MIDAQ ALLEY's fatal flaw is that is that it totally lacks a sense of place. Because we get no feel for the (presumably) confining, suffocating, sometimes brutal environment they live in we, get no sense of the characters' desperation and thus little understanding of their motivations. Seriously, in the first segment I found myself literally asking if I was supposed to find this believable as the father obliviously parades his new love interest to anyone who cares to look. MILD SPOILER: We also get no real idea of why Alma would make the decision to turn to a life of prostitution - we have to assume her feelings of deprivation and lack of hope. This lack of intrinsic believability has to be laid heavily on the shoulders of director Pons who lights each scene as if it were literally on a stage, shows no eye for composition, obviously believes broad gestures are the height of dramatic art, and loves to end scenes with wailing, faces contorted in agony, and poignant swells of the soundtrack. However, the screenplay is obviously thin on its own: many secondary characters are nothing more than cardboard cutouts (the Artist, the drug dealer, even Rutilio). Hell, none of the male characters are remotely lifelike (this also attributable to consistently poor performances by the male cast members). The tale also relies too heavily on colorful/quirky incident and characterization, and melodramatic (as well as predictable) plot developments. The only thing the film gets right is that it manages to capture the female characters' yearning for some specialness to enter their humdrum lives. This is particularly true for Alma's mother and Susanita; the only two characters that seem have any dramatic weight and consistent psychology to them. In short this an attempt to capture a poignant slice of Mexican life that never finds its way to the street, and so remains trapped in the studio. More Peyton Place than Callego de los Milagros. 5 out of 10
Review of Midaq Alley
