Wild TalesEveryone gets pushed to the limit; some people go past that point. In Wild Tales, a collection of six vignettes directed by Damián Szifron, six self-contained stories herald the clarion call of anxiety which gives way to a relinquishing of that tenuous grasp we all believe we have, that idea of civility, and reveals us ultimately as "wild". In each story, someone is pressed to the point of breaking, usually our main character, and reacts with extreme measures, a mixture of dark comedy and wrathful violence. Laughing and cringing both are the right response, as we realize just how far that stress can really push any of us.
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It's quite a challenge to create the equivalent of a cinematic short story collection, consistent in theme and tone, without reiterating the same ideas over and over, but Wild Tales succeeds by not only exploring different kinds of stressors, but different kinds of people who ultimately find themselves in situations where they must fight or flee; most inevitably opt for the former. One of the benefits of the short story is that it is a condensation of a tale, a story arc stripped of padding, and focusing on the raw kernel of the message, and yet crafted with artistry. Sure, almost any of the individual episodes might make up a movie in and of itself; together, tightly packed, they represent the best qualities of a sampler buffet, focusing on what it is that really sells the story, and feeding us just enough exposition filler to keep the meat together. The artistry is that we don't find ourselves asking questions about characters beyond what we are exposed to, because we know it won't enhance the plot, nor are we laden with superficiality...but that does not mean that these episodes are without style. My personal favorite of the six is titled "Bombita" (little bomb), dealing with a demolitions expert who runs afoul with a civic towing company, red tape, and his own pent-up frustration and indignation. Small details really sell the character of Simón Fisher (Ricardo Darín): his passive-aggressive complaint about the expense of his daughter's birthday cake, his aggressive-aggressive rebuttal when told that he cannot get his car back until he pays to have it released from the impound after supposedly parking illegally. When he has an argument with his wife after coming home late, she reinforces our suspicions that Simón may have unresolved anger issues and pent-up rage, targeted at that ambiguous of discorporate entities called "society". That might be interesting in and of itself, but it is all the more profound given his profession of blowing things up, as if it were some kind of way to expel his rage. And as in all of these tales, the anger builds to a head when he has been pushed beyond reasonable limits. His act of revenge is elegant in its simplicity and devilishly appropriate; not necessarily smart, but when has revenge ever been about being smart? No, chaos is the spark, everything else is just tinder.
One of the best qualities of Wild Tales is that it dances a tango across the line of what is familiar and identifiable in terms of how we would react to the stress--or would want to react--and what goes beyond into lunacy. I'd bet that almost every one of us has had moments of road rage well up within us, when we can't pass someone going to slowly, when some jerk passes us in a no-passing zone and flips us off, that kind of thing. Sure, we get mad, honk back angrily, and grumble for the next two exits; hopefully, none of us are doing this while listening to Giorgio Moroder. And I will bet that many of you have imagined just what kind of choice words--or even retaliations--you'd like to share with the other party. But I suspect that if you had acted upon that impulse, well, you might be reading this article in the comforts of the state pen. And it's that double yellow line which few people actually want to cross to exact their anger, their vengeance at having been wronged. In another segment of the film--"El más fuerte" (The Strongest)--two drivers find themselves engaged in a figurative (and, at one point, literal) pissing contest of road rage, pushed past the point of humiliation, and wanting to subject the other to degradation or worse. The escalation reaches unconscionable levels, and elevates into an explosive rage fantasy where the outcome is preordained. Sometimes the revenge is more subtle--even unconscious in the way of social conditioning--such as in "La Propuesta" (The Proposal). After a tragic accident occurs, and a member of an affluent family must face legal ramifications, the conclusion is to pass the responsibility onto a member of the working class, rather than have the privileged face the music. While "revenge" seems unrelated to the overall arc of the story, it is a more insidious kind of misplaced anger. The affluent father may not seem like a "bad guy" himself, but this kind of social elitism is such that the idea of hanging another human being out to dry in place of the real culprit of a crime shows that he is willing to degrade him because he devalues him. Sometimes, facing that hateful rage within ourselves is to terrifying to consider, and needs that extra nudge from one who has already crossed that threshold, as in "Las Ratas" (The Rats). Or even that love itself requires more than just bodily attraction and pleasant conversation--it requires a total razing of one another, a consuming fire which destroys all so as to be reborn as one, as in "Hasta que la muerte nos separe" (Until Death Do Us Part). And sometimes--like in "Pasternak"--you just need to fly away...not really to leave it all behind, but take everyone with you; revenge is a dish best served with a single-serving Cordon bleu.
Recommended for: Fans of rapid-fire black comedy, a constant roller coaster of rising and descending action, watching a series of people pushed farther than they can go, and reacting with the kind of awe-inspiring explosiveness we all wish we had in us once in a while.
One of the best qualities of Wild Tales is that it dances a tango across the line of what is familiar and identifiable in terms of how we would react to the stress--or would want to react--and what goes beyond into lunacy. I'd bet that almost every one of us has had moments of road rage well up within us, when we can't pass someone going to slowly, when some jerk passes us in a no-passing zone and flips us off, that kind of thing. Sure, we get mad, honk back angrily, and grumble for the next two exits; hopefully, none of us are doing this while listening to Giorgio Moroder. And I will bet that many of you have imagined just what kind of choice words--or even retaliations--you'd like to share with the other party. But I suspect that if you had acted upon that impulse, well, you might be reading this article in the comforts of the state pen. And it's that double yellow line which few people actually want to cross to exact their anger, their vengeance at having been wronged. In another segment of the film--"El más fuerte" (The Strongest)--two drivers find themselves engaged in a figurative (and, at one point, literal) pissing contest of road rage, pushed past the point of humiliation, and wanting to subject the other to degradation or worse. The escalation reaches unconscionable levels, and elevates into an explosive rage fantasy where the outcome is preordained. Sometimes the revenge is more subtle--even unconscious in the way of social conditioning--such as in "La Propuesta" (The Proposal). After a tragic accident occurs, and a member of an affluent family must face legal ramifications, the conclusion is to pass the responsibility onto a member of the working class, rather than have the privileged face the music. While "revenge" seems unrelated to the overall arc of the story, it is a more insidious kind of misplaced anger. The affluent father may not seem like a "bad guy" himself, but this kind of social elitism is such that the idea of hanging another human being out to dry in place of the real culprit of a crime shows that he is willing to degrade him because he devalues him. Sometimes, facing that hateful rage within ourselves is to terrifying to consider, and needs that extra nudge from one who has already crossed that threshold, as in "Las Ratas" (The Rats). Or even that love itself requires more than just bodily attraction and pleasant conversation--it requires a total razing of one another, a consuming fire which destroys all so as to be reborn as one, as in "Hasta que la muerte nos separe" (Until Death Do Us Part). And sometimes--like in "Pasternak"--you just need to fly away...not really to leave it all behind, but take everyone with you; revenge is a dish best served with a single-serving Cordon bleu.
Recommended for: Fans of rapid-fire black comedy, a constant roller coaster of rising and descending action, watching a series of people pushed farther than they can go, and reacting with the kind of awe-inspiring explosiveness we all wish we had in us once in a while.