Evita (1996)

Evita poster.jpg

Statesmanship is more than entertaining peasants. 1952 Buenos Aires: a film in a cinema is stopped by the newsflash that Eva Peron (Madonna) is dead. Flashback to years earlier: a little girl running into a church and placing flowers on the body of the man who was her father before she is hustled out. 1930s:  Eva Duarte is sleeping with a tango singer Magaldi (Jimmy Nail) before making her name as a radio actress and then befriending a powerful man Colonel Juan Peron (Jonathan Pryce) at a fundraiser following an earthquake. She becomes his mistress and encourages and hustles for him as he parlays his way to power, using her broadcasting nous to raise support for him during his imprisonment by political rivals who fear his rise. Throughout this larger than life musical drama (entirely sung through) Che Guevara (Antonio Banderas) is the shapeshifting commentator on the sidelines, positioning us in the narrative, until the final – unthinkable – departure of Evita. This is a robust, admirable adaptation by director Alan Parker and Oliver Stone of the Andrew Lloyd Webber-Tim Rice behemoth that bestrode theatre in the 1970s after its introduction as a concept album – a musical drama that deconstructs the life of the Argentine bastard who became an actress and whore before marrying the dissolute Peron and utilising her powers of demagoguery to help him and his Nazi thugs to Government. All of this is contextualised under the guise of sympathy for the impoverished masses of which she believed she was one because she was the illegitimate offspring of a married middle class man.  The story problem here is the persona of Evita herself – she’s a narcissistic exhibitionist whose principal passion is herself and this presents the issue of empathy for the viewing experience. It’s an epic political pageant but it’s politics as psychodrama:  you can admire the scale but it’s a mirthless spectacle about horrendous people. Madonna does an excellent job with the songs but her limited technical acting abilities aren’t helped by the parameters of the role itself, which is primarily declarative in function. The first opportunity she really gets to properly emote is on her deathbed: everything else is essentially a con job of presentation, inherent to the character herself. Banderas and Pryce are commentators and therefore essential to the interacting of the personal with the political on a broad canvas shot in muted amber tones which is admittedly captivating and occasionally jaw-dropping in ambition. There are some wonderful visual flourishes and pastiche references to classical filmmaking (Parker even makes a cameo appearance). At its heart this is a vengeful journey into fascistic madness framed by two funerals.  It’s certainly interesting to see this again (in any form) in the week in which the Perons’ successors are finally sentencing the pilots who carried out the murders of tens of thousands of dissidents by dropping them in the shark-infested Atlantic 40 years ago rather than wasting time torturing them – so many people had already invested their energies doing that and it was obviously tiring them out. Can you imagine what these toxic avengers would have done if they’d been allowed on the Falklands? Oh what a circus, oh what a show.

The Secret in Their Eyes (2009)

The Secret in Their Eyes 2009 poster.jpg

This Argentinian film has recently been remade in the US with a starry cast and a re-triangulation of the original relationships. A retired prosecutor takes up his pen to write a novel and revisits a cold case from 25 years earlier which has stuck in his mind. We are brought back to the murder of a young school teacher, the eventual arrest of her rapist/killer, his release, and a lot of guilt at his supposed freedom.The prosecutor has always loved his co-worker who married someone else. He is still obsessed with how people look in photographs and wants to try to solve the case after all this time as it might help him write his book. The subtext is ‘the new Argentina’ as his boss has it, which justifies the killer’s release on the basis of his cooperation with the authorities. Remember what the Argentines used to do? Disappear people? Torture hundreds of thousands of their own citizens then … radically rewrite the census. (Can you imagine the fear on the Falklands as to what they might do to THEM? Luckily the Brits intervened to prevent 3,000 murders.) There is a twist but it seems superficial given the political arena which was called upon to amplify the ‘significance’ of the story. This has a lot less to it than meets the eye, as it happens. And I still want to see the remake.