LAURA CITARELLA, VERÓNICA LLINÁS: DOG LADY/LA MUJER DE LOS PERROS (2015)


VERÓNICA LINÁS IN DOG LADY

Ms. Robinson Crusoe?

In Argentinian co-directorc Laura Citarella and Verónica Llinás' Spanish-language (but almost wordless) film Dog Lady, actress Llinás apparently becomes her character in this observational study of a woman with eight dogs living on the pampas at the edge of Buenos Aires through four seasons. She occupies a shack composed of found objects, covered with sheets of discarded plastic -- if this shows anything, it's that the world's detritus is dominated by plastic -- curled up with her friendly canines, and survives somehow on the fringes of society. Identifiable as a cousin of the protagonist of Agnès Varda’s much better and more complexly plotted Vagabond (memorably embodied by Sandrine Bonnaire), this unnamed character forages for and sometimes steals food, and candles from a church (during a service), has sex with a gaucho she may or may not know who fumbles at reading his own makeshift poetry. She goes to a hospital for an unexplained problem and is given two prescriptions that she throws away, presumably because she has no money to pay for the meds. The nurse-practitioner has advised her, amusingly, to get more exercise (we see her constantly on the go) and avoid fatty foods.

With a pleasing, sparing bass-heavy musical soundtrack by Juana Molina and handsome, mostly unobtrusive fly-on-the wall (or dog's back) cinematography by Soledad Rodriguez, this is in its way a satisfying and atmospheric film, frequently beautiful in its general avoidance of urban mess in favor of a life in nature -- though designed only for the more patient moviegoer, for sure. But it should not go unquestioned as a vision of anybody's reality. It neither explains things about a self-sufficient existence in the wild (as Dafoe's Robinson Crusoe so elaborately does, or as Jon Krakauer's Into the Wild describes the failure of) nor does its wordless showing convince us that the co-director, camera, and backup crew aren't always there making the illusion work. This is drama that is immersive, but still not totally convincing or complete. How does she feed the dogs? Doesn't she ever talk to them? In the interest of artiness, the Dog Lady is kept wordless, and many necessary details of her existence omitted.

Jay Weissberg's Rotterdam Festival Varietyreview describes this film as "an observational arthouse study from the collective El Pampero Cine (Extraordinary Stories" that's "notable for its understatement and a sterling lead turn by co-helmer Llinas (Mount Bayo)." But the understatement also means that a hundred details go unexplained that, in a realistic study of such an existence by a non-actor, would need explanation.

Dog Lady/La mujer de los perros, 95 mins., debuted at Rotterdam. Screened for this review as part of he FSLC-MoMA series New Directors/New Films. Citarella's second directorial effort and Llinás' first. Neil Young also reviewed the film at Rotterdam for Hollywood Reporter.

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©Chris Knipp. Blog: http://chrisknipp.blogspot.com/.