Plata quemada (eng subs) [2000] Marcelo Pineyro

http://bayimg.com/gAIMMaaDL Burnt Money (2000) Plata quemada (original title) http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0227277/ Plata quemada (English: Burnt Money) (2000) is an Argentine film directed by Marcelo Pineyro, and written by Pineyro and Marcelo Figueras. Leonardo Sbaraglia ... El Nene Eduardo Noriega ... Ángel / Narrator Pablo Echarri ... El Cuervo Leticia Brédice ... Giselle Ricardo Bartis ... Fontana Dolores Fonzi ... Vivi Carlos Roffé ... Nando Daniel Valenzuela ... Tabaré Héctor Alterio ... Losardo Claudio Rissi ... Relator Luis Ziembrowski ... Florian Barrios Harry Havilio ... Carlos Tulian Roberto Vallejos ... Parisi Adriana Varela ... Cantante Cabaret Ángel Alves ... Prostituta 3 Parque de Diversiones The film won, among other awards, the Goya Award for Best Spanish Language Foreign Film in 2001. The picture stars Leonardo Sbaraglia, Eduardo Noriega, Pablo Echarri, Leticia Bredice, Ricardo Bartis, Héctor Alterio, and others. It is based on Ricardo Piglia's 1997 Planeta prize-winning novel of the same name (but translated into English as Money to Burn) that was inspired by a true story of a famous bank robbery in Buenos Aires in 1965. The film, a recreation of their now-legendary story, is an action thriller of the exploits and red-hot passion of two thugs. The work was partly funded by INCAA. The film is based on the true story of a hold-up in Buenos Aires in 1965 and the subsequent flight of the criminals to nearby Montevideo. The film makes several changes about the main characters, usually following Ricardo Piglia's book. El Nene, whose real name was Brignone, was actually the educated son of a judge; in an interview he said that he never knew what would happen with the money. He described Dorda –renamed Angel in the film– as the most good-natured of the robbers, whereas Malito –Fontana in the film– supposedly evoked fear. From pictures of Malito, he was probably considerably younger than the character in the film. El Cuervo's real name was Mereles. The film has been said to be more authentic than Ricardo Piglia's book on which it was based. The dates indicated at the end of the film (28 September to 4 November 1965), however, are not entirely accurate as the final attack on the fugitives' hiding place in Montevideo took place on Saturday, 6 November 1965. Three days earlier, the fugitives had stolen a car to exchange it for the stolen one they had, and thereby had provoked a shooting with the Uruguayan police; the shooting had taken place next to the TV channel canal 8 from Montevideo, which would later be the only channel with live coverage of the siege. In the siege, both El Nene and Dorda/Angel died; according to a police officer who was interviewed for a documentary about the events and the release of Pineyro's film, the bodies of the two were found holding hands; they were, however, separated before the official police photographs were taken from the location. Both were half-naked and in underwear, in a pool of blood, as shown in the film. In contrast to the movie, El Cuervo/Mereles was mortally wounded, but did not die during the siege. Spat on, hit, kicked and insulted by the police, he was relocated to a public hospital, where he died a few hours later. The three were anonymously buried in the Northern Cemetery of Montevideo at 8am on Wednesday, 10 November 1965. Only El Nene's body was reclaimed by his family and transferred back to Argentina. In February 1966, Malito/Fontana was seen in Flores, a Buenos Aires neighborhood, and there shot by the police. Based on the real-life exploits of a gang of Argentinian robbers in late 1965, Burnt Money offers a stylish, pulpy combination of sweaty hunks and blazing guns. It's the sort of film that leaves its characters soaked in blood, perspiration, spunk or -- ideally -- all three at once. The hunks in question are a pair of sharp-dressed lovers known in Buenos Aires crime circles as the Twins, which connotes their closeness rather than any physical resemblance. Nene (Leonardo Sbaraglia, an Argentinian actor who was in director Marcelo Pineyro's three previous films) is utterly devoted to Angel (Spanish heartthrob Eduardo Noriega of Open Your Eyes). But Angel's mental instability and odd preoccupation with his "sacred" semen threaten them both. The Twins' drug intake doesn't help matters, either. After two cops are killed during a robbery, the Twins go on the lam in Uruguay with the rest of the gang. Though they're ordered to keep a low profile, cabin fever eventually gets to them all. The action grows steamier when Angel spurns Nene and drives him into the arms of Giselle (Leticia Brédice), a lonely prostitute. The story of the Twins was a favourite of the tabloids at the time, but it wasn't until Pineyro read Plata Quemada, a 1997 novel about them by Argentinian writer Ricardo Piglia, that he realized the cinematic possibilities. "I enjoyed the reading," Pineyro explains in an email interview, "but at first I didn't think I could make a film from it. The idea of a movie came after a second reading, when I discovered the deep, passionate and moving love story of the Twins lying beneath the violent events that are the main concern of the novel. "Then I went to the press and police files searching for more. What I found confirmed that feeling. I remember very well a black-and-white photograph I found in those files. It showed the Twins' dead bodies, almost naked, pierced by hundreds of bullets. They were surrounded by destruction, but their hands were tightly held. That strong sense of love in the middle of extreme violence was the key to understanding them, the point of departure to narrate their story." This image of the Twins pierced like a pair of rough-trade Saint Sebastians is an understandably alluring one. Like such films as The Krays, Gangster No. 1 and even Reservoir Dogs, Burnt Money derives a lot of its heat by exploring the homoerotic tensions that exist between men in the hyper-macho criminal underworld. Pineyro explains that, in the underworld of Buenos Aires, "homosexuality wasn't -- and isn't -- a cause of rejection, as it was, and probably still is, in the middle classes. Homosexuality wasn't associated with weakness. Besides, homosexuality was part of the life in jail. Nobody in the underworld had prejudices about it." But the characters' sexual identities are at once open and closeted in the film. One of the most exciting things about Burnt Money is how it inverts the standard pattern of gay relationships on film. The Twins' relationship is transformed from one that is open and sensual into one in which their desires are frustrated and repressed -- with suitably apocalyptic repercussions. That relates to what Pineyro calls the main issue of the film, "the disassociation between sexuality and emotionality, between sex and love. These characters didn't have a problem with their homosexuality, but they couldn't face love. From their point of view, love was a type of weakness -- it had nothing to do with their world. "This disassociation between sexuality and emotionality is the reason of the unease produced by their sexual desire. They can't face this fear, so they try to escape. Family, social and religious mandates are the causes that provoke this disassociation that determines our characters. The strong homophobia is only the symptom, and it shows itself as violence in one of them and as mysticism in the other." Those tensions make for a tale that's unusually operatic, given the lurid world of the thieves as well as the period trappings of the go-go '60s (which are accentuated by savvy musical choices like the Troggs' "Wild Thing" and various kitschy European pop songs). Burnt Money may not be able to sustain the intended intensity for its two-hour running time, but it's still plenty hot and audacious. And because of the manner in which Burnt Money conflates crime and repressed sexual desire, some critics have dubbed it a "gay Bonnie and Clyde" (even though the most athletic onscreen couplings are actually hetero). Pineyro admits to being a big fan of Arthur Penn's film for its "anarchic point of view, the way it updates a story of the '30s, the powerful narration and the sadness," but he passed on its "deep social reflection about who are the real robbers in a capitalist society" in favour of more emotional concerns. Though Pineyro cites such manly-man movies as Le Samouri, The Wild Bunch and Midnight Cowboy as influences, two more important touchstones were Wong Kar-wai's Happy Together (which featured another pair of tormented male lovers in Buenos Aires) and Last Tango in Paris. Those films "focus on sexuality and emotionality," says Pineyro, "and they question the possibility of love despite social, religious and familial mandates. Claustrophobia -- the fantasy and the nightmare of isolation -- is an important issue too." It's unsurprising that Pineyro thinks so, because his fevered Burnt Money is a real sweatbox of a movie. Burnt Money is the first Argentinian film in a dog's age to get wide exposure in the U.S. and Canada, while Lucrecia Martel's La Ciénaga (see review page 21) and Lisandro Alonso's La Libertad (hopefully coming soon) have had great critical success on the 2001 festival circuit. Pineyro is pleased with the international exposure received by these films but resists the idea that this represents a big jump in the quality of the country's output. "Argentinian cinema has a long tradition and lots of very good movies and talented actors and directors," says Pineyro. "The small exposure our cinema got was related to the isolation of our country. Now things are changing. And that's good. International exposure for our movies could bring fresh air and a new strength for our cinema."

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