Summary
The series is an atypical, overwhelming and moving biopic of the trans woman Cristina Ortiz, a famous Spanish media character who emerged in the 90s, with a prodigious staging that crosses all genres and that links different time lines with great originality. It is also a chronicle of the gestation of the book on which she is based, of the coming of age of her author and of her relationship with her biography.
In an age where Spanish fictions strive to become products as international as they are impersonal, the series' narrative power and profoundly Andalusian grace are appreciated, inseparable from its protagonist, a Veneno always treated with respect and infinite love that viewers they will make theirs.
Review:
On the occasion of the recent death of Raffaella Carrá and browsing her videos on YouTube, I came across this film shot in Argentina in 1980, in the midst of the military dictatorship, when she was already a real success.
Carrá plays Barbara, an Italian superstar who comes to sing in a theater in Buenos Aires. At a press conference she meets a photographer, Mauro (Jorge Martínez). Soon we will see that Mauro is chased by an enigmatic trio of characters, while he is developing a romance with the diva.
It was tempting to see a movie filmed and shown during the dictatorship and try to perceive the period climate and detect challenges and meta messages queer and political. On the one hand, Bárbara is a romantic comedy where Carrá's character is a determined, independent woman who even takes up arms, playing an interesting role reversal with her heartthrob. On the other hand, why and by whom is Mauro persecuted, so that he must permanently escape or hide? Who is Mauro?
As a comedy in general and as a physical comedy, Gino Landi's film is quite elementary and the daughter of its time. With its limitations, it works best as a romantic comedy drama, with good chemistry between Carrá and Martínez. It also brings us action thriller sequences that refer us to another icon, Mrs. Peel. A curiosity is to see the playwright Rubén Szuchmacher as one of the enigmatic persecutors of Mauro.
As for the musical numbers, there are questions and challenges: to whom does Bárbara sing the enigmatic and melancholic song of the beginning in front of the Rio de la Plata? The opening number sung in English with her dancers wearing tiny and tight pants could perfectly be a video of Madonna (before Madonna) and is quite scandalous for Argentina at the time. She also has the audacity to sing the song Pedro P, where she says:
I walked alone through the streets, Taking photos of the monuments, The typical foreigner with a strange air, That runs through the entire city.
Suddenly and around a corner, A little boy calls me softly, With an innocent face and a formal air, He offers himself as a guide for the city.
Pedro, Pedro, Pedro, Pedro, Pe!
The best in all of Santa Fe, Pedro, Pedro, Pedro, Pedro, Pe!
I will prove it to you.
Referring to Santa Fe Avenue, the hottest street spot for gay flirting and hooking up and the taxi-boys of Buenos Aires, a song that became one of the anthems of the Argentine LGTBIQ+ community. Most of the songs appear in fairly naive, yet modern, montage clips that make for a real city-wide sightseeing tour.
Carrá is a fairly serious character, a lover of freedom and willing to commit without asking too many questions.
Perhaps this review forces the readings a bit, but beyond them and a protagonist who ends up reaffirming her coherence in the outcome, the film is an undeniable enjoyment through the reunion with the legendary Raffaella Carrá, bringing some oxygen to the inhabitants from these troubled lands back then.
The series is an atypical, overwhelming and moving biopic of the trans woman Cristina Ortiz, a famous Spanish media character who emerged in the 90s, with a prodigious staging that crosses all genres and that links different time lines with great originality. It is also a chronicle of the gestation of the book on which she is based, of the coming of age of her author and of her relationship with her biography.
In an age where Spanish fictions strive to become products as international as they are impersonal, the series' narrative power and profoundly Andalusian grace are appreciated, inseparable from its protagonist, a Veneno always treated with respect and infinite love that viewers they will make theirs.
Review:
On the occasion of the recent death of Raffaella Carrá and browsing her videos on YouTube, I came across this film shot in Argentina in 1980, in the midst of the military dictatorship, when she was already a real success.
Carrá plays Barbara, an Italian superstar who comes to sing in a theater in Buenos Aires. At a press conference she meets a photographer, Mauro (Jorge Martínez). Soon we will see that Mauro is chased by an enigmatic trio of characters, while he is developing a romance with the diva.
It was tempting to see a movie filmed and shown during the dictatorship and try to perceive the period climate and detect challenges and meta messages queer and political. On the one hand, Bárbara is a romantic comedy where Carrá's character is a determined, independent woman who even takes up arms, playing an interesting role reversal with her heartthrob. On the other hand, why and by whom is Mauro persecuted, so that he must permanently escape or hide? Who is Mauro?
As a comedy in general and as a physical comedy, Gino Landi's film is quite elementary and the daughter of its time. With its limitations, it works best as a romantic comedy drama, with good chemistry between Carrá and Martínez. It also brings us action thriller sequences that refer us to another icon, Mrs. Peel. A curiosity is to see the playwright Rubén Szuchmacher as one of the enigmatic persecutors of Mauro.
As for the musical numbers, there are questions and challenges: to whom does Bárbara sing the enigmatic and melancholic song of the beginning in front of the Rio de la Plata? The opening number sung in English with her dancers wearing tiny and tight pants could perfectly be a video of Madonna (before Madonna) and is quite scandalous for Argentina at the time. She also has the audacity to sing the song Pedro P, where she says:
I walked alone through the streets, Taking photos of the monuments, The typical foreigner with a strange air, That runs through the entire city.
Suddenly and around a corner, A little boy calls me softly, With an innocent face and a formal air, He offers himself as a guide for the city.
Pedro, Pedro, Pedro, Pedro, Pe!
The best in all of Santa Fe, Pedro, Pedro, Pedro, Pedro, Pe!
I will prove it to you.
Referring to Santa Fe Avenue, the hottest street spot for gay flirting and hooking up and the taxi-boys of Buenos Aires, a song that became one of the anthems of the Argentine LGTBIQ+ community. Most of the songs appear in fairly naive, yet modern, montage clips that make for a real city-wide sightseeing tour.
Carrá is a fairly serious character, a lover of freedom and willing to commit without asking too many questions.
Perhaps this review forces the readings a bit, but beyond them and a protagonist who ends up reaffirming her coherence in the outcome, the film is an undeniable enjoyment through the reunion with the legendary Raffaella Carrá, bringing some oxygen to the inhabitants from these troubled lands back then.