Reviews

9/10 For bravery, bold choices, stunning visuals and elliptical exploration of mortality, poetry and the politics of expression.

Of course there are flaws, but the work of a first feature (and particularly one of this ambitious nature) are bound to contain them.

The film's beginning promises less than it delivers. The actor/filmmaker is searching for something -- a way into this short story, a validation for his motivation, a tick from above. His journey is almost that of a detective -- one who is learning to co-exist as a sociologist and a human (grieving and alienation from one's own experience are some of the film's central questions).

The images reflect the filmmakers own inner turmoil -- do i distance the audience or allow them to feel? Am I to pillage the young girl for experience or am i to relent to powerlessness? Extreme wide shots of the man wrestle alongside tender close ups. Especially when we arrive at the sequences of the young girl as she demands the background of the filmmakers actions (the white dress climbing the staircase et all) The music (and sudden disappearance of music) with image and darkness is not so effective for me. Perhaps the device is used too much but I also understand the sound mix was not final. I think without the black the film would have felt more surefooted. But this is maybe an aesthetic bias for me. However the choice of music is fantastic. The piece towards the end is very high in drama and my initial reaction was to balk -- but the sentimental piece could possibly be paying tribute to the innate romantic indulgence of some type of cinema. And as an audience member, we were aware of the manipulation -- which was what, I expect, Palavecino was trying to achieve.

In light of this, the audience is never sure whether Palavecino is playing satire of the filmmakers intention of paying it self-reflexive homage. The uneasy mix is good, however, as to rely too formerly on the latter would suggest a kind of immaturity. But instead Palavecino always chooses to walk a fine line between satire and earnest emotion -- reminiscent of "Contempt" "8 1/2" and "Day for Night" but closer to the school of Godard I believe.

The scene in the cafe where he receives criticism for his unfaithful adaptation is where the real magic of this film begins to unfold. The couple at a nearby table could almost be characters from the unmade Conti film -- and from this point on the film works with these double levels.

In the end, I am left with a story about uneasy ambition, artistic expression, loneliness and love -- and the artist's uneasy choice to either be caught up in the maelstrom of experience or detached from it.

I'm completely surprised that this was nominated for Oscars --- it seems the awards really have deteriorated. And on the flip side -- it missed out on Cannes. THe world has really changed. This is the stuff Lars Von Trier eats off. FACES is the work of a director with excellent taste and superb instinct. The performance style is crafted with a fluid self-reflexive camera. Its seems we are always aware that these people, these performances are being filmed. The camera lurks in the corner of the room before confronting them with a closeup noiresque tilt.

The camera work is muscular but there are no gratuitous moves or emotive tricks to allure the audience into the 'moment'. Instead, a subtler thing is at play : the masks and characters these people play are as much a surprise to themselves as they are to us.

It's a shame people compare this film to indie dogs like "walking and talking". This film is a work of art. Strangely compelling, clunky, human, passionate, deranged and ultimately uplifting -- this is one of the most mature and honest portrayals of women and loneliness I have seen in a long time.

For me it's up there with Hal Hartley and Woody Allen's freshest and most honest work. It's real credit that it was selected in competition for Cannes - - they understand the way elliptical themes and complex characters are often the most challenging and satisfying for a thinking audience.

For people that don't get it : Stick to TV cinema. You won't understand art if it hits you in the face.

This film was the Aussie highlight of Melbourne film festival -- by far. Not hard competition I must say -- Sommersault and Tom White were dreary numbers.

Although the dialogue is heavy handed and the performances under directed -- something interesting comes from the poetics of the imagery. Stalictites, Bad modern art, pervy old men, misogyny, exhibitionism, animal instinct -- all of these things combine tastefully to evoke an erotic and heady world -- a bit like a glass of peppery red wine.

What it did achieve in its exploration of themes -- was not as brilliantly explored as Ken Russel's "Women in Love" but certainly the ideas of the male vs. female instinct was intriguing and mesmerising.

What I miss is the detail of performance -- Jacqui and Rebecca (both fine actresses) look lost in front of the lens. Aron Blabey is a bit TV here and Chris Haywood is interesting -- but far from the complex creation he could have been.