La Horas Del Dia

Director: Jaime Rosales
Starring: Alex Bredemuhl, Vincente Romero, Maria Antonia Martinez, Agata Toca

Not again – that was my first reaction to the recent report on campus shooting that occurred in University of Illinois on, ironically, Valentine ’s Day. The antagonist, one Steven Kazmierczak, 27, shot 27 students within 90 seconds, killing 5 of them, before turning the gun on himself. The love of murder seems to cling in the air, the fearful memories of the Virginia Tech incident having barely left us. The most worrying part, however, is how in both cases, and several others, the shooters are almost identified as quiet and reserved individuals who seem too mild to do bad.

In this light, ‘Le Horas Del Dia’, the second film screened on the 3^rd Spanish Film Fest at The Arts House, come to mind as really relevant in portraying the grinding psyche of the seemingly unperturbed – the restless sleep of the spinning top.

This story follows Abel – an ordinary man, with an ordinary job and life – through several ordinary daily problems and ordinary conversation: an entirely non-descript life with all it mundane repetitions. However, underneath his amicable and calm veneer, hidden in Abel is a murderer waiting for his next victim.

An unlikely thriller, “Las Horas Del Dia” is definitely not plot driven. In fact, it is quite the opposite. Shot entirely without music, the film puts Abel’s prosaic life in stark relief. Scenes change very slowly and a single action may take up to one minute of screen time; conversations are blatantly repeated at times and the silence between responses have no fillers to disperse the tense antagonism; locations are usually almost empty except for a few stragglers who randomly emerge.

The result is intensive – like the skin of the water stretch to its limits; a stone falls and creates a ripples in the pool that swiftly disappears. Upon this stagnant backdrop, Abel’s murders become inordinately gruesome, and poignant. He characteristically kills his victims by suffocation, a parallel to his own suffocating life of silent discontent. After every murder, Abel achieves a sort of catharsis and returns to his routines as if nothing had happened; then the cycle continues in its irrevocable, terrifying revolution, an idea reinforced by the film’s symmetrical timeline.

Evidently, the alienation of the city has not left us; couple that with increased globalization, the entire world is becoming a living tick-a-tock. Terrorists are only those who are more forthright with their discontent; buried in many of us is the same malignant tumor of discontent that may result in less vast, but equally inhumane actions. “Las Horas Del Dia” does not provide a solution (perhaps there isn’t any), but it does show that if nothing is done, the vicious cycle will simply go on, and on, and on.

Welcome to the Voices

I picked up “Welcome to the Voice” [2007] from the Esplanade Library yesterday, when I was desperately scanning the shelves for an interesting record. It was the inclusion of both Barbara Bonney and Sting, two singers I know come from vastly different genres, in this work that immediately caught my attention. Although Sting’s crossing over into the classical genre is not unprecedented (Songs From the Labyrinth [2006]), his participation in this project is of a vastly different nature – one where the pop voice is juxtaposed with the classical voice in an eclectic musical tapestry.

The story follows opera-stricken foundry worker Dionysius (Sting) battle myriad forces – ghosts of opera divas, factories worker, his friend (Robert Wyatt), a policeman (Elvis Costello) – that try to pry him away from his beloved opera singer (Barbara Bonney). A collaborative effort between Steve Nieve and Muriel Teodori, I think much of the credit should be conferred on the former, who wrote the music; the libretto, written by the latter, was a disappointment, to say the least.

To begin with, the premise of the story is unconvincing and rather trite. Blind passion is a common theme in operas of the past; but for a modern production, a lack of complex reasoning may appear as sluggishness in plot construct. When the musical closed in on the end with the question “The voices that bond us / do you know what it is?”, I had to suppress the urge to drawl a sarcastic “No?”. The diction is also at best charming - nothing spectacular. More often than not, however, the images invoked are awkward and confusing. Moreover, the scansion mismatches the music too frequently for comfort.

The music, on the other hand, is truly fascinating. Widely varied voices are brought together to weave a multi-fabricated tapestry of a desolate yet emotionally charged musical landscape: the sultry songs of Sting; the bright vocalization of Barbara; the broad deep intonation of Elvis etc. These strains are also placed in interesting combinations to effect an otherworldly sensation. Fortunately for me, the singers have neglected to enunciate the words, hence allowing me to enjoy the sounds without being hampered by the unkempt verbiage.

Another intriguing part of the composition is the instrumentation. It employs an impressive array of instruments ranging from the shakuhachi to the theremin and to the Brodsky Quartet. The music engages all of these instruments livelily, bouncing among the familiar comfort of a string quartet, the edgily electronic synthesizer and theremin, and the jazzy saxophone and guitar. The tone colours complement the harmonies, that vacillate between agreeable cadences and aimless wanderings to shape an affective emotional atmosphere.

On the whole, I find it a really agreeable project. Although it would have been more insightful if the diametric stereotyping of voices (the “sacred voices” of the operatic singers versus the “profane voices” of the pop singers) has not been imposed, the marriage of the two genres harkens a most interestingly new direction at the crossroads where the death of classical music and the inconsequence of pop music meet.