Review of Amores Perros (2000) by Parker M — 21 Dec 2010

3.5 Stars out of 4.

Calling Amores Perros poignant does not justify its effect. Translating "Amores Perros" simply into "Love's A Bitch" does not indicate the pun hidden beneath either. These are about people, yes, but also about their relationship with dogs - the bitch. I wouldn't say that Inarritu's fascination with puppies makes this film a masterwork, because there are only so many ways a director can transcend the purpose of canines.

But there is much more to Amores Perros making it more than just about a conceited motif. These are people, varying from lower, middle, to upper class Mexicans who are influenced by (literally) a point of impact. This involves a car accident, an event that acts like a catalyst to some and a resolution to others. Inarritu does spend time intertwining all the stories in a plotting way (as he did somehow better in Babel) but he tells one story at a time, then concludes at the last perfect tick. This film moves like clockwork and goes by effortlessly - in 153 intriguing minutes.

The first segment involves a middle class family: Octavio (Gael García Bernal) and Susana (Vanessa Bauche) have a slight affection, made Platonic due to the reckless and violent fiery of Susana's husband and Octavio's brother, Ramiro (Marco Pérez). The two have a baby, who Ramiro neglects impulsively. Their relationship is in shambles, but Ramiro steals to pretend they are well off. Octavio's motivation is simple: he wants Susana to run away with him. But how? And with what money? Octavio decides to put the family dog into an illegal, very sordid dog fighting league, where I wish Inarritu forced us to question to scruples of Octavio's actions, but is more intent on this 'dog fighting' ordeal to move the story forward.

An upper class couple Daniel (Álvaro Guerrero) and Valeria (Goya Toledo) move into a sumptuous apartment. Daniel is a magazine publisher who left his wife for Valeria, a renowned supermodel. Their problems develop insidiously: Valeria is struck by Octavio's car, when he was fleeing some gangsters. She survives, but has a broken leg, tarnishing her beauty. But the biggest (which should be insignificant) problem awaits: their dog, Ritchie, jumps after a ball into a hole in the floor. This snowballs into disaster. To simply save a dog, Daniel and Valeria endure something more personal and intimate, which to us seems like their romantic downfall.

There is also a rugged homeless man named El Chivo (Emilio Echevarría), who was put in jail for guerrilla conspiracy. His life is in ruins. He has a daughter and he tries to live a life pretending he is a ghost. But he is human; he wants to materialize. He needs to have a bite, not just a bark. He is hired to kill a businessman and then to kill a man's partner and half-brother and that leads to a final showdown where Amores Perros finally encloses on something moral.

This film is very in your face and may be too tough to handle for some. We deal with bad people in Amores Perros, and some who are good, but are too flawed to have any affection. What Inarritu nails most are the characters. We get a sense of who wants to act good, but there is so much wrongdoing around them, that the film recognizes that the best deed the characters can do is admit their shortcomings. Inarritu is not too concerned with an optimism in Amores Perros, which could be taking the easy way out, but you do not denounce it. Here is a director with as much curiosity about his characters than us. His structure centres on the beginning of the end, so it is as if the director is discovering everything at the same pace as the audience.

Innaritu is a natural filmmaker. His films are vigorous, conflicting, exciting, and most importantly, moving. It's not that Amores Perros never pot boils - the first 30 minutes does take time to master the material - but then the film becomes poignant and finally truthful. By the end, we feel the structure of the film was made useful, because the crash united no one but pointed them in other aimless, foreboding directions.

I think dogs are a great, yet duplicitous plot device. They have such an innocence and benignity that even when they growl, that angry reaction seems more a consequence of the human characters around them. Puppies demand our sympathies, humans repel it. Dogs make us care, make everything twice as important. But, I assure you, Amores Perros is not emotional subterfuge; it is something very special. This is because Inarritu is equally concerned about the characters and the world they are quarrelling in.

That leaves me to my original inquiry: Can Amores Perros be best referred to as "Love's A Bitch"? Inarritu claims that is a false rendition, and it may exactly be. There is more to this film than love. Inarritu's world is far from lovable at any rate. The title then must be the bitter irony of it all.