AMORES PERROS (2000)

Kickstarting Alejandro G. Iñárritu’s ‘Trilogy of Death’ is Amores perros, a triptych featuring three interwoven storylines, with each of the film’s three sections prioritising one of these narratives. It’s a complex form of storytelling that never once feels difficult to understand or resonate with, thanks to Guillermo Arriaga’s impeccable screenplay. Each of the film’s major characters is introduced early on, their day-to-day lives intersecting in trivial ways they would never have noticed, especially as all three of them are from different social strata. It takes a devastating car crash, whose effects send shockwaves through each of their lives, to momentarily unite them.

It’s one of the only forms of unity found in the film, which exposes the dark underbelly of Mexican society, as well as the wayward morals and disloyalty of these characters. There’s domestic abuse, adultery, armed robbery, dog-fighting, contract-killing, and numerous murders, with the film’s title, which roughly translates to ‘Love’s a Bitch’, referring to the heartache and trauma embedded in even the film’s most loving relationships. This is a world where, if one can find a way to get ahead in life, regardless of what it entails, it’s almost always a guarantee that they will seize the opportunity.

Yet despite all this brutality, Amores perros is more often than not a delightfully fun experience, brimming with such intensity that you’re grateful to hop aboard this tumultuous ride. From the very first scene, a car chase with quick cuts and plenty of close-ups, you’re invested in the action. It’s just one of many sequences showcasing the film’s impeccable editing (by Iñárritu, Luis Carballar, and Fernando Pérez Unda), with a number of seamless transitions dotted around the film, as well as a pitch-perfect rhythm at capturing the thrill and intensity of Amores perros’ fast-paced scenes.

There are a number of mysterious characters whose role in this plot and wider motivation is completely unknown, like El Chivo (Emilio Echevarría), an elderly homeless man living on the outskirts of society with his many dogs. But what’s most remarkable isn’t just how well these elusive characters are introduced, but that you become so wrapped up in the story you forget to ask questions about these mysterious members of the cast. There’s more than enough talent on display to trust Iñárritu and Arriaga’s ability to deliver pay-offs just as satisfying as the film’s intriguing set-ups.

With a plot that feels like a fusion of Quentin Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction (1994) and Fernando Meirelles’ City of God (2002), Amores perros practically beams with propulsive energy, whether through the gritty and up-close cinematography, garish lighting, immaculate performances, and amped-up soundtrack. Tracks like Control Machete’s “Si señor” and Nacha Pop’s “Lucha De Gigantes” are just two stand-out, knockout tracks, not least because they contrast one another so well while fitting this film’s emotional palette like a glove. Iñárritu’s film is brutal at times and tender at others, mirroring the internal contradictions and the dichotomy between good and evil in each of the film’s principal characters.

Aside from El Chivo, whose portion of the story explaining his mysterious background makes up the film’s final section, there’s the aimless and working-class youngster Octavio (Gael García Bernal), who is smitten with his brother Ramiro’s (Marco Pérez) wife Susana (Vanessa Bauche). There’s no sense of loyalty whatsoever in this family unit and the small home where these characters’ desires and frustrations brush against one another, with all three of them betraying the trust of a loved one. The intensity of young love and the passion it elicits is palpable, with a head-rush of a plot kickstarting the film’s first section. It finds allure in its griminess, though thankfully the dog-fighting scenes, which make up an important part of this portion of the narrative, are mercifully brief. That said, those who find the abuse of animals too unbearable to witness, even for just a moment, will be seriously put off by the portrayal of this section of Mexico’s underground criminal element.

But as well as never glorifying or revelling in this violence, Iñárritu is a respectful observer, underscoring the cruel brutality of these exhibitions without letting didacticism prevent him from being a pragmatic realist. Being an active or complicit part of this gruesome money-making endeavour isn’t enough to make this director or Arriaga give up on characters like Octavio. Besides, dog-fighting is yet another cruel fact of life in a film where people constantly commit violence and disloyalty towards one another, just one of the compelling parallels between inter and intraspecies dynamics in Amores perros.

The film’s second section focuses on the trauma suffered by supermodel Valeria (Goya Toledo) in the aftermath of the car crash that briefly ensnares her, Octavio, and El Chivo. Unlike the other two characters, Valeria would normally never operate in the same circles as these working-class figures, so it’s fitting that this brief moment of violence, where it’s difficult to blame anyone involved, binds them together. If Valeria were to be the victim of a home invasion or mugging at the hands of the film’s poorer characters, it would be an unfair indictment of those people working within their means to secure a better life, however wayward those attempts may be. On the other hand, anything more hopeful to link these characters’ lives would come across as a contrived attempt at injecting insincere rays of hope in this necessarily bleak experience.

It’s the perfect entry point to a vital aspect of Amores perros. While this section of the film is easily the least beloved of the three, those who find Valeria’s woes dull or lacking in meaning are missing out on Amores perros’ ability to take viewers on a journey through three major stages of life. First there’s a tale of youthful passion, where the world might not necessarily be bright, but it’s always full of possibility. People burn brightly, threatening to self-immolate in their grand visions and star-chasing, especially in a gritty, crime-ridden environment like this. The present is a narrow slat of light, the future is an endless vista of ideas beginning to blossom, and life’s current pains and pleasures are too pressing to give thought to the past.

Then there’s Valeria’s story, with the supermodel having to navigate her injuries after the car crash, and the debilitating effect they have on her career, self-image, and relationship with married man Daniel (Álvaro Guerrero). Valeria once used to phone Daniel’s home number, only to hang up when his wife or children answered. Now that he has committed to his new beau and left his wife for good, Valeria keeps getting mystery phone calls, whose caller hangs up whenever she answers. She can’t trust her partner, since she was once that other woman. Like Octavio and Susana’s relationship, Daniel’s love for Valeria was founded on betrayal.

Unable to walk, her body and her new home are prisons. A giant billboard opposite her building showcases an image of her and her once illustrious career, a cruel taunt now that she’s confined to a wheelchair. The phone calls sow seeds of doubt. And the occasional yapping from her dog Richie are notes of dread, once he disappears under the apartment’s broken floorboards and becomes lost. When the barks stop and Richie is neither seen nor heard, silence itself becomes one extended note of misery, everywhere and nowhere, pinning Valeria’s spirit down and leaving it no space to wander. Valeria and Daniel are still passionate beings, with the stresses of these stimuli triggering conversations that oscillate from joy to anger to despair within seconds, but that’s because they trust the other person to still be there the following morning. Love is a question in the film’s first section, a desperate one whose helplessness is briefly masked by the passion it engenders. Here it’s an answer for Valeria and Daniel, but an uncertain one. Valeria and Daniel have what they thought they needed, and the realisation that this isn’t enough to curtail despair is a crushing blow.

They can afford to be contentious towards one another since they have accepted that they are responsible for their actions and the consequences they bring about. They’re in it for the long haul, essentially. Daniel has made the ultimate commitment to Valeria, leaving his wife and even prioritising his lover over his children (who are absent from the narrative once this affair becomes a serious relationship). In many ways Octavio and Susana inherited their lives, since they couldn’t change the circumstances they grew up in. But not only does it seem that Valeria and Daniel have always had it easy when it comes to financial security and comfort, here Amores perros explores what it means to build your own life and accept its consequences.

The quest to find Richie, and the delusional dream that he’s still alive even after days have passed, becomes a quest to right this couple’s relationship, and to save Daniel’s soul. The apartment is transformed from a mere backdrop to this story’s beating heart. It imprisons Valeria and Daniel, but it can offer them salvation. As the pair’s frustrations mount and their grim circumstances see no improvements, Daniel feels he needs to do one thing right to prove that he’s not a failure. He’s living out the dream life that Octavio envisions for himself and Susana, and he’s struggling. But if he can just succeed in this one area as everything crumbles around him (with this idea being taken literally when he smashes apart his apartment’s floorboards to free a dog he thought nothing of days before), his soul could be saved. This sets up beautiful, tragic, and joyous scenes to close out a severely underrated section of Amores perros.

Its third and final part, focusing on El Chivo and what caused him to be this isolated, mysterious figure, charts the final step of the film’s journey through life, ending with an elderly man who must reckon with the fact that he betrayed the trust of his loved ones and left them behind. It’s the film’s most mature and contemplative storyline, with a slow pace that’s almost languid at points, forcing us to sit with this character’s day-to-day life and the notes of regret that spring up within him. It’s a mournful section with a beautiful ending, even if it can’t quite sustain its length.

A hitman who once sacrificed years of his life—and the lives of others—for a political cause, El Chivo now resorts to contract killings to sustain himself and his many dogs, strays like himself who have no place in the world. The dogs ground him, their easy and unconditional love putting up an admirable fight against the encroaching loneliness and sorrow that engulfs this character. They showcase El Chivo’s need for connection and inability to trust himself to commit to his loved ones, or trust that they would ever want to see him again. It’s a heart-warming dynamic, but also one that inhibits self-growth. Maybe purposeless is exactly what this character needs to better himself and look towards a new path in life.

It’s difficult to square El Chivo’s mournful reminiscing with his jovial attitude towards the man he has recently been hired to kill, who he cajoles and prods for information, attempting to guide the kidnap victim towards figuring out who would be so eager for him to die that they would pay to have him murdered. Granted, this plot beat perfectly puts a final stamp on the film’s continued motif of presenting a dog-eat-dog world, but it hampers one’s ability to connect with El Chivo’s sorrow. If he treats the lives of others so casually, why should we feel inclined to connect with his pain? Iñárritu does the impossible in this sense, with a beautiful final sequence that is so at odds with the showy and propulsive energy of the film’s first hour that it would have a whiplash effect if this change weren’t seamlessly integrated across its 153-minute runtime. Even though I find this final section of Amores perros to be its weakest, it still does an extraordinary job of illustrating the final curve in this film’s representation of life’s tragic, beautiful arc.

MEXICO | 2000 | 153 MINUTES | 1.85:1 | COLOUR | SPANISH

Cast & Crew

director: Alejandro González Iñárritu.
writer: Guillermo Arriaga.
starring: Gael García Bernal, Emilio Echevarría, Goya Toledo, Vanessa Bauche, Álvaro Guerrero, Marco Pérez, Jorge Salinas & Adriana Barraza.