Alejandro González Iñárritu is this year's Visionary
Alejandro González Inárritu takes us on a journey from the slums of Mexico through an anxiety fuelled Barcelona, to the neon lights of Tokyo, where he manages to depict globalization from an individualistic perspective. He creates stories that tell both our own personal experiences and of the world, by carefully weaving together destinies through storytelling where the whole is always bigger than the parts.
It was the beginning of a new millennium and seemingly from nowhere, an unusually raw and skillfully narrated film appeared on the international film scene. It was about dogs, love and graphic violence and it was in Spanish. The director? He was from Mexico, an unknown debutant with a flair for unusual narratives. His name was Alejandro González Iñárritu and »Amores Perros« was his feature debut; a web spun of three separate stories—and destinies—woven together by a car crash somewhere in Mexico City. The car crash theme appeared again in Iñárritu’s American productions »21 Grams« and »Babel«. Together with »Amores Perros« they became the »trilogy of death« and starred Sean Penn, Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchet, among others. After »Babel« came »Biutiful« Iñárritu’s most recent film, which alongside »Babel« put Iñárritu on the map as the foremost poetic portrayer of the globalization’s effect on individuals. Ironically, it is on the individual level Iñárritu excels. The stories never depict the grand forces who effect the world, but rather the individuals who, in one way or another, struggles for survival in the harsh reality of said world. Often families and children are the central theme, pointing out our vulnerability as well as our responsibilities. But how are we suppose to take responsibility and pull ourselves together, when we cannot even control the forces influencing our lives and the life of others?
The theme became typical for the decade following »Amores Perros«—the sensation of being connected to the rest of the world and as Bea, one of the characters in »Biutiful« chooses to express it, “the universe”. The choices we make can affect a stranger, close or far away, if they are not already doing so—on a daily basis. Above all Iñárritu’s films inconveniently reminds us that there is a force beyond our ability to choose or control, that we eventually will have to accept. Within this fact lies the pain, but also the credibility of his work. What Iñárritu contributed with from the very beginning was an extra level of the sorrow and frustration—rarely depicted fairly on film, because they are emotions beyond words; the harsh consequences of our actions—voluntary or involuntary alike—are the ones we want to control the most, because we know that we cannot. Coincidence overshadows everyday decisions and in Iñárritu’s films, coincidence is irreversible and cannot be repaired. When shit hits the fan, it does it properly, so to speak. The feeling—or the apathy—provoked by his work is literally physical. The emotion is constantly present, from the first frame of »Amores Perros« to the last one in »Biutiful«. It is shady and grey and displayed in detail. It is dirty, common and not very flattering. It is blurry, grainy and yet—undeniably sharp.
So how does one deal with that emotion? Iñárritu’s characters find different ways to tackle the misery around them. In »21 Grams« they find their way back to drug use, they take meditative laps in the swimming pool and resort to faith and soul searching. In »Babel« they travel and seek intimacy. They try to forget; they try to find a piece of mind. In »Biutiful«, the most stoic option is presented: you cannot fight it, but must ultimately accept your faith and try to set things straight while that possibility are still an option. Maybe the answer lies within letting go of the need to control, which eventually only leads to more pain. To make yourself humble in the face of “universe”.
The journalist and the author Joan Didion once wrote that we make up stories in order to survive, a statement applicable on Iñárritu’s films. They may be merciless towards their characters. Dark, raw and death affirming they initially seem complicated, but in reality they create a kind of order and logic amongst the paralleling stories and events. Those who are familiar with Iñárritu’s work know that slashed narrative and initial confusion goes far beyond being a stylistic experiment; that they are on their way to somewhere. Exactly where they are going, we will never know—once we catch a glimpse, they are already headed somewhere else, just like the twists and turns of real life.
In other words, it does not really matter where the stories come from, as long as they have a heart. Iñárritu has taken on a journey with his films, from Mexico via USA to Barcelona in Spain, but he has never abandoned the emotional core of the stories he has given us. If hope may seem distant in his work, there is hope in Iñárritu’s conviction of the importance telling a story he truly believes in. Otherwise there is a risk that no one will listen.
