On the surface, Paz Fabrega's Viaje
seems like it could play in a double-feature with Richard Linklater's
Before Sunrise. Both involve chance encounters that wind up
meaning more, and both are about various aspects of young love.
People meet, they connect, and then there's a question of what
happens next time they meet, if at all.
And yet, Viaje and Before
Sunrise are such different movies, and Viaje falls well
short of Before Sunrise. (To be fair, plenty of movies fall
well short of Before Sunrise.) The reason has everything to do
with chemistry, specifically emulsion (i.e., the blend of separate
substances, often liquids, in this case two strangers—just go with
it). Whereas Before Sunrise uses strong characterization and conversation as an effective emulsifier (a substance that
stabilizes an emulsion), Viaje uses mere proximity as an
emulsifier, which makes its central relationship flimsy and not
particularly viable for whatever personal revelations the two leads
come to at the end.
In Before Sunrise, Jesse (Ethan
Hawke) and Celine (Julie Delpy) are so well defined, and their
flirtation on the train when they first meet has everything to do
with how we project ourselves to the people we're attracted to. Jesse
has to convince Celine that spending time with someone she just met
is a risk worth taking, and Celine is smart enough to be wary, and
they're both guarding their mutual excitement. Since Hawke and Delpy
had a hand in writing their own characters (a key to the
effectiveness of the later Before films), there's something so
organic about they way they mesh. Nathan
Rabin had a great summation of their banter when he wrote up the
film on The Dissolve recently: "From the beginning, their talk
has the rarified air of flirting, of people trying to impress one
another by being the most fascinating, most verbose, most charismatic
version of themselves they can possibly be."
The banter that Jesse and Celine
exchange and their ramble through Vienna play to Linklater's
strengths as a peripatetic writer/director: wander, talk, observe,
react, repeat with variation, allude to previous observations, and
let time do the rest of the work. Eventually a philosophical dialogue
about relationships emerges, concluding in a kind of syllogism about
young love and brief encounters. This deepens in the subsequent
Before outings as time becomes an even more essential
component in this evolving dialogue between Jesse and Celine—in
Before Sunset, it's a question of picking up a thread lost
years ago when time has intervened, in Before Midnight, it's a
question of the ravages of time—and even finds expression in
Linklater's similarly peripatetic Boyhood.
The first encounter between Luciana
(Kattia Gonzalez) and Pedro (Fernando Bolaños) in Viaje
isn't as charming. They're at a party thrown by mutual
friends, they're two strangers, and while Luciana is in a stairway
coming out of the bathroom, Pedro goes up and kisses her. This is
just a couple seconds after introducing himself, and there's no sense
of them flirting or interacting before this moment. (Throughout the
film, Pedro seems pretty rapey rather than rakish.) Rather than
slugging him in the face, Luciana walks away only return to the
stairway and proceed to barge in on Pedro in the bathroom and make
out with him.
Viaje isn't
about Luciana and Pedro just hooking up, though. In just a few
scenes, they have a touchy-feely familiarity with one another like
they've been dating for a little bit rather than strangers who've
just met. The sole interaction that grounds their rapport is a funny
scene in a cab leaving the party in which they discuss subversions of
traditional relationships. For a moment, the film seems aware of what
it's doing, but then it drops this metacommentary about real-life
encounters and movie encounters for a contrivance: Luciana agrees to
go camping with Pedro in the Costa Rican rain forest the next morning
having only met him a few hours before. The remainder of the film
sets Luciana and Pedro in the splendor of nature, trying to suggest
that their connection—based solely on proximity rather than
chemistry—is as organic as the leaves and branches and water and
earth that surrounds them.
It doesn't help matters that Luciana
and Pedro's personalities are blank. They're attractive, young, and a
little lost, but that's about it. Your twenties are a kind of
work-in-progress when defining yourself, but characters in their
twenties shouldn't feel like they're aesthetic works-in-progress.
When Luciana reveals more about herself later in the film and what's
going on in her life, it makes the excursion to the wilderness feel
more contrived, and it makes the sudden attraction to Pedro, with a
tenderness bordering on love, feel inorganic. In Jane Austen's
Persuasion, two side characters fall for one another thanks to
a combination of proximity and time, but here in Viaje,
there's no sense of time propelling the sense of connection.
What's fascinating about this Before
Sunrise/Viaje split is that the events in Before
Sunrise occur in far less time than the events in Viaje,
and yet Before Sunrise feels more organic. That's thanks to
the writing, which allows all banter of all chance encounters to be
presented in a kind of purified form. Before Sunrise has the
contrivances of a lesser romance but winds up feeling like a real
meeting between real people, whereas Viaje starts with the appearance of the real and winds up feeling fake. As Luciana and Pedro are in the woods
together acting like a couple, hanging from tree branches, touching
leaves that shrink at contact, all I could think was that nature
doesn't work that way.
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