MAJOR SPOILERS! "Siesta" was part of a wave of independent-budget "art" films that showed up in the 80s, buoyed by the success of VCRs and films like "Blue Velvet" and "9 and 1/2 Weeks," and riding off the era of the 1970s when filmmakers were sometimes given budgets to take chances. This film is something like a smaller "Jacob's Ladder" as directed by David Lynch with softcore producer Zalman King holding the purse strings. But is it any good?
Again, MAJOR SPOILERS: The film's entirety is composed of the last thoughts going on in the mind of a woman who is dying from a skydiving accident. Literally nothing that takes place in the film "really" happens, at least by the director's own account. It's a bit of a "bait and switch," as a casual viewer is unlikely to be able to figure that out from a single viewing, and even repeat viewings allude to the lead character's death as an act of homicide resulting from a jealous rage and a torrid love affair. I'm pretty sure at least part of the ire the film evokes in unhappy or dismissive reviewers who feel compelled to come to IMDB and talk about how much they hated the experience of watching the film is that they were so befuddled by the lack of plot, and it so defied their expectations as to how a film should be constructed and how meaning should be conveyed cinematically, that it resulted in an unpleasant viewing experience. It's a shame, because this is actually a really unique piece of cinema, despite its (many) flaws.
Again, by the director's own admission, the film has a lot of problems and missteps...the plot is deliberately obtuse and misleading, the acting tends to be hyper and cartoonish, scenes go on too long or too short and/or lack motivation. The first-time viewer is repeatedly denied the kinds of clues that would help make sense of a messy chain of events (although a case could be made this is exactly the point--like "Jacob's Ladder" the unease of experiencing a distorted reality is the intended effect). Then the film resorts to exploitation tropes--intense scenes of nudity, sexuality and violence (and occasionally all three at once) to a point that seems hard to justify other than pure shock and titialation on the most base of levels. But, hey, shock works, it gets attetion, always has and always will, there's nothing new under the sun and this film is actually rather tame by the standards of the time of this review.
That being said, the look and atmosphere of the film, including some often-dated but mesmerizing (unforgettable actually) score work, featuring Miles Davis...gorgeous views of crumbling sections of Spain, dream-logic moments that are as pure as moving paintings, berserk cameos by some familiar and unfamiliar faces and, yes, the all-in performance by a young, tan, luminously beautiful Ellen Barkin in and out of her clothes, make this an unforgettable experience that still holds up decades later.
This is an ":art" film, it was meant to evoke a response, even if the response is revulsion, disgust...perhaps even boredom (it is called "Siesta" after all). It does a wonderful job of pointing out the instability of perception, the way the consciousness of the human brain tries to make sense of the stimuli around it even when slipping into an unconscious, or damaged state (like dreams, or the last moments of a life, when the faculties are shutting down...hence a persistent belief in things like "a white light" or "seeing god" as reported by those who have survived near-death experiences, which were ultimately dream-state moments where reality and unconsciousness started to blend).
Based on the merits contained in the film (including a wonderful, out-of-character performance by Jody Foster) and the intent of the director, the answer to the question of whether or not this film is any "good" is a confident "yes." Here's hoping it gets a proper re-release someday, and some more of the recognition it deserves, for what it tried to do as much as what it fails to do.
Again, MAJOR SPOILERS: The film's entirety is composed of the last thoughts going on in the mind of a woman who is dying from a skydiving accident. Literally nothing that takes place in the film "really" happens, at least by the director's own account. It's a bit of a "bait and switch," as a casual viewer is unlikely to be able to figure that out from a single viewing, and even repeat viewings allude to the lead character's death as an act of homicide resulting from a jealous rage and a torrid love affair. I'm pretty sure at least part of the ire the film evokes in unhappy or dismissive reviewers who feel compelled to come to IMDB and talk about how much they hated the experience of watching the film is that they were so befuddled by the lack of plot, and it so defied their expectations as to how a film should be constructed and how meaning should be conveyed cinematically, that it resulted in an unpleasant viewing experience. It's a shame, because this is actually a really unique piece of cinema, despite its (many) flaws.
Again, by the director's own admission, the film has a lot of problems and missteps...the plot is deliberately obtuse and misleading, the acting tends to be hyper and cartoonish, scenes go on too long or too short and/or lack motivation. The first-time viewer is repeatedly denied the kinds of clues that would help make sense of a messy chain of events (although a case could be made this is exactly the point--like "Jacob's Ladder" the unease of experiencing a distorted reality is the intended effect). Then the film resorts to exploitation tropes--intense scenes of nudity, sexuality and violence (and occasionally all three at once) to a point that seems hard to justify other than pure shock and titialation on the most base of levels. But, hey, shock works, it gets attetion, always has and always will, there's nothing new under the sun and this film is actually rather tame by the standards of the time of this review.
That being said, the look and atmosphere of the film, including some often-dated but mesmerizing (unforgettable actually) score work, featuring Miles Davis...gorgeous views of crumbling sections of Spain, dream-logic moments that are as pure as moving paintings, berserk cameos by some familiar and unfamiliar faces and, yes, the all-in performance by a young, tan, luminously beautiful Ellen Barkin in and out of her clothes, make this an unforgettable experience that still holds up decades later.
This is an ":art" film, it was meant to evoke a response, even if the response is revulsion, disgust...perhaps even boredom (it is called "Siesta" after all). It does a wonderful job of pointing out the instability of perception, the way the consciousness of the human brain tries to make sense of the stimuli around it even when slipping into an unconscious, or damaged state (like dreams, or the last moments of a life, when the faculties are shutting down...hence a persistent belief in things like "a white light" or "seeing god" as reported by those who have survived near-death experiences, which were ultimately dream-state moments where reality and unconsciousness started to blend).
Based on the merits contained in the film (including a wonderful, out-of-character performance by Jody Foster) and the intent of the director, the answer to the question of whether or not this film is any "good" is a confident "yes." Here's hoping it gets a proper re-release someday, and some more of the recognition it deserves, for what it tried to do as much as what it fails to do.