Love
On the Run
by
Howard Schumann
Though it appears doubtful that J.D. Salinger’s classic paean
to teen-age rebelliousness, The Catcher in the Rye, will ever
be filmed, Mexican director Gerardo Naranjo’s I’m
Going to Explode (Voy a Explotar) provides a
kindred spirit in the character of teenager Román, an updated
cinematic expression of Holden Caulfield’s search for authenticity
(though one with decidedly more reckless abandon). Naranjo is indebted
to the French New Wave, yet this film stands on its own as an involving
tale of two lovers on the run, never feeling derivative or redundant.
Produced by
actors Gabriel García Bernal and Diego Luna (of Y Tu Mamá
También), I’m Going to Explode rises above
its youthful flaws with energy, dark humor, and personal style, and
an expressive spontaneity that makes it a rich and deeply moving experience.
If Holden had a partner, she might have resembled 15-year-old Maru (Maria
Deschamps), a troubled outsider with a rebellious spirit. Bored and
feeling very much alone at her suburban prep school in Guanajuato, Maru
is an outsider who empties her soul each day into her diary, aching
for someone who understands her longings. Her world comes alive, however,
when she meets Román (Juan Pablo de Santiago), the disaffected
son of a well-to-do right-wing politician.
A bright, impulsive,
emotional, and unpredictable young man, Román seems to delight
in seeking his father’s attention by getting kicked out of every
school he is enrolled in. Now in the same school with Maru, they meet
at a talent show in which Román pretends to commit suicide by
hanging, and Maru feels an immediate camaraderie. She writes to a friend
that “He exists, but I also made him up,” and says that
“the best part is that he’s angry.” Román has
similar feelings for Maru, and it does not take long for the two free
spirits to plan a runaway from a world they can make little sense of.
Román, in melodramatic fashion, pretends to be abducting Maru
while flashing one of his adored guns, but the reality is less exciting.
Although they
both want their parents to think they are far away, in reality they
are hiding out in a tent on the roof of his father’s house, sneaking
downstairs to corral the necessities of life when his dad, Maru’s
mother, and sister (who have made themselves part of the rescue team),
are not at home. Fortified with plenty of wine and rock music which
they listen to with dual headphones, they are clearly having fun at
the expense of their self-involved but legitimately frightened parents
who are thrown off the trail by hysterical phone calls from Román,
replete with misinformation. In a startlingly insightful sequence, Maru
expresses her conflicts about having sex with Román, fearing
that she will lose her power over him and be taken for granted if she
“puts out” (why most Hollywood teens never think about that
is a mystery).
Like most adolescents,
one minute they express powerful emotions and seem grown up, the next
minute they are squabbling or not talking because of inconsequential
jolts to their ego. When Román and Maru do have sex, it is very
erotic because they are at first so hesitant and tentative, perhaps
the way we all were the first time. Ultimately, they steal a car with
the idea of going to Mexico City but, as it usualy is in real life,
things do not work out according to plan. Surviving an unnecessarily
melodramatic and predictable ending, I’m Going to Explode
is a film of sensual delight and pure exhilaration and Deschamps’
performance as the more mature protagonist keeps the film from descending
into juvenile hijinks.
*
According
to a certain reading of the Christian Gospels, it is likely that Jesus
was crucified not because he was leading an anti-imperialist campaign
against Rome or even that he was suspected of being the “Messiah.”
Rather, it appears that he was executed because of his enormous popularity
with the poor, especially those who had come to Jerusalem for the feast
of Passover, and its perceived threat to the status quo.
Author Terry Eagleton (New Internationalist, May, 2008) writes,
“Some aspects of the way Jesus is portrayed in these texts have
an obvious radical resonance. He is presented as homeless, property-less,
peripatetic, socially marginal, disdainful of kinfolk, without a trade
or occupation, a friend of outcasts and pariahs, averse to material
possessions, without fear for his own safety, a thorn in the side of
the Establishment and a scourge of the rich and powerful.”
Based
on Nikos Kazantzakis' powerful novel The Greek Passion, American
director Jules Dassin's 1957 French film He Who Must Die
(Celui Qui Doit Mourir) brings Christ’s radicalism to
center stage, posing the question: if Jesus returned to Earth, would
he be crucified again? This was a distinct departure for Dassin, who
was known for such film noir masterpieces as Night and the City
and had moved to France after refusing to testify before the House Un-American
Activities Committee.
The film
is now available in either VHS or DVD-R format from Learmedia.
I saw it yesterday for the first time in 48 years and the experience
was just as remarkable as it was then. It is a powerful work of art
that is unsparing in its depiction of Christian hypocrisy, skewering
those who conveniently forget about Jesus’ words about mercy,
justice, feeding the hungry, welcoming the immigrant, sheltering the
destitute and protecting the poor from the oppression of the powerful.
While its villains may be a bit overdrawn, no clearer example exists
on film of the disparity between lofty sentiments and the willingness
to do what is right regardless of personal consequences.
The film
takes place in Greece in the 1920s, when the country was occupied by
the Turks and entire villages were torn apart. On the island of Crete,
a wealthy village has reached an accommodation with its Turkish governor
(Grégoire Aslan) and is getting ready to stage its annual Passion
Play on Good Friday, dramatizing the crucifixion. To do this, the autocratic
local priest Grigoris (Fernand Ledoux) selects citizens in his village
to play the leading roles. Manolios (Pierre Vaneck), a stuttering shepherd
who works for the town’s well-to-do mayor (Gert Fröbe) is
chosen to play Jesus while the local butcher is chosen as Judas.
The
town prostitute (Melina Mercouri, later to become Dassin’s wife)
is chosen to play Mary Magdalene. Preparations for the Passion hardly
get underway when a band of impoverished villagers led by Pope Fotis
(Jean Servais) enters the streets of the village looking for food and
shelter. Fearing Turkish retaliation if they aid the starving villagers,
Grigoris and the mayor refuse requests for food and land to cultivate,
evoking the fear of cholera and sending the dispossessed villagers to
starve in the nearby hills. Some in the town, however, are sympathetic
to the fugitives, including the shepherd chosen to play Christ and the
Mayor’s son (Maurice Ronet). As the film unfolds, the Passion
Play soon becomes real and the characters play out their biblical roles
in dramatic fashion.
©2009 Howard Schumann
CineScene
