FILM-FORWARD.COMReviews of Recent Independent, Foreign, & Documentary Films in Theaters and DVD/Home Video
Directed by: Carlos Sorín. Produced by: José María Morales, Óscar Kramer & Marcelo Acosta. Director of Photography: Hugo Colace. Edited by: Mohamed Rajid. Music by: Nicolas Sorín. Released by: Cinema Tropical. Language: Spanish with English subtitles. Country of Origin: Argentina. 96 min. Not Rated. With: Juan Villegas, Walter Donado & Rosa Valsecchi.
Set in arid Patagonia, El Perro is a small-scale film focusing on Juan Villegas, who after 20 years has lost his job at a gas station. His prospects as a man in his fifties with little education are very small. He has almost nothing, except a daughter with her own problems, a wife he hasn’t seen in years, and is hapless in his attempt to sell his hand-made knives no one can afford to buy. Nothing much really happens, until he is given a lonely and unwanted dog, a purebred Argentine Dogo.
As in his last film, Intimate Stories, director Carlos Sorín uses non-professional actors and it shows. The dialogue feels spontaneous. A few phrases and one or two close-ups effectively convey an entire predicament. This is apparent from the very beginning: Juan offers his knives to a group of
workers, saying in his slow, methodical voice how he carves from aged wood the handle just so, like in the form of a puma, all the while the men around him murmur admiringly – until the price is mentioned, and everything falls apart. The desperation behind Juan’s attempt to bargain, and the defeat in his expressionless face as the men go away, say more than any voice-over or dialogue could. There are also very flat moments, but any befuddlement or awkwardness felt by Juan Villegas (playing the character with his name) works for a self-effacing and shy character.
And of course, there’s the dog itself, Lechien. Its previous owner comments he used to be playful, but now is silent. Lechien has lost his
playfulness, seems reticent and afraid. Sound familiar? The film advances at a leisurely pace, sometimes too slowly, but overall is an understatedly moving journey for the man, the dog and the viewer.
Roxana M. Ramirez
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