(1
hr & 37 min, color, 2011)
Any serious film-maker dreams of creating a work of cinema that is simultaneously both contemporary and timeless. So many even of the most celebrated and quality motion pictures have a habit of dating over the space of a generation or two, losing some of their cutting edge because of shifts in mores or changes in political trends and public taste or the expansion of social awareness. But if I surmise accurately, “A Better Life” is so wedded to the rudiments of human struggle that it will prove over the coming decades to have great staying power. There is no foreseeable reason why a half century from now it will not still touch hearts and minds in a profound way. It concerns the struggles of a single Hispanic father in the early days of the twenty-first century in Los Angeles, living under the cloud of possible deportation. But it is not essentially about immigration or any issue peculiar to our time; it is a testament to quiet moral courage and parental devotion, whatever the conditions imposed upon them.
This is not to say that it
is or will remain a popular movie. Box
office receipts since its summer release in 2011 are nothing to write home
about. But it is superlative storytelling,
and as long as there is an audience for sensitive and well crafted domestic
dramas on screen, it will have a personal if not a commercial impact for those
who seek it out.
Carlos Galindo, wonderfully
portrayed by Demian Bishir (Oscar nominee), is not a saintly man nor a person
of any special intelligence. In fact, it
is an act of surprising carelessness on his part that compounds his troubles as
an illegal. Uppermost in his concerns is
his fourteen-year-old son Luis (Jose Julian), whose sole custody is his, the
mother having deserted her husband and child years before. Luis is torn between the urgings of his
father to stay in school and get an education and the pressure from peers to
join a gang and depend upon their “protection.”
After years of working sporadically as a gardener, most recently
employed by a friend, Carlos seizes upon the opportunity to go into business
for himself. His employer/friend, having
accrued a sizeable nest egg, wants to sell his truck and move back to Mexico,
where he hopes to settle. Carlos buys
the truck with money borrowed from his sister (Dolores Heredia), Luis’
aunt. The big handicap of course is his
status as an illegal immigrant, which makes it impossible for him to get a
driver’s license or to register the vehicle under his name. Out of devotion to Luis and spurred on by his
wish to locate in a better section of town, where Luis could enroll in a more
quality school, he takes the risk. But
on the first day as an employer of other laborers the truck is stolen, and he
and Luis must set out to find it without giving away their secret. Their painful search is the highlight of the
compelling drama.
The plot puts me in memory
of “The Bicycle Thief,” an Italian film of the late 1940s in which a peon who
has been out of regular work for some while in that postwar time lands a job,
one that requires the use of a two-wheeler.
Its theft early in the game likewise propels him and his son (that one a
preadolescent) on an equally dangerous quest to retrieve it. Like them Carlos and Luis run into more
trouble than they ever expect. But “A
Better Life” is not derivative. There is
far more difference than similarity between the two stories. For one thing, the Italian only has people on
the street to contend with. Carlos’
nemesis is a rigid, pervasive legal system with very long arms. For another, finding and retrieving a large
four-wheel road vehicle is much more complicated an undertaking than the
reclaiming of a bike. And the
relationship between this gardener and his teenage boy is much more intricate
and complex, and the emotional payoff much greater. The last scene in which father and son speak
face to face is tremendous, as both of them peel away the layers of both family
history and their own hearts and souls.
The footage contains
glimpses of this man’s world that are seen through his eyes. At a couple of points we are riding with him
along L.A.’s streets and he gazes longingly at ordinary people walking by,
children playing, well dressed residents enjoying their day in the comfort of
their high brow neighborhoods. He is so
close but so far from them, probably imagining himself as a legitimate citizen
safely making his way wherever he goes instead of the outsider who must “keep
my head down.” He scrambles through a
posh restaurant in search of the truck thief who is allegedly employed there,
embarrassed and conspicuous in front of the guests in dinner clothes. Next to his son’s school he watches the
students swarming out the door, physically a part of their society, yet not a
noticeable part. Whatever our views on
immigration, here is a man we cannot help but feel for, seeing as how he is as
honest and hardworking as his station in life will permit. And he has always prized family loyalty. His sister credits him with rescuing her from
social oblivion when first she found herself in the country.
Eric Eason and Roger L.
Simon are responsible for the original screenplay and its discerning
dialogue. I especially appreciate the
way they fleshed out the character of Luis every bit as much as Carlos. The boy has some bridges of his own to cross
and choices of direction to make. Chris
Weitz did the directing, a Hispanic himself.
It is my hope that the film will do much for the burgeoning Latino film
industry. A small portion of the
dialogue is in Spanish, but I can assure every non-Spanish speaking person that
none of it obscures in any fashion what is being exchanged between the
characters. There is no barrier posed by
accent or style of delivery.
I recommend this very
highly for anyone of any race or ethnicity above the age of eleven. All of it feels completely authentic, and it
is lovingly framed and mounted. Get it
from Netflix.
To read other entries in my
blog, please consult its website:
enspiritus.blogspot.com
I welcome feedback. Direct it to bobracine@verizon.net
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