Amores Perros was the first collaboration between Alejandro Gonzalez Iñárritu and Guillermo Arriaga. Both of them proved to be true filmmakers, talented, and, most importantly, two of the most relevant voices in New Mexican Cinema.
The plot is divided in three sub-plots: three love… More
Amores Perros was the first collaboration between Alejandro Gonzalez Iñárritu and Guillermo Arriaga. Both of them proved to be true filmmakers, talented, and, most importantly, two of the most relevant voices in New Mexican Cinema.
The plot is divided in three sub-plots: three love stories impacted by the same car crash. They are Octavio y Susana, Daniel y Valeria, and El Chivo y Maru. Besides the accident, they have but one thing in common: they depend more on dogs than other human beings. Dogs are the objects of their affection, their faithful companions, their gates to transgression. Arriaga found a way to involve the man-dog relationship intimately with the love chronicles recounted, and such is the closeness that at a certain point it seems the two are not parallel, but that they are intertwined within the psychology of the characters. This is already a fantastic achievement in screenwriting.
Although the violence and the blood are abundant, Amores Perros has a visceral force seldom present in contemporary filmmaking, especially in films in which aggression and brute force are as crucial. I think we have become insensible to gore; by itself, gratuitously, it hardly means anything today and hardly causes any other reaction than disgust. In Amores Perros all elements are skillfully interwoven, and so it impossible to unlink emotion and injury. The violence in this film, towards both animals and people, originates pain, impotence, frustration, and most importantly, a feeling that what we are watching is altogether wrong.
The characters are surprisingly realistic. There is no "good" guy, or "bad" guy. There is no black and white, but half-tints, like it is in life. As men and women we are inherently weak, we make mistakes, we have silly illusions, we negate reality, we succumb to temptations, and we feel remorse... above all, we are not always coherent and we are not always well-intentioned towards others. We have interests, we have friends, enemies. All these facets of human nature are present in the film. A few random examples: the fact Ramiro hits Susana doesn't make her prefer Octavio, who treats her well. The fact Daniel looks after Valeria doesn't mean she will be thankful, and so on: selfish, unpleasant realities, but nothing less than true. By the end, we get the feeling that Octavio, Susana, Valeria, Daniel, El Chivo, Maru, and all the dogs, do in fact exist, somewhere in Mexico City, and it is completely due to the excellent script by Guillermo Arriaga, who managed to dissect three pairs of soul and transfer them, dirt and all, to the silver screen.