Thursday 14 November 2013

Medeas


Andrea Pallaoro's Medeas shares something with Kelly Reichardt's Night Moves, apart from the fact that the landscape, in this case Southern California, plays an important supporting role in the film: It's the kind of story that doesn't reveal itself immediately (as long as you go into it not thinking about the title too much, if you do, it may hover above everything that is happening like a dark, foreboding cloud). Even in terms of placing the story in a specific time period, the points of reference are vague and confusing, so that in spite of the Walkman that the daughter uses to listen to Italian music and learn the language, her form of escape, there is an odd timelessness to the film, additionally heightened when a black and white television set enters the family home, on which, for some reason, programmes from the Forties or Fifties are on repeat. There are no phones or computers, and the details of the kitchen appliances, potentially modern, remain constantly out of focus. It seems like a deliberate effort, one that adds to the incredible intimacy of the family unit portrayed, as they all seem caught in that timeless place (the ancient car just feels that more immediate than a modern, quiet one would, the physical effort and sound of a camera that needs to be rewinded after every shot creates a completely different atmosphere, as the father takes pictures of his family in the beginning of the film).
The intimacy is the most breathtaking aspect of Medeas. In the absence of neighbours or friends, the family - father (Brían F. O'Byrne), mother (Catalina Sandino Moreno), five children including a baby, is mostly concerned with itself, without a context except each other. Additionally, the mother, Christina, is hearing-impaired, and the effort everyone makes to communicate meaningfully makes all of them seem even closer. There are sparse details about the economic situation - the father, Ennis, works as a dairy farmer, and, due to a drought that lasts until the final minutes, struggles, the daughter is secretly meeting a boy in the fields, which, judging from the father's criticism of her revealing clothes and her choice to wear make-up, would not meet his approval - but the turning point is when we follow Christina to the local gas station, where we see that she is having a passionate affair with the filling station attendant (Kevin Alejandro). Cracks start to appear, and the fragility of the idyllic situation becomes apparent. Christina is no longer attracted to Ennis, the children know about the affair and threaten to reveal it to their father, he becomes suspicious when she reveals to him that she is pregnant again, doubting that he is the father, figuring out the details of the affair quietly on his own. The quietness that seemed idyllic before suddenly becomes oppressive, and it becomes obvious that the two of them barely communicate - while the children have learned sign language, and are that much closer to their mother because of it, he struggles to make himself understood with inadequate gestures, which don't capture the full range of his emotions. Consequently, Ennis seems trapped in his inability to express himself, frustrated by the situation, and his very presence suddenly becomes threatening without being explicitly violent (apart from one outbreak at the dinner table). It's a subtle switch in mood that happens in the film, an odd sort of suspense that starts to colour every scene, the inevitable escalation of the situation becoming a constant threat.
Medeas thrives on the amazing performances by both leads - Catalina Sandino Moreno giving Christina an incredible physical presence and warmth that lights up every scene, Brían F. O'Byrne perfectly portraying the quiet change in Ennis, his face remaining forever unreadable but his anger and frustration apparent in every muscle - and the incredibly natural chemistry between the children and their parents, their complex relationships (the jealousy of the middle brother for not getting quite as much attention from either of them, the gentleness of the older son, obviously inherited from his mother). The film ends on an impressive image, a woman we've seen constantly surrounded by her family, suddenly entirely alone, walking through the grass as the desperately expected rain finally falls. 

2013, directed by Andrea Pallaoro, starring Catalina Sandino Moreno, Brían F. O'Byrne, Mary Mouser, Angel Amaral, Ian Nelson, Maxim Knight, Jake Vaughn, Kevin Alejandro, Patrick Birkett.

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