As we wait for reviews for Steven Soderbergh’s mammoth two-part epic Che to filter in, let’s take a look at the reaction to today’s other competition entry, Lucretia Martel’s La Mujer Sin Cabeza. The film was handicapped by some as a possible Palme d’Or contender before the fest began, but reviews today were fairly mixed.
Here’s the Hollywood Reporter’s Peter Brunette: “If Martel's narrative and character exposition are skimpy, her cinematic technique can be breathtaking. She knows how to evoke a barely-registered undercurrent of existential dread through repetitive, barely discernible noises or off-beat, insistent music on her soundtrack, in the manner of Russian master Sokurov. Children loudly cavort in the background of scenes in a way that puts us edge without our really understanding why... Now, if only Martel would become a little more generous with story details, our pleasure would be complete.”
However, Glenn Kenny is much more willing to give Martel another shot: “while Mujer is a far quieter film than Martel's sardonic 2001 feature debut La Cienega, not to mention it's followup, 2004's The Holy Girl. Mujer doesn't lack for stuff—but the register of the film's nuances is so narrow that unless you're paying proper attention, the image will disappear before your eyes. A fancy way of saying that I need to see this story of the discreet guilt-trip of one particular bourgeoisie again.”
Playing out of competition is the documentary/profile Maradona by Kusturica, which is pretty much what it sounds like. The Guardian’s Peter Bradshaw weighs in: “Kusturica deserves credit for revealing Maradona to be more articulate and thoughtful than he usually appears, but what a strange, blustering, macho film this is. Kusturica contrives to get himself into almost every shot, and all-too-obviously thinks he is a testosterone legend to match his subject. He repeatedly shows clips from his own movies - allegedly because they mirror Maradona's tough home life. It is pure penis-envy cinema.”
Finally, some thoughts on The Bastards, Amat Escalante’s Un Certain Regard entry, expressed by Variety’s Todd McCarthy: “From the bold opening credits, the simplicity of his conceptions, the stripped-down refinement of his widescreen framing and the rich sound mix, it's clear Escalante possess a strong talent. What he does with it is another matter… The worst cliches about Mexicans are furthered by the guys front and center here: Jesus looks like a prison-hardened hombre who'd rather stare you down than talk to you, and the resentful Fausto serves up repeated slurs against gringos. When Jesus pulls his compact shotgun out of his backpack, the negative portrait is complete.”