What a powerful movie! I found this film much more effective than Im Juli in communicating gender relations. Through Marirrosi and Milady, it communicates a celebration of feminism and sexual liberation, while through Patricia's story it reaffirms traditional patriarchal values. Milady and Juli are very similar characters: free spirits who love the road. In fact, Flores seemed to be a halted road movie. Instead of moving forward in their lives, they are stuck; everyone else moves around them. When Patricia's family drives off, a long two shot stays on Patricia and Milady, who remain stuck in this foreign world. I also found the way time moved to be of particular significance - episodic and cyclic. Indeed, the tensions of the relationships seem to be emphasized by the changing seasons. The bus arrives in summer, then the couples settle down in fall into an uneasy routine. In winter, all three relationships enter a period of frigid isolation and rupture. In spring, Patricia celebrates the baptism (and symbolic reconfirmation of patriarchal order) of her daughter. And then summer arrives and the bus comes again. Flowers grow and die. So do relationships. It's the circle of life.
I found the gaze of Janay to be very haunting. She was always there in the corner, just passively observing. Then she would run away. I thought very hard about why she needed to be in the film. But she too is a flower - soaking up the sun of another world. She too is part of the never ending cycle of life. She will enter this world, hopelessly fractured by differences - ethnicity, age, and gender. Children are not born with a recognition of these differences. They are forced upon them by society.
Although I found the representation of women fascinatingly complex, I found the representation of men disappointingly flat. Their sexual prowess defined them. They simply loved their corresponding women and didn't seem to add any value or insight to the relationship. Sex seemed the ultimate goal, and it never went any deeper than that (pun intended).
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