Dir. Carlos Sorin, 2004, Argentina/Spain, 98 mins, Subtitles
Cast: Juan Villegas, Walter Donado, Rosa Valsecchi, Mariela Diaz
Along with directors such as Pablo Trapero, Carlos Sorin has helped to cultivate a trend in Latin American cinema that could be best described as neo-realist. Like his previous film Historias Mínimas (2002), Bombón El Perro is shot on location (the beautiful and dusty expanses of Patagonia), with non-professional actors (in effect the actors are playing themselves: Juan Villegas plays Juan Villegas), and tells a story of the downtrodden and out-of-luck during the current economic and political slump. But while Sorin truthfully presents the struggles and hardships of his characters, there is a great deal of optimism and joy to be found in this film.
Villegas (known as ‘Coco’ to his friends) is an out of work mechanic trying in vain to make a living selling expertly handcrafted knives. Always taking knock-backs and disappointments with a calm smile on his face, Villegas goes out of his way to be pleasant and helpful to others. When he aids a girl with a broken down car she pays him by giving him a dog, a huge pure-bred Dogo Argentino called Bombón. Too polite to refuse, Villegas takes him home and soon finds that the dog brings him financial luck – firstly, he is offered a job as a security guard, and then with the help of a veteran dog trainer (Donado), the chance to enter Bombón into the lucrative world of dog shows.
Bombón El Perro is a charming, gentle and at times very funny film. The pairing of the diminutive harmless Villegas and the hulking mass of Bombón provides the film with some of its funniest moments. The two of them sitting in the front of the car tentatively eyeing each other up is performed with some of the best comic timing seen in a long time. The connection between the two of them is also represented by Villegas’ almost masochistic walk-over gentleness and Bombón’s inability to perform when hired to perform ‘stud-services’.
Villegas’ performance is an absolute joy, his wide-eyed innocence and charm fills every moment of the film with a sympathetic hook. The drama of the film is almost entirely confined to whether the other characters are duping him or not. The over-enthusiastic Donado cuts a giant friendly figure whose intentions may not be as clear-cut as they seem; a night-club singer (Valsecchi) Villegas has a fancy for may actually be only talking to him out of sympathy rather than any emotional reciprocation; and Bombón (who actually bites Villegas’ hand in one scene) may not even care who his new owner is.
What the film does not manage to do, however, is provide any real sense of tension, leaving the entire likeability of the film on Villegas’ (and, of course, Bombón’s) shoulders. If the audience doesn’t sympathise with Villegas from the outset then the film could be in danger of having very little substance. That said there is plenty to like. Hugo Colace’s photography shows Patagonia at its dustiest and most unrelenting, and Sorin’s unobtrusive direction gives the film a sense of realism and honesty. Plus, there are some surprises along the way. Most memorably (for one reason or another) is the scene after Bombón goes missing, when Villegas searches for him, that brings to mind a Rocky-esque moment of glory.
Angus Macdonald
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