Hannah Connell-Moylan-
Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu has a reputation as a director who likes to wallow in the themes of doom and gloom. The three films he wrote with screen-writing partner Guillermo Arriaga (Amores Perros, Babel, 21 Grams) have been referred to as the “death trilogy” and although Biutiful is his first film since splitting with Arriaga, not much has changed.
Uxbal is a single father racing to provide for his two children before he must succumb to terminal cancer. Biutiful follows his last few weeks as he struggles to balance his family life, tormented as it is by his neurotic bipolar ex-wife and his work in an illegal Chinese sweat-shop. The latter, which is originally a life of petty crime, seems to spiral out of control in correspondence with Uxbal’s health, ultimately leading to horrific tragedy. Uxbal also has the ability to see and converse with the recently dead and he reluctantly uses this to make an income.
Inarritu shows us a Barcelona unfamiliar to tourists. Gone are the picturesque vistas and in their place are grimy cramped apartments with stained walls and scattered with clothes that you can almost smell they look so dirty. These bleak images are peppered throughout with shots of Uxbal urinating blood, and creepy spirits who lurk in the peripherals of the camera. Uplifting stuff.
Biutiful has many stunning moments. A chase scene along Las Ramblas between the African street vendors and the police is unforgettable. The surreal opening and closing scenes are incredibly beautiful, and if it wasn’t for Inarritu’s heavy handed metaphor they would also be a lot more comprehensible. We notice from the off that sound is going to be a significant feature: every crunch, crackle, sizzle is left in. Inarritu has taken a risk which pays off. He uses lavalier mics so that, for example in a scene where Uxbal hugs his daughter, the mics pick up the actor’s heartbeats, which become the predominant sound in the scene. Bardem’s performance is also phenomenal, even in death he is magnetic.
The problem with Biutiful is it’s too much. With every new travesty introduced, the film becomes a bit more gratuitous. Inarritu seems to be trying to run us ragged and with such relentless gloom, it approaches parody. This combined with the running time (almost three hours), and too many plotlines results in Biutiful falling just short. Although remarkable in places and beautifully shot, the audience is ultimately left with Bardem’s exceptional performance and perhaps a warning to get more prostate exams.
3/5
