LA PLAYA DC C+
Colombia France Brazil
(90 mi) 2012 ‘Scope
d: Juan Andrés Arango Garcia
A dour and stylistically downbeat film without an ounce of sentimentality
shot on the streets of Bogotá, Columbia, where La Playa is one of the poorest
neighborhoods, inhabited by black or dark skinned Colombians, a nation with the
third largest Afro-Colombian population in the western hemisphere after North
America and Brazil, where most are concentrated in northwest coastal areas. Common to each is a disconnection from their
past histories and culture, much of it forgotten or erased in the push for
modernity, as many encounter a noticeable degree of racial discrimination and
prejudice, a holdover from the Colonial era where African slaves were brought
into Colombia by the Spaniards in the 16th century to replace the dwindling
indigenous population, where their labor was an essential component of the
gold mining industry and the sugar cane plantations. Afro-Colombians have been historically absent
from high level government positions, and many of the original coastal
settlements have also been targeted for displacement by armed guerrilla
militias in Colombia’s continuing internal conflicts over control of the
illegal cocaine markets, leading to an influx migrating into urban areas since
the 1970’s. This film marks the debut of
this 35-year old white Colombian director currently living in Montreal, Canada
who attempts to capture the rhythms and evocative atmosphere of Bogotá’s
concrete jungles. If restless, hand-held camera shots capturing
the back of someone’s head as they continually walk through city streets is a
particular source of aggravation, this would not be a film for you, as this
cinematic style has been perfected by the Dardenne brothers in films like
ROSETTA (1999) and THE SON (2002), and seems to be the shot of choice in this
film, much of which is wordless with first time, non-professional actors who
are relatively inexpressive.
The coming-of-age story concerns a single family with three
brothers whose father was killed years ago in their hometown of Buenaventura on
the Pacific Coast, perhaps Colombia’s deadliest city, plagued by a history of
drug trafficking violence and the presence of guerrilla and paramilitary
groups, where it is now the center of Colombia’s cocaine trade. But in this film, it is the recurrent image
of tropical flashbacks where they spent a peaceful and idyllic childhood, often
sitting next to a flowing river surrounded by heavy vegetation, with their
mother braiding their hair and weaving patterns onto their scalps, an old custom
from slavery times, claiming they are maps to help the men find their way home. These flashbacks are a connection to their
pasts, often accompanied by traditional chants, as part of the African Diaspora
often centers on various hair styles.
In an opening sequence, 13-year old Tomás (Luis Carlos Guevara) is seen
wandering through the city, hiking straight up into the lush foliage of the
mountains where he settles down and draws, often seen later in town doodling on
flat building surfaces. At home with his
mother, Tomás abruptly rejects the offer that her husband may have a job for
him working security, claiming that’s a “kiss-ass” job, as his younger brother
Jairo (Andrés Murillo), who’s been missing for months, involved with drug
gangs, shows up on the doorstep. But no
sooner does he arrive than his stepfather kicks him back out again, as he
doesn’t need dope found in his house, not with a newborn baby and the
possibility of having a future family of his own. When Tomás defends him, he’s kicked out as
well, leaving the boys to fend for themselves on the street, where they are
often seen getting hassled in random stops by the police, each time checking
their ID’s against outstanding police records,
By the next day, however, Tomás finds his older brother,
Chaco (James Solis), who has served time in prison and was recently deported by
Canada. Chaco believes their only hope
is heading back north, having no loyalty to his family or any real connection
to his surroundings anymore, but he does offer Tomás a bed in his rented
room. Wandering the streets, there is a
girl working in the mall that catches his eye, giving her a quick kiss before hanging
out as an apprentice barber, watching guys give ghetto style haircuts, using
clippers and razor blades, discovering he may have the talent as well,
especially creating original designs.
But he and his brother are escorted out of the upscale mall by security
guards, exactly why Chaco wants to leave town as quickly as possible. Jairo is addicted to crack cocaine, owing a
huge debt to drug dealers after smoking what he was supposed to sell, so he
spends all of his days in hiding, hoping they never find him. In this desolate environment, the director,
through Tomás, weaves his way through a gritty urban landscape, seemingly falling
through the hidden cracks. While there’s
not a compelling drama or even much human interest to hold the audience’s
attention, told with such an aloof and unaffected manner, nonetheless this part
of the world is largely unseen in the world of cinema or by the rest of the
world, and the understated, social realist style allows the audience’s eyes and
ears to intrude into these lives for a few brief moments. Not entirely successful, where the sound
design feels poorly designed overall, but the scene of the film may be watching
Tomás in a blue-tinged Afro-Colombian nightclub where dancers bump and grind to
their own hip hop music. But no lasting
connections are made, as everything has a restless and fleeting quality to it,
where one’s destiny often happens purely by accident, getting arrested, being
in the wrong place at the wrong time, or suddenly finding the right path, even
if it’s only for a moment, where at least it feels like there’s a chance. In this bleak existence, that’s all you ever
get.
