Mysterious Skin (2004)

Directed by Gregg Araki

It all starts and ends with a little league’s pedophile coach and two kids: Neil and Brian, who unbeknownst to their parents are the victims of a sexual predator. But what is the authentic aftermath of this encounter between the man and the 8-year-old children?The repercussions of sexual abuse will affect greatly the lives of Neil and Brian, but in so many different ways that one could almost wonder if they shared the same experience. As a matter of fact, being sexually abused is such a traumatic event for Brian that he blocks it out of his mind unable to cope with the real, and he then proceeds to fill in the memory gaps with a fantasy of alien abduction. Recurring to such self-defense mechanisms is quite a normal psychological strategy, but it also mingles well with a recurring theme in Araki’s cinematography.

Neil, on the other hand, fills in the gashing void with an idealized image of the pedophile. After all, during an entire summer the two of them spend many nights together. Neil actually functions as an accomplice, helping the coach to lure in unsuspecting boys, thus creating a perverse bond between them. Perhaps one of the greatest accomplishes of the novel is to invert the roles, creating a pedophile that seems to be nicer and more caring than the boys’ parents, while at the same time embedding at least one of the victims with an attitude that one would find difficult to sympathize with. Araki’s film, of course, thrives because of that: the complexity between the characters relationships. This is not, after all, a lesson of morality. Here the coach leaves the town, with an untarnished reputation, and leaves behind Neil, a very obsessed boy who admits later that “it's a huge part of me. No one ever made me feel that way before or since [...] I was his one true love”.

Perversion seems to be the one predominant constant throughout Neil’s life, but as Lacan would define it, a perverse individual is the one who assumes the position of the object-instrument of the "will-to-enjoy" (volonté-de-jouissance), which is not his own will but that of the big Other. In this case, Neil accepts to serve as a garish tool of pleasure for the coach, and years later, as a teenage hustler, he has no quandaries when it is his turn to be the instrument of joy of the other (namely his clients). Emotionally detached from everyone, only a girl, a friend from childhood, remains as his one and true humane anchor. His mother, after all, has always been a carefree woman, constantly hooking up with men, and paying no attention to his son; that’s why when Neil is about to depart to New York, she looks at him and utters “my baby, all grown up”, not as a typical motherly affirmation but rather a discovery: time flew by, and she wasn’t there at all.

Brian’s dreams are a reminder that another boy was with him the night of the alien abduction, consequently the insecure boy starts the search for Neil, and learns of his whereabouts just after Neil has left for the big city. It is then that Neil’s friend, Eric, a very flamboyant gay kid, befriends him. Brian is quite a timid and introversive teenager, perhaps as a result of having a very dominant mother and an absent father (even before he abandons the family, he was only there to state how disappointed he was at his son). Eric describes him as "weirdly asexual" (even without knowing how Brian had violently rejected a UFO obsessed woman that intended to caress his penis); indeed, Brian is unable to reclaim sexuality for himself, and after having always lived in a world of his own he finds in Eric’s friendship everything he needs to break out of his shelf.

As a male prostitute, Neil finds the horror of the real in New York, and he will soon realize how dangerous his line of business can get. Back in town, Eric is preparing himself to let go of the one reality that has sustained and nurtured his psyche, but can he embrace the real if Neil tells him exactly what happened that fatidic night?  

Araki brilliantly depicts this honest, heart-wrenching and unruly story, taking advantage of the exceptional acting qualities of Joseph Gordon-Levitt (Neil), a daring and talented actor that has worked in many interesting independent films, such as Brick, The Lookout or Latter Days (a gay themed movie). This actor finds in Brady Corbet (Brian) the ideal partner; Corbet creates a subtle but fascinating character, completely different from his roles in Funny Games US or Thirteen, proving not only that he is a great actor but that he also knows how to choose the best directors to work with.

And that's why Mysterious Skin makes it into my top 100 films. I highly recommend it.

And by the way, I'm glad to see that every month my blog gets more visits. Cheers!
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Fiel a los principios de Coherencia, mi rechazo por la candidata a la presidencia prevaleció. Ni siquiera haber perdido casi dos mil dólares en la bolsa de valores de Lima logró disuadirme. Aunque, por supuesto, como decía Fernando De Szyszlo en relación al otro candidato, a ese tampoco le creo. 

Así que decidí hacer lo único sensato, o sea contribuir con las arcas fiscales. Con la multa evito la votación, y me ahorro esa sensación horrible de tener que elegir a un mal menor (y honestamente, nunca he tenido la línea Sartriana de Mario Vargas Llosa que le permite hacer justamente eso, elegir una de las dos opciones, a pesar de todo).

Las pérdidas también me han hecho ver que algunos ajustes son necesarios, al menos por ahora. Así, por ejemplo, he cancelado mis tarjetas de crédito, todas menos una. Así que adiós a tarjetas con límites de 5000 soles (como la del BBVA que siempre me sacó de apuros) y cosas por el estilo. Para bien o para mal, este domingo ha sido elegido el próximo mandatario del país.

Fernando de la Jara “Poesía visual” (Galería Lucía de la Puente)

It’s a peculiar experience having no one else around. Although if there is nobody around… you are not necessarily alone. Solitude is, in fact, an incomplete and unique way of living in this world. Ancient myths have tried to explain this situation. Human beings are devoured by love because of the immense necessity of finding a mythic original unit. You try to find someone else as if you were searching for a lost part of your own body; and you are in pain if you do not find that part. Loneliness has a very tight bond with communication; we are forced to communicate, even when we don’t want or can’t communicate with other people. However, we have the conviction of someone else’s existence and we are aware of how much we need that person. Deep inside, in our intimate conviction of someone else’s existence and in our painful experience of their absence, therein lies the sentiment of solitude. To become alone it is mandatory wanting to be two, at least, or having been two and preserving the respective nostalgia.

There can be three different categories of loneliness. The first one is the result of the death of a very dear friend or relative. The second category consists in organizing the other’s absence, we exist because they’re looking at us, but we have no control over their eyes or their presence. Our existence depends on the other person, jeopardizing our own independence. Then fear forces us to run away from the other, to forget them, in an attempt of regaining control of the situation. We disappear to make the other one disappear. We rush into loneliness because we are so afraid of being alone. We surrender to solitude, and there is always the risk of getting used to it. The third category is idealization; the other exists because of us, and we see in them what we wish to see, we project intuitions, ideas and illusions; we create an imaginary being. But what happens when the other shatters our fantasies? We walk away and we find out that we were always alone, since the very beginning. Reality doesn’t meet our expectations and therefore we become lonely beings. A totally happy solitude is impossible; nonetheless, in a mature way loneliness can be something positive. It is a learning path that allows us to accept our frustration and also to get rid of obsessive socializing with others. We have to find the balance, we have to feel comfortable when we are lonely if we want to feel comfortable with someone else.

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Uno de los grandes aciertos de la galería Lucía de la Puente es apostar siempre por la innovación. Mientras otras galerías tienen tendencias más o menos marcadas, Lucía de la Puente se esfuerza por sorprendernos en cada muestra. Este miércoles, por ejemplo, se inauguró la muestra de Fernando de la Jara “Poesía visual”, compuesta de una multitud de cuadros con una evidente carga erótica, que sin caer en excesos ni facilismos, transmite sutilmente todo un universo libidinal contenido, reprimido y a punto de estallar. La mayoría de las pinturas se centran en un antes y en un después, nunca en el acto en sí mismo, y quizá en ello, en la negación de la imagen obvia, reside su mayor fuerza. Paralelamente también se inauguraba “Mutación y desborde” de Kenji Nakama, un artista que se apropia del papel, papel periódico, papel de las guías telefónicas, etc., para crear un original recorrido escultórico (especialmente destacables son los caracoles de papel).

En esta ocasión me encontré con Ramiro Llona y Meritxell Thorndike, resulta divertido que hayamos coincidido tanto el miércoles como el jueves durante la semana del arte, y justamente comentamos eso. También conversé con el artista Dare Dovidjenko, que me preguntó cómo iba el asunto de mis cómics en THE GATHERING (pronto haré algunos anuncios aquí mismo). Me senté en una de las mesas del café de la galería con Lorenzo Osores (que me sugirió que visitase su muestra inaugurada la semana pasada), mientras descansaba de todos los vasos de Johnnie Walker Black Label que había tomado durante la noche. Aunque quizá la mayor sorpresa del evento fue encontrarme con uno de mis amigos de la facultad de literatura de la Católica, Gabriel Meseth de Bona, a quien no veía desde hacía mucho tiempo.

Esta semana también aproveché para visitar la muestra en homenaje al escritor Oswaldo Reynoso “El tesoro de la juventud” en el Centro Cultural de España. Los artistas que participan son Christian Bendayán (pintura), Diego Lama (video), Germán Ballesteros (instalación), Haroldo Higa (instalación), Jaime Higa (pintura), Miguel Aguirre (pintura), Piero Quijano (dibujo), Sheila Alvarado (ilustración), Eduardo Tokeshi (pintura), el colectivo Supay (fotografía); y la artista visual española Carmela García y Rep (caricaturista argentino).

A continuación incluyo algunos de los trabajos que me llamaron la atención, la magnífica ilustración a blanco y negro es de Sheila Alvarado. Y la última imagen responde a la pregunta que algunos me han hecho… ¿por qué no hago algo en estilo manga? Simplemente porque no se me da muy bien.