Biutiful

I must say... I watched this movie twice. At first brush... I couldn't quite get past the pain and heaviness of the film... and at second screening, I really got to enjoy the (biutiful) visual metaphors that the director wanted to paint for us. It is indeed grim... and human. Like life, and perhaps a reflection of these days, not everything ends up happily ever after... we all are surviving each day in our own ways. This slice of family life, in a small quarter of Barcelona, is not glossed over and prettied up like most Hollywood films that we've slowly grown to despise (I know I don't speak for everyone). This is not the film that you go to to escape from reality... it's reality facing right back at you. It paints a perspective on the lives of those living on the frayed edges of our society, in every part of the world. For me, I think it is a pity that none of the Big Six picked it up for wider distribution. And that's the sad note for today's American cinema.

Biutiful is a departure and a confirmation for Mexican director Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu: on the one hand, it is another study of lives gone awry, with no punches pulled in regards to the misery experienced by the characters; on the other, it's the first film he's made he parted ways with screenwriter Guillermo Arriaga, who preferred to move on to other projects after Babel. Biutiful proves two things: firstly, Inarritu remains very good at constructing memorable images; secondly, these aren't worth quite as much without Arriaga's words.

Set in Barcelona, the film ditches the filmmaker's traditional fragmented, multi-character narrative, focusing solely on one imposing figure: Uxbal (Javier Bardem), a man who has to deal with his own imminent death from cancer, a dire relationship with his family (wife, kids and brother), his ties to local criminal activities and, more generally, the ugliness he sees every day walking down the streets. Surely the (intentionally misspelled) title must be ironic.

Working on the script himself, Inarritu goes for a simpler story, but doesn't renounce his penchant for harrowing material. In fact, Biutiful is undoubtedly the least cheerful film he's directed to this day, and that's saying something. His depiction of a gray, ugly Barcelona is faultless, exposing the city's seedy underbelly and disease (both physical and spiritual) with genuine, relentless storytelling passion. However, this is also detrimental to the film's impact: without Arriaga's more experienced take on the subject, the director doesn't know when to stop, throwing in one tragedy after another for the best part of the movie's 148 minutes, with no pause for breathing. It's almost too bleak, too tragic, to fully convince as a drama.

Does this mean all the praise Inarritu has received in the past was premature? Not really. Even his detractors usually acknowledge his talent with actors, and in this case, perhaps being aware of the script's shortcomings, he has hit the jackpot: from start to finish, Bardem is a revelation, justly awarded with the Best Actor prize in Cannes. Sure, he's always been a gifted thespian, and no stranger to difficult parts (see The Sea Inside), but here he's really in a class of his own. Communicating with his sad, tired eyes rather than his broken voice, he carries the whole picture with a stoic dignity that is always gripping and heartbreaking.

While easy to mock and criticize, Biutiful, for all its flaws, warrants at least one viewing on the grounds that it proves beyond doubt that sometimes a truly astounding performance can save an otherwise mediocre film.

"Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light" – Dylan Thomas

Nominated for an Oscar for both Best Foreign Film and Best Actor (Javier Bardem), Alejandro Inarritu's Biutiful is a story about those who live on the margins: Sengalese immigrants, Chinese sweatshop workers, small-time criminals, and corrupt cops who feed at the trough. Set in the seedy back streets of Barcelona, Spain, Biutiful (copying a child's spelling of the word) is not only about fear and degradation but also about faith in the possibility of redemption. The film not only explores the pain caused by globalization and human trafficking but also delves into the mystery and contradictions of life in which beauty and misery can exist side by side. It is not always pleasant to watch but it is an honest and often poetic film in which there are no stock characters. Even the worst of them are three-dimensional human beings caught in a tangled web of circumstances.

Magnificently performed by Bardem, Uxbal works as a middle man, finding jobs on construction sites for undocumented aliens from China and Africa, and supplying goods to illegal street vendors. He must deal not only with the illegal activities he has chosen to be a part of, but with his own torments - a wife (Maricel Alvarez) who is a prostitute and suffers from bi-polar disease, his two small children, Ana and Mateo (Hanaa Bouchaib and Guillermo Estrella) who long for stability and love, and a diagnosis of cancer that gives him only a few months to live. Uxbal is a character of contradictions, caught between his willingness to do what it takes to survive, even if it means going outside the law, and his love for his family and concern for the immigrants. These contradictions do not always make sense but lend his character a lifelike reality. He is also a spiritual medium who speaks with the dead or dying who are crossing over and provides comforting messages to those left behind (characteristically for a fee).

The film is shot by Rodrigo Prieto with a hand-held camera that enhances a feeling of intimacy. In the opening scene, Uxbal is seen in a snowy forest with his grandfather who left Spain for Mexico, another connection between Uxbal and the spirit world. This scene takes on more meaning by the end of the film. Inarritu throws many people and many situations into the mix, perhaps too many and the subplots do not always gel. There is Uxbal's brother Tito (Eduard Fernandez) who is involved with drugs and strip joints and sleeps with Uxbal's wife Marambra, a Sengalese family Ekweme and Ige (Cheijh Ndiave and Diaryatou Daff) living in Spain illegally, and the relationship of two gay Chinese criminals Hai and Liwei (Cheng Tai Shen and Luo Jin).

When the police arrest his friend, Ekweme, Uxbal promises to look after his wife Ige and their infant son Samuel and Ige takes on the role of his nanny, much to the delight of the children. As Uxbal's health begins to fail, his ties to the crime bosses come asunder, and his relationship with his family reaches a breaking point, he turns to the shaman Bea (Ana Wagener) to seek guidance, ask for forgiveness, and strengthen his connection to the other side. While Uxbal is not the reincarnation of St. Francis of Assisi and has contributed to human suffering, he seeks redemption in the love that he provides for his children, his patience with his wife's condition, and his attempts to reach out and protect the exploited.

As Inarritu has said, "Even if darkness seems to be everywhere, Biutiful offers many touches of hope. I'd even say it's my most optimistic film. Uxbal's character is full of light. He puts a lot into organizing his life, helping his children, loving other people." To paraphrase Walt Whitman, "If you have patience and indulgence towards people, reexamine all you have done, dismiss what insults your very soul, your flesh shall become a great poem." With whatever dignity he has left and after much resistance, Uxbal comes to terms with his own mortality, helping him to move beyond guilt and despair to confirm the beauty and preciousness of life.

Inarritu's three previous films---Amores Perros, 21 Grams and Babel---are classified together as the Death Trilogy, as they each depict the exponential impact of fatal or near-fatal occurrences in the interconnected existence of separate lives. They are each epic, punch-packing dramatic powerhouses. But now I see he still had much more to say on the literally infinite subject of death. And he says it with Biutiful, a purely experiential film that pierces through the heart with the acuity of a stingray barb.

The narrative here is a rail tunnel of raw, sprawling intimacy set in an overpopulated, decaying Barcelona ghetto. We follow Uxbal, and we're not entirely sure what he does. Neither does anybody, or him really. Much of the things he does are criminal, mainly mitigating between corrupt police and illegal aliens, with often catastrophic results. He is also a dedicated father to two young children whose mother, his ex-wife, is a wreck of alcohol, bipolarity and promiscuity, and worse, knows her inability to control herself and is in a quicksand of bettering herself. Uxbal also has prostate cancer, which is rapidly spreading. Also, he is internally connected with the afterlife. He doesn't see visions, he doesn't clutch shoulders and see the manner of one's impending death. He purely senses a recently deceased spirit in the room with him. He can do nothing about their situation. He just senses them.

Uxbal's ability to feel the presence of departed souls is portrayed like a sort of capacity to hear noise at the volume at which, say, a dog could only be expected to hear it. The film's setting and happenings are a jerky, spontaneous, lateral rush of urban business, like the sight, sound and fury made by the living to distract themselves from the silence of death. Each scene seems to be a concordance of extroverted behavior and internal behavior, both with equal fervor, yet both on either side of some two-way mirror. Only those characters, namely Uxbal, whose conflicts and dilemmas are constantly internalized, can hear that silence. Eventually, his daughter does as well, and becomes the closest to him, in what one might go as far as to consider the film's climax, a bear-like hug they both know is as fleeting as every other action in this desperate commotion of a life they lead.

Iñárritu intends to drain us. Physically, internally, emotionally. And he cleans out his total cinematic armory to do so. And like death, that is both a blessing and a curse. For however harrowing it is, Biutiful exalts us with the chance to see soul bare, through Javier Bardem's performance as Uxbal. Watching Bardem absorb, involve and ultimately possess a many-sided role like Uxbal's is a singular delicacy, and a complete wonder. His eyes speak agonizing tomes. He hauls from an unfathomably mysterious spring of passion, grief, and who knows what else.

One might be able to delineate that Bardem renders a tragic individual as a fading Barcelona forager who deals in illegal immigrants and connects with the deceased. But every now and then, a story materializes, conveyed in a way that is so sprawling, so comprehensive, that no one premise or implication can classify it. Attempting to definitely describe it limits something that offers the utmost magnitude of whatever an actor's, a filmmaker's, and viewer's, understanding. That is what makes Biutiful so precious.

"Biutiful" is devastating. Not only isn't it a comfortable and audience-pleasing film but in this case the story's really shocking, well acted and directed and, overall, terribly sad. The film is basically about good and evil, death and life and similar topics. These themes are very effectively expressed in its atmospheric and innovative photography. Iñarritu's camera gets to detect images of fierce and brilliance in the squalor. Javier's face is painted with light and shadows, as well as with a sinister appearance suggesting strong contrition and redemption. Uxbal's efforts to make some generous deeds before his death are rendered in a terrific performance, which manages to elevate the bleak subject to a sublime level. "Biutiful" is a work of extraordinary vitality and humanity, with figures of untarnished quality (Uxbal's children and the Senegalese immigrant who'll raise them after his death). On a personal level Uxbal comes to terms with the close death but eventually shows a vision of reconciliation with the life he must leave behind. Watching the film is a really a must.