QUICK AND DIRTY: LIVE FROM CANNES
Just as a humble worker informs his wife that the money will come to their house in three months time, his son gets violently ill. They are expecting another baby, but finances are tight; currency is dealt in “bags of potatoes”. Growing violently angrier, the lead character fantasises about becoming a guerilla warrior, in an hour long feature inspired by Soviet cinema.
Thought lost for decades, this restoration arrives three years after the director’s death, having lovingly been pieced back by a team that included Ciro Durán’s son Vladimir. La Paga is at heart a story about family, so it is fitting that someone from Durán’s household was involved with the project. What’s more, the themes resonate today considering the Trump administration, a government that prides on allowing the rich keep their “hard-earned money”.
La Paga was completed in Colombia, although it could just as easily be Venezuela, where Durán spent much of his life. The location is arbitrary, as the narrative is so universal. The workers slave and break their backs trying to tend the land, while their bosses profit from their sorrow. Time is spent on crops the labourers will not eat, and the local businesses refuse to compromise on prices. The central character pleads with the doctor to give his child a purgative; a castor oil is tossed his way.
The minute he earns some cash, a tailor does everything he can in order to trick the unnamed hero out of it. A good suit, it appears, is essential to wear in a church, to pray to a God who was born in a stable. The mishaps take their toll, and the donkey notices a change in his owner. When the hero turns to his mule, the animal shakes its head away from him. It has sensed an evil presence from within.
Eventually, the movie adopts dream sequences, complete with a battle scene that may have been inspired by such Soviet fodder as Baltic Skies (Vladimir Yakovlevich Vengerov, 1960). The upper classes are powerless to defend themselves against the mighty guerilla warriors and their swords. Heartbreakingly, these scenes are only an illusion: in time honoured tradition, the have’s profit from the have nots.
Shot in black and white, La Paga uses very little music, and almost as few words, but when the lines hit, they go for the punch. “Peas again,” the pregnant wife sighs; “not a day of meat!” These luxuries audiences of the 21st century take for granted were given to them by families such as those depicted here, and the restoration now serves as a historical document about Latin American politics.
Talking stylistically, much of this work is set outdoors in a sweltering heat. Sweat pours off the brows of the actors; their clothes hang to the core muscles. In this cavernous weather, tempers fly. Burning like an abandoned dog, the main character slowly loses his faith in the world. More than 60 years after the completion of La Paga, producers,directors and writers continue to create movies in this style.
Proving that film only needs a bare bone story to be impactful, Dúran survives both in his son, and his work. The imperfections are notable in La Paga – missing shots, choppy edits, awkward line deliveries – but as a debut for an aspiring director with socialistic leanings, it’s an impressive piece. While it would be incorrect to say the movie hasn’t aged a day, as it is steeped in its time, Dúran created a work that stands up decades after it was released, digested and disappeared. That is the sign of an artist in control.
La Paga just showed in the 78th edition the Cannes International Film Festival.
