Mother and daughter embark in this strange tour, dancing for the poorest men on the fringes of society, the lack of a future in constant dialogue with a past that is long gone, loneliness and the desire for happiness and the need for a caring embrace prevalent in every sequence. The final shot in the rain: what a miraculous encounter, how much life regained there and then. Beautiful! Evocative! Deep!
An inspired visual realization of the strange, hypnotic, seductive music serving as title/theme/soundtrack. Libidinous ennui. Never felt anything quite like it through cinema. Mesmerizing and transformative. Focused on two female (carnival-esque) stripper-performers, but more profoundly an observation of the male gaze, voyeurism, the absurdity of sexuality and desire. 83/100 - Great.
This totally missed the shot. Aside from a few cuts, there's no great cinematography here that justifies anything else on the movie. The soundtrack, OK, on point: it's one tune, for anything's sake. How would it miss that too (by the way, the song bears the "Land of My Dreams" title)? But it's just not enough. I believe it had an David Lynch-aura, as far as I can read, intentionally. But it just didn't get there...
I loved this. I am gay and I loved it even though the main object of the gaze is female this is queer cinema because it is about non normative sexuality. There is incest, taboo behaviour all mixed in with a melancholia born of nostalgia heightened by haunting music and, near the end, almost a dream like haunting cinematography.
I can't quite put my finger on what it is i liked about this film, the pretentious monologues by the mother character were a bit over the top, most scenes had a weird watermark that said "dreams" which seemed unnecessary and the ending threw me off a bit. Yet there was something that gave the film a nice and warm feeling. I enjoyed it very much!
'Make me beautiful' Gonzalez's short is about much more than the male gaze as a young woman rejoins her 'mother' for a traveling strip show that gives new meaning to no frills. The underlying melancholy, the self lies and tentative hope within crushed dreams are evident for those willing to look beyond the lingerie and nakedness.
On the one hand it satisfies a late-night young-blooded aestheticism that his brother's music also encapsulates for me (aided here instead by music from Grouper and Julia Holter), and on the other it indulges to the point of crudity a certainly banality or euro-sleaze. Pleasing yet hollow, I'll extend Gonzales another opportunity in the hope it's not all stylish posturing. 2.5