VENGO
Reviewed by Harvey Karten Cowboy Booking International Director: Tony Gatlif Writer: Tony Gatlif, David Trueba Cast: Antonio Canales, Orestes Villasan Rodriguez, Antonio Perez Dechent, Bobote, Juan Luis Corrientes, Fernando Geurrero Rebollo
"Vengo" is a tale of death, despair, drunkenness, murder and revenge in the province of Seville in southern Spain. If I had not been to the region of Andalucia--one of the many homes of the world's gypsies for hundreds of years--four times already, I'd have been inspired enough by this movie to be on the next evening's Iberia flight. Why? Because I like to be surrounded by death, despair, drunkenness, murder and revenge? Not quite. What provides the inspiration for this movie, even its motif, is not the plot and not even the characters, but the music. Yep. Some stories are plot driven, some character driven: this is music driven. And my oh my oh my, what music! Do you like flamenco? And have you seen flamenco singers and dancers only in touristic spots like the Meson Flamenco in Madrid rather than in the roadside taverns in Andalucian towns like Moron de la frontera and Utrera and in Daniel Pohren's famed finca espartera? Then you're in for a special treat because watching "Vengo" is like seeing a story that takes place in Rio, except that instead of worrying about the plot and characters, the filmmaker takes you to the Carnival.
But I won't get carried away. The movie is not perfect for the very reasons mentioned: its music is just about everything; it's story is as melodramatic and contrived as director Tony Gatlif's 1998 French-Romanian production "Gadjo Dilo--about a young Frenchman hoping to track down a folk singer who is "adopted" by a village of gypsies. In short, "Vengo" is not just a product placement for southern Spain's most exciting region of Andalucia but a nationalistic cri de coeur for the culture of the gypsies. The tight-family structure, however, is the cause for sadness as well, because the people who inhabit Mr. Gatlif's film (mostly nonprofessional actors but some quite professional-sounding singers, dancers and instrumentalists) are committed to seek personal, family vengeance--forget about going to the courts-- for spilled blood.
The viewer who attends a screening of "Vengo" cold, knowing nothing about the movie, will wonder what the heck is going on, because straight away we're in the company of some passionate looking and fervent people from North Africa who appear to be performing spontaneously before a crowd of people standing by, not necessarily paying to hear a concert. We're eased into the story which centers on handsome Caco (Antonio Canales) who is the leader of his gypsy clan. His brother has for reasons unknown killed a member of the derisive Caravacas clan (who grow their hair even longer than do the members of his own group), and is hiding out somewhere in Morocco to avoid the obligatory vengeance of the Caravacas. Caco has more problems. His own daughter has died. He visits the young woman's shrine daily and spends the rest of his time drinking and partying in an attempt to forget her, and what's more he displaces his love for his daughter onto his brother's mentally challenged son, Diego (Orestes Villasan Rodriguez). He sure loves this unfortunate young man, and Diego loves his uncle. When Caco hears from the grapevine that the scuzzy Caravacas folks, unable to locate the murderer, will settle for killing Diego, Caco becomes even more despondent. Thankfully for the audience, instead of showing his despair by crying, he parties all the more, and we're treated to more Flamenco! Guitars, beautiful women singing their hearts out and dancing up a storm, and a bevy of soldiers and citizens clapping their hands in the required convention of palmas fill the Cinemascope screen lensed by Thierry Pouget, who casts all of the Andalucian scenes with an appropriate sepia tint.
Take the melodrama in stride (pretend this is an opera, the kind of thing that would be pure soap were it not for the glorious music), and you'll dig "Vengo."
Not Rated. Running time: 90 minutes. (C)2001, Harvey Karten, film_critic@compuserve.com
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