L'amour aux temps du choléra

Well, first of all I truly enjoyed the movie. Even though it is not the best movie ever I still recommend to everyone. It is still a beautiful story which I think you would enjoy if you haven't read the book, and for those of you who have, it is very interesting to see how the director tries to capture Marquez's book in a movie.

The movie however has really big problems, the most important one, which is the main reason why I didn't think much of this movie is that it is in English. Its a huge mistake because all the language used in the book (which is beautiful) is just LOST, therefore the movie automatically looses most of its potential. Even worse than making the movie in English is making the main dialogs in English and the background dialogs in Spanish, it just doesn't make any sense. Its ridiculous. Finally, Giovanna Mezzogiorno's acting is not very good.

I have seen many comments and reviews that agree with what I just said; but as I said before, even if it isn't a really good film I still recommend it. You should see the movie, but most importantly, READ the book!!!

We all know the book is fantastic, but since the beginning I thought it was going to be difficult to capture its magic in a film, so I went to see it without too high expectations. There were some details that I found great, for example the music, the scenery, the colors etc. BUT I think the feeling of the story couldn't be reached nor transmitted at all, and the acting was below average. To me, the characters at the film were not interesting at all -anything could have been changed from the book and I wouldn't have cared- they were simply "other people". Shakira's (Colombian singer) songs with amazing tropical shots at the background are the best this film has to offer.

This was a vulgar and empty film. There was no content, only "emotions," for most of it, and very flat characters. It was exploitative in the extreme, so much so that emotional intensity the film was striving for ended up seeming a bit like a joke, and had no actual pull.

If you take away all of the psychology from characters and reduce them to "basic emotions" such as love, pain, sadness, fear, etc., but those emotions are not motivated by the story, then what you have is an empty spectacle, a bit like a live show at Disneyland. Not to mention the painful and unintentional mix of gritty realism and artifice, such as characters aging at different rates, having glued on mustaches that look like they're going to fall off, having an old head and a young body in a nude shot, or one character having a New York accent while the rest have Spanish accents (why wasn't the film in Spanish to begin with)?

Lots of gratuitous titties, done in an offensive way. And anachronisms such as the use of the word f**k in 1890, as in "your father f**ked everything in sight!" Ridiculous. In its favor the film has nice cinematography and some good costumes, and I think some of the actors made a valiant effort, but I still have to give it a 1 for being so condescending to its audience and for ruining the Marquez novel.

I think it is possible to make a film that has this book's richnesses, story, metaphors and style. But it would have to depart as much from ordinary Masterpiece TeeVee as this cleaves to it.

The book, if you do not know it, relies on an already deep tradition of Spanish-speaking writers that brings metaphor to life by mixing illusion and reality. This is a third generation writer in this tradition, and he counts on you knowing the previous generations so that you can appreciate the subtle craft in placing both in a "reality."

The centerpiece of course is how to fabricate a perfect love, suspend it in earnest imagination and make it real through writing. That last bit is the third generation bit, the idea that the writing of illusion makes it real. Students of narrative folding as a device to engage will recognize this trick as one designed to put the reader in the story. Everyone in the story is a "reader" of what Florentino writes. His passion in writing is immediately accessible to every other woman he meets and allows him to enter 622 of them.

That number of course is the number of menstrual cycles he waits for his love while engaged in maintaining the passion. This links to one of the two main metaphors, also partly illusory: the boats on the river. The other metaphor is love as a disease and the triangle established by the doctor dedicated to eradicate it. The structure is rather clinical, made attractive by the same passion in its writer as the writer character has. It matters that it is written in Spanish, a language that allows a connected flow of phrases and a tradition that assumes romantic fever.

I think Ruiz could have done this.

Newell has no idea what to do with this, and is left with simply trying lush shots and reading passionate text.

Here's an indication of his general ignorance: for practical commercial reasons the language must be English. But instead of having his characters speak English naturally and with passion, he has them adopt an accent which we will recognize as Hispanic speaking English as a second language. This is characterized by hypervigilance to the consonants separating words where the primary language centers of the brain are telling the speaker that they should flow with sonances. An astute listener (and if you are not, you do not deserve to have passion in reading) will know people with this, whose words flow in their mind, but become discrete pebbles in the mouth, breaking the flow of liquid life this whole story exploits.

Here's an indication of his cinematic ignorance: It matters what is shown, how and in what way, for how long and in what order. He films this as if every element that plays a role in the plot deserves equal weight. Thus, if we have a telegraph key that does something, or a boat people are on, or a ladder that slips, why we see those. All exist with equal weight. All are shown with the same reality and perspective. All have the same frame. But this manner of narrative is all about color and weight, all about the rhythms of love in reality. Some things should be sharp, magnetic, bright. Others foggy or not even touched. Some seemingly full and sensual but allowed to be discovered not so in a way that never informs the next lust.

Its all about rivers and inconsistent flows. All the sex is denoted by displayed breasts. This again is a commercial necessity, but the material is vaginal in focus. Such intense mysteries must always be. All of the mechanics of the story begin and end there, even in mention of the food.

Ted's Evaluation -- 1 of 3: You can find something better to do with this part of your life.

Quick, before the general release on Friday change the silent movie line back to "My God, this is longer than sorrow". What did she mumble instead, was it "interminable"? Why was that wonderful line changed?

I so loved the book, I cannot get an unbiased grip on the movie. My mind elaborated it favorably but with simultaneous disappointment over deviations like the "sorrow" line. "Forever" worked better in the book as the boat was ordered to return upstream. I do wish it had closed with the "ripple" video that is on the internet.

The film touched too many threads while missing the book's soul, like trying to read Fermina's heart on her tongue. Maybe it isn't possible for a movie to do justice to any masterpiece but Florentino's long-standing relationships with the widows are as important as the "body count".

Young Fermina was too old, as was America. I would have cast a 15-year-old as the young Fermina and have had her reappear as America with died hair or similar artifice. I cannot forgive the script for ignoring the perversion and her suicide. I would have rather America had been entirely written out.

Bardem was the perfect Florentino. Fernanda Montenegro and Hector Elizondo gave terrific performances. Marcela Mar is such a heart-throb I nearly forgive her for being twice her age. Cartagena was underplayed. The Shakira soundtrack was ideal.

I'll reluctantly recommend the movie but won't shake peoples' shoulders as I do when I tell them that they must read the book.