Moths on the ceiling

Biutiful

Crit

Yes, it as advertised: beautiful but skewed. Alejandro González Iñárritu this time contents himself with a single narrative, sad when not unbearably heartbreaking: the dying days of a man (Javier Bardem) with good intentions but a limited palette, who tries to do right by his two small children, his bipolar, alcoholic, promiscuous estranged wife (Maricel Álvarez--according to IMDb, in only her second film, and her first since 1997--in a performance almost as affecting as the one for which Bardem earned an Oscar® nomination), and the Chinese and Senegalese workers he helps to come illegally to Barcelona to make a subsistence living, which is to say much better than they can do at home.

But cancer is eating Uxbal, body and soul, and the best he can do is try to get his affairs--especially the care of his children--in order. As everyone has pointed out, Bardem's face is a dirge here, with even the occasional part of a smile painful--perhaps even more painful than the rest.

Damn, but there have been some hard-to-watch films of late. I guess tonight I'll dismiss all the sadness by watching a sports-and-entertainment extravaganza!