Tetro (+/-).

I conceived momentarily two unique reviews for Tetro: one absolutely positive and one absolutely negative. The problem, aside from time and discipline, was that it's not that simple. My personal response to the film was fractional but not equally divided, yes, and it's also not really negative in any complete way. The truth is that I am conscious of a former self who would wish to question Coppola on a number of decisions made in the second half of his new film Tetro. The old-me I speak of preferred films that did not veer inexplicably from an established course midway through. He also didn't think much about dramatic alterations and embellishments appearing in an otherwise decent, naturalistic narrative thread. Don't worry about that guy, because you see he's now had the chance to see many films in that vein, and he's fallen asleep during a number of them, and he's deeply loved many more (Moscow, Belgium was a terrific one this year). If Coppola wants to go for the KO in the second half of his film and completely depart from the atmosphere of Earth I'm very prepared to let him. I know from experience I'll remember it more, it'll be talked about more, I'll probably think about it more, and overall it was potentially the right decision. After all it was the decision he made and since he made the film independently it must have been the decision he wanted to make. Thank god Coppola can make the films he wants to make.

Tetro is a gorgeous film all the way through. The sequence in the convertible as the protagonists travel through the glacial freeway, with Gallo (Yes Gallo! Thank you!) executing the classic glasses-tilt while the glaciers reflect the sun's light, which in turn twinkles in his eyes, is a visually symbolic equivalent of my personal experience watching the film. Such beautiful moments glistened all the way through. I don't know how genuinely felt the narrative was, but I don't doubt the intimacy conveyed by the camera.

The thing that bugs me is the film's metamorphosis from Bennie's journey into Coppola's trip. I personally couldn't continue, at an emotional level, to the end. The characters became completely lost to me, and their experiences felt like isolated incidents of cinematic/operatic grandeur. Part of this I think is because of the suddenly distended timeline, and part of this I think is because of the change of locale. I blame myself for struggling through the latter transition. Both are causes of my emotional withdrawal, and perhaps both are conscious decisions on Coppola's part meant to incite exactly what I'm describing.

When Copolla evokes the bizarre, cinematic, and sweet from Buenos Aires, I know he's doing it as much through a love of Buenos Aires as a love of film. And the way he blends the two in Tetro, the way they meet and come together, is like the way my idea of a place I'm about to visit blends with the factual and living place upon my visit. Through Tetro I enter into a dual-layered Buenos Aires, as overjoyed and burdened as Bennie. I enter into Bennie's experience. It's why I love the beginning. It's what's exploratory and exciting about it, and it's also what's involving and transcendent. It reminds me of my own vacations as a youth, and it reminds me of watching films about places I dreamed of vacationing. This sentiment is mirrored in the film. The film will often mirror reality, mirror cinematic precedents, mirror an idealized/romanticized image, mirror itself, and mirror mirrors within itself. It fabricates backstories to emulate them five minutes later. It's subtle sometimes. It's not altogether analogous. It's sometimes blatant, and sometimes far-fetching. It's sometimes decent and sometimes contrived. I hate some of it and love some of it.

All these qualities, including the bad ones, and as I grow older kind of especially the bad ones, I look for in films. Just give it to me real, or if not real then just the only way you can, and if you can't make the film express your vision, just give it to me fucked up. It'll be cool with me.