Review of Amores Perros (2000) by Robyn N — 14 Feb 2013

An astonishing film from Mexican director Alejandro González Iñárritu, "Amores Perros" packs a complex emotional wallop that rivals "Traffic" or Tarantino's "Pulp Fiction" -- and the fact that it's Iñárritu's first film makes it even more remarkable. Its dark and disturbing--an almost surrealist tone that escalates it high above the usual film laced with carnage. Iñárritu doesn't present Mexico City as a tourist attraction with exotic locales. Written by Guillermo Arriaga, the film lies in the belly of the underworld--a rat's-eye view of a city undergoing economic upheaval. The political angle doesn't exactly leap off the screen, and it doesn't have to. But circumstances are dire--an environment where only the strong survive.

Structured as a triptych, "Amores Perros" opens with a speeding car racing through the streets. Its backseat cargo is a wounded dog -- not the last you'll see, either. Its driver is a shrieking mess of blood, sweat and tears. His name is Octavio (Gael Garcia Bernal), and his car is making a getaway from a dogfight gone deadly. But before we get a whiff of what precipitated it, there's a crash. A narrative rewind then takes us back a few days, to when Octavio has hatched a plan to run off with his brother's girlfriend. "Amores Perros" interlaces three distinct tales around this single event, and then plays fast and loose with structure and narrative to fill in the befores and afters.

There's slum kid Octavio (Bernal), who, with a friend, enters his hulking rottweiler Cofi in the local dog fights. He's also in love with his abusive brother Ramiro's (Pérez) wife (Bauche), and begs her to come away with him to the coast to open up a storefront using his dog fight winnings. Then there's the gorgeous model Valeria (Toledo) and her magazine editor lover Daniel (Guerrero) -- the aforementioned car crash acts as a terrible proving ground (for better or worse) for their romance. Finally, there's a disheveled vagrant -- El Chivo, the goat -- played by legendary Mexican character actor Echevarría, who collects the city's homeless canines and occasionally moonlights as a hitman.

"Amores Perros" at 154 minutes is a heavy, prolonged story-- rich with characters and atmosphere. His characters are people with feelings and motives. They want love, money, and revenge. They not only love their dogs--but desperately depend on them. And it is clear that the lower classes are better at survival than the wealthy, whose confidence comes from their possessions, not their fortitude. It is the work of a born filmmaker-- you can sense his passion as he plunges into melodrama, coincidence, sensation, and violence.

"Amores Perros" has much more going on in its multi-layered plot--but the less viewers know going in, the better off they're likely to be. Forewarning however: The film's portrayal of the brutal world of back alley dogfighting, and a way of life in their culture, is utterly realistic, appalling, and difficult to watch. Those averse to the sight of dead and dying canines should at the very least be prepared to cover their eyes. As with everything else in his film, Iñárritu's camera doesn't flinch from the mundane cruelties of the street. Entirely apart from the remarkable narrative, "Amores Perros" is a triumph on virtually every conceivable front. Rodriego Prieto's cinematography is unique to each storyline.

Iñárritu feverishly works to earn the existentialist melodrama that closes the film. He's daring you: Can you see beneath life's luridness? Admittedly, this violent, ruthless film is not going to be to everyone's taste. But for those willing to submit to its unrelenting misery, will be rewarded substantially.