LAFF 2015: POCHA -- MANIFEST DESTINY

Claudia (Veronica Sixtos) in Pocha -- Manifest Destiny.

A young woman oportunista

By Miranda Inganni

Raised in the United States, the 20-something Mexican-American Claudia (Veronica Sixtos) never learned Spanish. This causes some Spanish-speakers to refer to her as "Pocha." As the opening cards in co-directors Michael Dwyer and Kaitlin McLaughlin's (who also wrote the script) film informs us, "Pocha" refers to a Latina who does not speak Spanish. It can also refer to fruit that is rotten or discolored. Both definitions will apply to Claudia's destiny. (Pocha for Latinas and Pocho, for Latinos, actually have wider connotations.)

From the start, it becomes clear Claudia is not going to be a film's adorable heroine. She is involved in a credit card scheme where patrons' cards are collected at bars and then swiped and scanned into a phone. Mobile fraud.

Soon enough, Claudia is caught. Since she is not in the United States legally and has now committed a felony, Claudia is sent back to Mexico. It is illegal for her to return to the United States.

Upon deportation, Claudia is faced with no choice but to live with her father, Andrès (Julio Cedillo), and grandmother (Maria Del Carmen Farias) on their sprawling ranch in Northern Mexico. Accustomed to U.S. standards of life, Claudia is deeply discontented to do menial farm tasks and earn a measly amount of money (more measly than in the U.S.) -- $10 dollars a day, not $10 dollars an hour.

After a scary encounter, Claudia finds herself involved with Ricky (Robert Urbina), a dangerous man who happens to be easy on the eyes. Of course, having a gun pointed at her head made the choice easier for Claudia, too.

(Both Sixtos and Urbian were in that Los Angles-based, indie hit, Quinceanera, back in 2006.) 

Caught between loyalties to family and financial gain, Claudia helps her dad on the ranch by day and engages in criminal activity, and sexy time, with Ricky by night. But how long can she keep these narratives separated?

Admirably acted, especially by Sixtos in the lead, Pocha -- Manifest Destiny presents a survivor in Claudia, but one whose actions are those of a lazy, opportunistic and greedy person. Despite her Mexican heritage, Claudia resembles a spoiled American brat. And her predicaments confirm her cynicism.

Underscoring this dichotomy between culture, heritage and language, Pocha -- Manifest Destiny uses both English and Spanish subtitles at all times -- depending on the language being spoken at by the characters.

Pocha -- Manifest Destiny screens at LAFF: June 14, 6:30 p.m., Regal Cinemas. For more information: Pocha.

 

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FILM REVIEW: FORCE MAJEURE

A scene from Force Majeure.

Accidents will dampen

By Ed Rampell

A French term literally translated as 'greater force,'" force majeure is a clause included in contracts to remove liability for natural and unavoidable catastrophes that interrupt the expected course of events and restrict participants from fulfilling obligations.” A so-called “act of god” is a good example of this, and one such occurrence sets the stage for the plot and theme of Force Majeure, a stylish Swedish movie written and directed by Ruben Östlund that scored the Cannes Film Festival’s Jury Prize in Un Certain Regard.

Tomas (Johannes Bah Kunke) and Ebba (Lisa Loven Kongsli) are a Swedish middle class couple vacationing in the French Alps with their young son and daughter. In a bit of clever casting, Vera and Harry are played by real life sister and brother, Clara and Vincent Wettergren. Some sly dialogue in passing fills us in on the fact that this ski holiday is a rarity, as Tomas is so busy with his career. These throwaway lines inform what happens next.

Your reviewer won’t tell you exactly what that is. Except to say that in this precarious world of climate change, war and the like, this morality play ponders what we’d do when faced with a force majure.

(Some reviewers, such as at least one of KPCC’s blabbermouths on FilmWeek, belong to “The Edward Snowden School of Movie Reviewing." willy-nilly revealing punchlines, plot points and the like, spoiling viewers’ own joy of discovery, because these WikiLeak-type bigmouths are probably trying to enhance their own reviews by misappropriating films’ best jokes, storylines, etc., to burnish their lackluster coverage.)

The perpetrator of the apparent misdeed is in denial over the course of action (uh, or lack of) when the titular force majeure happens, which rocks the marriage and parent-child relationships to the core. The film becomes an examination of gender roles, marital relations, parental responsibility and of this petit bourgeois couple and their children. Interaction with a janitor at the posh Alpine resort where the family is vacationing also cannily injects a class dimension into the story. As things come undone the perp seeks redemption.

As recently observed in a review of August Strindbergs The Dance of Death by L.A.’s A Noise Within theatre company, Force Majeure is also in a long line of “arts reflecting the Scandinavian psyche, including dramatists Strindberg, Henrik Ibsen, painter Edvard Munch, filmmakers Victor Sjöström, Carl Theodor Dreyer and of course Ingmar Bergman... Even the marriage of Birgitte Nyborg (Sidse Babett Knudsen), the fictionalized first female prime minister of Denmark in the stellar Danish TV series Borgen, falls apart -- not even her nation’s most powerful person can keep her marriage together.”

But for this me, Force Majeure is most in keeping with the theme of Joseph Conrad’s Lord Jim. In any case, there is some stunning cinematography of ski and snow. Plus excellent use of Antonio Vivaldi’s “The Four Seasons.”  Also, the ending of this highly philosophical film reminded me of Luis Bunuel’s 1972 film, The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie -- but since loose lips sink ships, you can find out for yourself what is meant by that.  

 

 

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