Saturday, November 21, 2009

same ingredients, different outcome.

The most problematic part of Marcelo Piñeyro’s film adaptation of Piglia’s novel Money to Burn, titled Burnt Money, was his treatment of the relationship between The Twins. Aside from looking alike, the characters of Nene and Angel were actually separated throughout the movie by their emotions, as they each took turns playing the part of the jilted lover. First Nene was upset because Angel no longer wanted a physical relationship (though he never explains his new found religious motives to Nene and Nene never asks). Later, Angel is nearly pushed over the edge at his discovery that Nene has been having an affair with Giselle. The movie therefore focused on the pair as lovers rather than friends.


In the book it was quite the opposite. The Twins were friends first. In fact, more than friends, as they functioned together like one person. Dorda’s illness (hearing voices) is not something that has just recently developed; it is what makes him the physical entity of The Twins, while The Kid takes care of the mental. True, there was a physical relationship, but the book dismissed it as something that happens but hasn’t for a while. Additionally, Dorda’s belief that semen is sacred is long-held and does not inhibit the physical relations between the men. Neither The Kid nor Dorda seem concerned by the fact that they have not slept together in a while—it is not what their relationship is based on. Additionally, The Kid’s short and mainly physical relations with the girl did not affect Dorda. While the movie incorporated these details from the novel, Piñeyro skewed them to reach a different end.

Saturday, November 14, 2009

trying to find a connection.

After all, what is robbing a bank compared to founding one?
Bertolt Brecht

This quote is the epigraph to Ricardo Piglia’s novel Money To Burn. Though we briefly discussed Brecht’s words in class, my own feelings around it are a bit different. My immediate thought after reading this was culpability—that criminals and the established order are equally culpable for their actions and that all those actions are not that different from one another. No group is free from dirt.

It’s probable that I’ve been taken in this direction for two reasons. First, I am unfamiliar with Brecht’s work. Second, a quote in the novel is very similar to an excerpt from the book I read immediately before: Norman Mailer’s Miami and the Siege of Chicago. In Mailer’s work of nonfiction, he details the 1968 Presidential Conventions. That of the Democrats took place in Chicago and was marked by protests against the Vietnam War, which resulted in extreme violence on the part of the Chicago Police Force. Regardless, the two quotes that resonated are these:

“They know they are lucky; they know they are getting away with a successful solution to the criminality they can taste in their blood.” Miami and the Siege of Chicago, Norman Mailer (174)

“The police always act in the conviction that the gunmen behave just like themselves, meaning that gangsters have the same unstable sense of balance when it comes to taking decisions or precautions as does the common man to whom a uniform—representing authority—has been handed, along with a weapon and the power to use it.” Money to Burn, Ricardo Piglia, (144)

Though the circumstances relayed in each book are quite different, the sentiment is the same: there is no clear line between good and bad, in fact the similarities between different sides can be astounding. It’s very possible that because these quotes reminded me of each other, I’m reaching to make them fit both with each other and with Piglia’s epigraph. Nonetheless, I see a connection there.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Pantoja vs. Pantoja

As Juan commented on my last post, Llosa’s novel fits well with Stam’s idea of multiple tracks. I find it interesting that though Stam was referring to the advantages of filmmaking, it is the written form of Captain Pantoja that is more interesting and tack-filled, rather than Francisco Lombardi’s film adaptation.

As I mentioned before, the novel has several scenes layered together in the more straightforward narrative sections, as well as letters and reports. Additionally, there is a radio show transcript. Though all of these things are only experienced through the written word, Llosa is still achieving a story through different mediums. On the other hand, Lombardi’s film does not seek replicate this. At one point a report is dubbed over the film and the film has sound, of course, but there was much less drive to push the medium of film.

I think a possible reason for this is Lombardi’s desire to create films in the “American Style.” This would explain his emphasis on the movie’s visual aspects (bright colors, beautiful women) and the love story, rather than the complications and nuances of the story itself. Overall, Lombardi’s film seemed more like a Romantic Comedy (with hints of tragedy) than a fitting adaptation of a Llosa novel.

Monday, November 2, 2009

narrating Pantoja.

In her blog on a the same subject, Katrina Sinno describes Captain Pantoja and the Special Service by Mario Vargas Llosa as complicated, “I was distracted with the format and what felt like interruptions in letters.” I completely understand this feeling. As Sinno points out, the interruptions help fill out the story’s details, however it can be difficult to adjust from one writing form to another. I believe, however, that once one understands that this story be told through different narratives (similar to Bram Stoker’s Dracula) this aspect of the book is easier to cope with than the jump from scene to scene within the more traditional third-person narrative portions of the novel.

From one paragraph to the next, the scenes jump in time, setting, and swap characters. This is almost cinematic in an extreme way—constant montages or cutting from scene to scene without notice. As the novel begins this way, I found it difficult to get my bearings. By the middle of the novel, I began to actually appreciate this style. Around page 100, the switches between Pantoja with the Brazilian and his wife and mother talking helped build the tension between his two lives. Also, if an interaction is referenced, it is often the scene of the next paragraph, which further explains relationships and scenarios. I’m not sure I’m completely behind this way of storytelling yet, but I am able to see its benefits.