QUICK’N DIRTY: LIVE FROM SAN SEBASTIAN
The action takes place on the dusty mountains rural Mexico, a barren and desolate landscape. Thirty-something=year-old Lázaro (Lázaro Rodríguez) is aloof, clueless and frugal with words. He works inside an underground mine several hours a day, and lives with his mother and his aunt Rosa (Rosa Estela Juárez), who happens to be good-looking and of a similar-ish age. He thinks that his remarkably insalubrious job has led to breathing problems, and asks his doctor for a 10-day sick note. His name carries a clue as to the veracity of his claims: biblical Lazarus was covered with sore and boils all over his body. Perhaps Lázaro indeed has got scars that can’t be seen.
The problem is that our hapless protagonist lacks basic communication skills, and his only negotiation token are lies. That’s a generational – perhaps even societal – trait. His mother and aunt suggest that he denies ever seeing a dead man by the roadside. He insists that his doctor puts a cast on his leg so that he can dodge work. He is confident that she did just that with other patients. He lies to his boss about his commitment. Yet Lázaro is no manipulative crook. That is literally the only currency he knows. His mother explains to her sister that Lázaro’s eyes turn green when he lies, lending another layer of absurdity to this world of untruths. What better way to cover up a lie than with yet another lie?
True or not, Lázaro has convinced himself that he has respiratory problems. And he is hellbent on getting an oxygen tank. He sees another another doctor, this time an elderly man, and persuades him to give him the device in exchange for a romantic dinner with his sister. He makes arrangements without ever consulting with the woman in question, only to hammer out a solution when he gets home. The encounter does take place, but only with a very peculiar twist guaranteed to surprise both the ageing doctor and audiences.
Filmed with little artificial light, Copper boasts dark and cold hues, and a vintage image texture compatible with the 1980s. The entire affair all feels a little Brechtian, particularly when combined with vaguely stagey and distant performances. There’s also a twist of deadpan thrown into the mix. Some of the absurd conversations – in a world where lying is entirely normalised – are hilarious. A scene when the family of three rehearse the eventual “date” with the doctor is particularly revealing. There are a couple of tense and terse close-ups of Lázaro. They serve the purpose of injecting some ambiguity into the proceedings. It is never entirely clear how much our protagonist hides under his manifold figurative masks.
Written by the Mexican director himself, in association with Juan Francisco Maldonado, Copper is an original film with a finely crafted-script and well-coached actors. A clunky music score with sparse and irritating piano notes, and an abrupt ending prevent the story from reaching its full potential. You will leave the cinema with the sensation that a rather decent film remained unfinished.
Copper is in the Official Competition of the 73rd San Sebastian International Film Festival.
