
“You’re not a common criminal,” Carmen says to Elías after one of their many elliptical conversations. Trying to get antibiotics on the sly for this kid, who, with his lank long hair and facial growth, has a bit of a starving Christ vibe to him, proves to be so arduous she’s reduced to trying out a ruse at the local veterinary clinic. While Carmen has had some medical training, she’s not a doctor. He’s a starving Christ!” the priest protests. “He was stealing because he had nothing to eat.

Driving home, a passenger in the car holds a glass filled with water and two goldfish inside-life in a bubble.Īt her beach home, the neighborly Carmen is approached by her priest, Father Sánchez, who asks her to look at a wounded young man named Elías ( Nicolás Sepúlveda). The store owner draws down a metal shutter at the entrance, shutting out the events from view-willed blindness. Then there’s a disturbance outside someone is being arrested. These depict its lead character, the upper-middle-class Carmen ( Aline Küppenheim), sitting in a ramshackle house paint shop, leafing through a color tourist guide to Venice, and trying to contrive an ideal color for the interior of a summer home she’ll soon be renovating.įirst, some paint drips off a sample stick and onto her elegant black shoe-chaos infects an orderly life. On the other hand, she is a director who trots out three explicit visual metaphors in the first five minutes of the movie.

One can infer that maybe Martelli thought that to do so would be vulgar, on the nose.

Pinochet is never mentioned in this picture, and it’s not because its largely bourgeois characters are necessarily fearful of invoking him as it happens, they’re perfectly nonchalant in dinner conversations in which they call their country mediocre and sad.
