent son with an incriminating photo of his father. Of course, the entitled Augusto is not about to take a shakedown lying down. Yet, it is Magallanes, his father’s trusted driver, whom he entrusts to coordinate the entrapping pay-off with the police.

Magallanes has the makings of a crackerjack noir, but del Solar is too preoccupied with old score-settling to maintain the tension of the first extended cat-and-mouse sequence. There are just too many scenes of Magallanes stewing like Raskolnikov in his garret. The film’s version of the truth is also highly selective. Even though the Peruvian Truth and Reconciliation Commission was clearly biased against Alberto Fujimori (or “Chinochet” as his critics racistly referred to him), it admitted far more atrocities were committed by the Maoist Shining Path and MRTA terrorists. Needless to say, you wouldn’t know that from del Solar’s screenplay.

Still, Damian Alcazar broods like a champion as the titular cabbie and Magaly Solier has a truly haunting screen presence. The decision to not subtitle Celina’s big climatic speech in her indigenous Quechua is also oddly effective. There are inspired bits distributed here and there throughout Magallanes, but the whole is just too clunky and blinkered in its perspective. Frankly, del Solar was better represented last year at TIFF with his work as the lead actor in Javier Fuentes-León’s The Vanished Elephant. A disappointment overall, Magallanes screens again today (9/17) and tomorrow (9/18) at this year’s TIFF.

PSIFF ’15: NN

Where can you hide an extra body where it won’t be noticed? A mass grave might work, if you have access. According to his solid intelligence, a forensic anthropologist knows with certainty there is a surplus corpse at his latest excavation, but identifying it will be the agonizingly tricky part. The past becomes a torturous burden in Héctor Gálvez’s NN, which screens this weekend at the 2015 Palm Springs International Film Festival.

Fidel’s team had multiple sources identifying the location of the grave and its occupants. The man in the blue sweater was not supposed to be there. There are no papers or distinctive markings on the skeletal remains, except for a photo of a woman in her twenties. Graciela is a presumed widow, who believes the body might be her long missing husband. She gets some of its circumstantial details correct, but others do not quite match up. Nevertheless, she holds out hope for closure through a DNA test.

Even though Fidel is not a touchy-feely sort of person, he forms an ambiguous bond with the haunted woman. In some respects, they are kindred spirits, tilting at windmills, even though her grown son and his superiors in the justice bureaucracy would prefer to let the past stay dead.

While NN (a form of shorthand for “John Doe”) carries all sorts of implicit criticism of the Fujimori era, it does not belabor its political points (and fudges its dates, presumably for the sake of ambiguity). Still, Fidel’s team could have just as easily investigated some Shining Path atrocities as well. After all, there is a reason Fujimori’s get-tough policies were so popular. Were he on the ballot today, he would probably carry a sizable plurality, if not an outright majority.

Regardless, part of NN’s virtue is its quietness. Gálvez never hits the audience over the head, preferring to let them simmer in murky intrigue. Yet, despite its reserve, NN should not be dismissed as Slow Cinema. There is real plot here, entailing serious stakes. As Fidel, Paul Vega scrupulously shuns histrionics. Nonetheless, he is so tightly wound and deeply repressed, he looks like he might shatter if he tipped over. While Antonieta Pari’s Graciela goes more for the gut, it is still a rigorously disciplined, exquisitely dignified performance.

Various descriptions make NN sound like CSI as reconceived by Samantha Power, but it is more of an examination of grief and the long term effects of living with death. It is a well put together package, nicely underscored by Pauchi Sasaki’s subtle musical cues. Still, some wider context would have given it greater perspective and resonance. Recommended for its world weary restraint, NN screens tomorrow (1/2) and Monday (1/5) during the 2015 PSIFF.

TIFF ’14: The Vanished Elephant

Edo Celeste’s bestselling sleuth Felipe Aranda is supposed to be the good guy, but he might be more akin to Stephen King’s Dark Half. The man who posed for a series of pictures inspired by Celeste’s books seems to take the role way too seriously, especially when the author hints he may soon end the popular series. Celeste begins to suspect the man of crimes both new and old in Javier Fuentes-León’s The Vanished Elephant (trailer here), which screens during the 2014 Toronto International Film Festival.

The one case the ex-cop turned mystery novelist never cracked was the 2007 disappearance of his fiancée Celia Espinoza. The timing was particular unfortunate, occurring during an earthquake that rocked coastal Peru. It turns out it also coincided with the presumed death of Mara de Barclay’s first husband. Celeste was blissfully unaware of this fact until the remarried Barclay had her strong arm servants arrange a meeting. She was rather baffled to receive an envelope addressed to Celeste bearing her supposedly late husband’s handwriting.

The assortment of cryptic photographs inside does not immediately stimulate Celeste’s curiosity, but he will get to them in good time. However, he is instantly struck by Rafael Pineda, the tough talking model, who is a perfect dead ringer for the Aranda Celeste always imagined. As he investigates the shady Pineda, events start to parallel his Aranda novels, including the one he is currently writing.

How much viewers will enjoy Elephant depends on what they value most in mystery-thrillers, the structure and conventions or the trappings and atmosphere. Fuentes-León creates a terrifically moody vibe, but the film evolves into a series of increasingly intricate Lynchian mind teasers, which are quite clever if you enjoy that sort of gamesmanship. More conventional audiences should be warned, Celeste will never gather together his suspects to give them the “I suppose you’re wondering why I’ve called you all together” talk.

Nevertheless, there are really intriguing clues dispersed throughout the film, such as the titular subplot revolving around a pachyderm shaped rock formation in Paracas that supposedly really crumbled into the ocean during the earthquake, but remains unconfirmed by google. There are similarly strange bits and pieces that stick in your head even more than grand reveal it all builds towards.

Salvador del Solar might set a new world’s record for jaded world-weariness as the haggard Celeste. He convincingly carries himself like an ex-cop and looks reasonably intelligent doing some reckless things. Likewise, Lucho Cáceres projects the right sort of vague, hard to define menace as Pineda (or should that be Aranda).

While Fuentes-León’s feature debut Undertow was quite a nice little film, nothing about it would lead viewers to expect a follow-up like Elephant. He smoothly stages some remarkably complicated scenes, while maintaining a satisfyingly noir vibe. Cinematographer Mauricio Vidal gives it all a soft, mysterious look, while art director Susana Torres provides a lot of cool stuff, like a painting of the Vanished Elephant. It all makes for quite an effectively strange film. Recommended for mystery fans with a taste for postmodernism, The Vanished Elephant screens again tomorrow (9/8) and next Sunday (9/14) during this year’s TIFF.

The Brothers Vega’s Octubre

October is a time of hope and pageantry in Lima. Throngs of faithful join the procession celebrating the Lord of Miracles (or “Black Christ”) mural. Clemente is not one of them. Simply known as “the pawnbroker’s son,” he likes to keep things on a strictly cash basis. Obviously substandard father material, Clemente is naturally bit taken aback to find a little bundle of joy waiting for him in Daniel and Diego Vega’s Octubre (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Clemente lives his dreary life by choice. Loaning small sums to his economically disenfranchised neighbors at rates approaching usury, he allows himself only one real luxury: prostitutes. Though he publically denies it, Clemente never really seems to doubt the baby is his. However, he intends to return her to her mother of ill repute, as soon as he can find her. Until then, he hires Sofia, a devout client, to care for the foundling.

The middle-aged Sofia has given up on everything but hope. Yet, she starts to get certain ideas living in his Spartan flat, but Clemente is more concerned with passing off a counterfeit bill he mistakenly accepted. Frankly, he has plenty stashed in his oven, including the savings of Don Fico, a homeless eccentric planning smuggle his catatonic common-law wife out of Lima’s charity hospital.

It sounds like a horrendously contrived sitcom, but the Brothers Vega largely play it straight, maintaining a consistently dark and gritty tone throughout. This is a seedy, naturalistic environment, perfectly suited to their aloof protagonist. They do not even exploit the baby for shots of heartwarming cuteness. Ironically, Octubre’s ostensive subject matter could dissuade those who would most appreciate it, for fear of saccharine sweetness. Have no such concerns, this film is a perfectly respectable downer.

In a performance of great integrity, Bruno Odar conveys something tragically human in Clemente without making any concessions to likability. Likewise, Gabriela Velásquez takes a decidedly unglamorous turn as Sofia. They are both deliberately understated and completely believable as a result.

Though the Vegas present Catholicism in rather ambiguous contexts, they at least resist the temptation of gratuitous cheap shots. However, they never build up much momentum or achieve a payoff of appreciable substance. Essentially, they provide a showcase for their two unlikely leads. Cold but oddly affecting, Octubre opens this Friday (5/6) in New York at the Angelika Film Center.

ND/NF ’11: Octubre

October is a time of hope and pageantry in Lima. Throngs of faithful join the procession celebrating the Lord of Miracles (or “Black Christ”) mural. Clemente is not one of them. Simply known as “the pawnbroker’s son,” he likes to keep things on a strictly cash basis. Obviously substandard father material, Clemente is naturally bit taken aback to find a little bundle of joy waiting for him in Daniel and Diego Vega’s Octubre (trailer here), which screens during the 2011 New Directors/New Films, co-presented by MoMA and the Film Society of Lincoln Center.

Clemente lives his dreary life by choice. Loaning small sums to his economically disenfranchised neighbors at rates approaching usury, he allows himself only one real luxury: prostitutes. Though he publically denies it, Clemente never really seems to doubt the baby is his. However, he intends to return her to her mother of ill repute, as soon as he can find her. Until then, he hires Sofia, a devout client, to care for the foundling.

The middle-aged Sofia has given up on everything but hope. Yet, she starts to get ideas living in his Spartan flat, but Clemente is more concerned with passing off a counterfeit bill he mistakenly accepted. Frankly, he has plenty stashed in his oven, including the savings of Don Fico, a homeless eccentric planning smuggle his catatonic common-law wife out of Lima’s charity hospital.

It sounds like a horrendously contrived sitcom, but the Brothers Vega largely play it straight, maintaining a consistently dark and gritty tone throughout. This is a seedy, naturalistic environment, perfectly suited to their aloof protagonist. They do not even exploit the baby for shots of heartwarming cuteness. Ironically, Octubre’s subject matter could dissuade those who would most appreciate it, for fear of saccharine sweetness. Have no such concerns, this film is a perfectly respectable downer.

In a performance of great integrity, Bruno Odar conveys something tragically human in Clemente without making any concessions to likability. Likewise, Gabriela Velásquez takes a decidedly unglamorous turn as Sofia. They are both deliberately understated and completely believable as a result.

Though the Vegas present Catholicism in rather ambiguous contexts, they at least resist the temptation of gratuitous cheap shots. However, they never build up much momentum or achieve a payoff of appreciable substance. Essentially, they provide a showcase for their two unlikely leads. Cold but oddly affecting, Octubre screens next Saturday (4/2) at the Walter Reade and the following Sunday (4/3) at MoMA as part of the 2011 ND/NF.

Peruvian Contender: Undertow

In Cabo Blanco, the villagers’ lives are intertwined with the ocean. Most definitely Catholic, they have developed their own traditions, including burial at sea. They fear those not properly laid to rest in accordance with their customs will become restless spirits. One sexually confused man has his traditional beliefs simultaneously challenged and confirmed when his furtive lover’s spirit returns to him in Javier Fuentes-León’s Undertow (trailer here), Peru’s official submission for best foreign language Oscar consideration, which opens tomorrow in New York.

Miguel Salas is a pillar of his community. He and his buxom pregnant wife Mariela are active in the church and he is popular with his fellow fishermen. He has a secret though. He has been seeing Santiago La Rosa on the down low. A painter from a family of apparent means, La Rosa is more or less open about his sexuality. Largely shunned by the villagers, he retains affectionate feelings for Cabo Blanco rooted in his happy childhood memories. Still, he really stays for Salas.

Not surprisingly, Salas is a bit conflicted about everything, but his insistence on absolute secrecy tries La Rosa’s patience. After another where-is-this-all-going argument, La Rosa dies in a swimming accident, disappearing in a titular undertow. Yet, since his body is not properly disposed of in a proper Cabo Blanco send-off, his spirit begins to haunt Salas. Promising to recover his body, Salas starts to like having La Rosa’s spirit around. Yet, even without La Rosa’s corporeal presence, town busybody start to form suspicions that lead to gossip.

Cabo Blanco looks like a wonderful place to be dirt poor. While the scenery is definitely picturesque, Fuentes-León also sets a pleasantly gentle vibe. Though Salas and La Rosa are certainly portrayed as consenting adults, Undertow is never excessively explicit. Particularly surprising for a gay-themed film, he also resists cheap Catholic bashing. At his most judgmental, Padre Juan only gives Salas a mild scolding for passing out on the beach naked in a drunken stupor (or so he assumes), which seems reasonable enough.

Of course, Undertow’s story arc is about as predictable as its “to thine own self be true” moral, but it executed with grace rather than indignation. As Salas, Bolivian Cristian Mercado combines the right macho façade with effective pathos and insecurity. However, Tatiana Astengo really lowers the emotional boom as his increasingly concerned wife.

Despite the presence of La Rosa’s ghost, Undertow largely downplays the supernatural aspects of the film, focusing more on its tight little village dynamics. Still, the vibrant cinematography of Mauricio Vidal and the appealing Latin pop songs (two of which were penned by Fuentes-León) make a quality package that could lend it an appeal beyond the obvious core audience. An ultimately forgiving film, Undertow opens tomorrow (11/26) in New York at the Cinema Village.

HFFNY: Havana Kidz & Silvio Pupo

Cuba is celebrated for its music, but it is a tough place to pursue a musical career. Just ask the subjects of two short features screened at the HFFNY Saturday, Havana Kidz II (trailer here) and Silvio Pupo: No Borders.

Cuban-American filmmaker Alberto Gonzalez is following a group of aspiring student musicians in his Havana Kidz project. Resources are definitely an issue for his subjects. In fact, Gonzalez has been trying to collect instrument donations for them, but like the students in Bruce Broder’s CHOPS, these young musicians’ enthusiasm and commitment gives one hope for music’s future. Grounded in traditional Cuban forms, they are molding their own sound by incorporating reggaeton and other more contemporary Cuban styles.

Most of the festival cut of HK2 consists of the Kidz rehearsing and preparing to cut a demo. They sound great, and there is just something refreshing about their musical exuberance. When they do talk, it is usually in conversation with each other about music. Hopefully change will come to Cuba, allowing them to better pursue their ambitions.

Also screening in the same program was Gwendolyn “GG” Geddes’ Silvio Pupo: No Borders. A talented pianist proficient in many styles, Pupo bristles when asked to perform Cuban music simply because he is Cuban. An expat, Pupo evidently found Halifax, Nova Scotia to be greener pastures than Cuba for a career in music.

At just over three minutes total running time, Borders is essentially a brief commercial for Pupo and his regular weekly gig with the Jeff Goodspeed trio at a Halifax club. As such though, it is very effective. I’ll definitely look to hear them if I’m ever in town.

Finishing the program of shorts was Alejandro Ramirez’s Some Kind of Sadness, which starts quite promisingly, recounting a little known episode of Olympic shame from the infamous 1936 games. The decidedly non-Aryan Peruvian football team battled back against the lily-white Austrians, forcing overtime, where the underdog Peruvians were able to jump out to a 4-2 lead. However, after the Austrians protested, the Olympic authorities accepted their dubious claims, ordering a rematch. The Peruvians told them to stick it in their ear and left.

If ever there was a time to rethink the Olympics, it is this year. However, rather than focus on another telling episode of Olympic shame, Sadness uses it as a metaphor for vague feelings of sadness, or frustration, or general impotence, plaguing Latin American in general, at least according to the director. He seems to try to extend the metaphor through a depressed (and depressing) American expat friend. The film does not make much sense overall, despite a powerful beginning. Overall, it was a very mixed bag of shorts, but the program introduced audiences to some undeniably talented (and young) musicians. HK2 screens again at the Bronx Museum of the Arts on 4/18 at 6:00.