UN AÑO SIN AMOR falls under the category of stories where a marginalized character remains passive throughout his or her plight, and very little seems to come out of the experience. Pablo Perez, an aspiring poet who lives with his aunt in the Buenos Aires of 1996 -- the date is beyond me, the movie looks and feels at least fifteen, even twenty years older than its time period -- is suffering from HIV, refuses a new treatment that could save his life, has what seems to be an open-ended relationship with a former lover, has had failed encounters with men due to his status (at the time it was an unspoken thing, at least in Latin American countries) and as of late has decided to venture into the delicate subculture of the BDSM lifestyle.
Of course, like anyone who knows nothing of a subject matter, Pablo does not understand that he has contacted a suavely demanding master who abuses his own power and insists on being "in character" at all times. (This is an aspect that is prevalent in the leather lifestyle where there are men who, while on the 'top' end of the spectrum, create an ego about themselves and decide that any potential lover is a 'slave', while the ones who are on the 'bottom' spectrum are people who genuinely want to be humiliated, told what to do, and will place themselves in situations where their safety may be in danger at the cost of being under someone else's control.) Leather, an interest that can be very liberating given a balanced understanding of what it encompasses, is made to look as ugly as possible here. The scenes, while graphic, do not arouse -- anyone might fare better with porn from Titan Media.
So Pablo, under the acquaintance of his present master, makes the mistake of falling for a cute guy. A well-meaning partner gives him a caveat, but Pablo decides to go ahead and meet the hottie. Big mistake.
Even so, this is not the worst part of the movie -- if anything, this storyline could have been a conduit for a man like Pablo to find a reaffirmation, but such a thing never happens here and he floats on with no direction. Where the movie fails is to include the family within its boundaries. Pablo is clearly a man nearing thirty; what is he still doing living with a needy aunt and depending on his father? What is the big deal about writing a memoir? All this sounds like a throwback to a time twenty-five years ago when being gay was like having cancer. And while he clearly is on the way to success, you would never know it; instead of booking a room at a hotel while the storm clears up he heads to the leather club which has become his escape.
I wanted to feel for the story, but there wasn't much for me to hold onto from the get-go. I did enjoy the first twenty minutes and its cinema-verite feel, but with characters that never bother to relate to their audience, there was little identification. Some of the trance music is indeed alienating, but the movie, without music, is already alienating in itself. It's just one of those stories that are out there, existing, without much color or life or intent, honest, but lifeless.
Of course, like anyone who knows nothing of a subject matter, Pablo does not understand that he has contacted a suavely demanding master who abuses his own power and insists on being "in character" at all times. (This is an aspect that is prevalent in the leather lifestyle where there are men who, while on the 'top' end of the spectrum, create an ego about themselves and decide that any potential lover is a 'slave', while the ones who are on the 'bottom' spectrum are people who genuinely want to be humiliated, told what to do, and will place themselves in situations where their safety may be in danger at the cost of being under someone else's control.) Leather, an interest that can be very liberating given a balanced understanding of what it encompasses, is made to look as ugly as possible here. The scenes, while graphic, do not arouse -- anyone might fare better with porn from Titan Media.
So Pablo, under the acquaintance of his present master, makes the mistake of falling for a cute guy. A well-meaning partner gives him a caveat, but Pablo decides to go ahead and meet the hottie. Big mistake.
Even so, this is not the worst part of the movie -- if anything, this storyline could have been a conduit for a man like Pablo to find a reaffirmation, but such a thing never happens here and he floats on with no direction. Where the movie fails is to include the family within its boundaries. Pablo is clearly a man nearing thirty; what is he still doing living with a needy aunt and depending on his father? What is the big deal about writing a memoir? All this sounds like a throwback to a time twenty-five years ago when being gay was like having cancer. And while he clearly is on the way to success, you would never know it; instead of booking a room at a hotel while the storm clears up he heads to the leather club which has become his escape.
I wanted to feel for the story, but there wasn't much for me to hold onto from the get-go. I did enjoy the first twenty minutes and its cinema-verite feel, but with characters that never bother to relate to their audience, there was little identification. Some of the trance music is indeed alienating, but the movie, without music, is already alienating in itself. It's just one of those stories that are out there, existing, without much color or life or intent, honest, but lifeless.