A hypnotic, ruminative examination of class, religion, and sexuality in contemporary Mexico, Carlos Reygadas' Battle in Heaven is cinema at its most polarizing. This slow-moving yet intriguing blend of gritty neo-realism and morality play will repel many with its graphic depiction of sexuality, but it would be wrong to lump the film with such recent, sexually driven envelope-pushers like Michael Winterbottom's 9 Songs or Catherine Breillat's Anatomy of Hell. Reygadas (Japon) isn't using sex to shock or titillate—although the matter-of-fact hardcore sex scenes are indeed shocking—but to give a greater sense of his characters' inner lives, and to explore how class and religion have shaped their sense of self. The result is a challenging film, both haunting and difficult to watch, that bears the unmistakable influence of Theo Angelopoulos, Abbas Kiarostami, and Michelangelo Antonioni, filmmakers whom Reygadas cites as inspirations.
Set in Mexico City, Battle in Heaven opens on an extremely provocative note: A nude, heavy-set, middle-aged man (Marcos Hernandez) stands impassively while a beautiful, nude young woman (Anapola Mushkadiz) performs oral sex on him. As we eventually learn, he is Marcos, the working-class, longtime chauffeur of a powerful general in charge of the daily raising and lowering of the Mexican flag. She is Ana, the general's privileged daughter, who, out of sheer rebellion, moonlights as a prostitute. For years, Marcos has been at Ana's beck and call, lusting for her (the opening scene is pure wish fulfillment). Normally a silent, shut-down witness to her comings and goings, Marcos is emotionally imploding under the weight of a painful secret. He and his wife (Berta Ruiz) kidnapped a friend's baby for ransom; the baby died and they disposed of the body.
Although not overtly religious, Marcos desperately wants to redeem himself, particularly as he comes under police scrutiny. A lifetime of disappointments and festering resentments eventually drive him to violence, but in the depths of his despair, he finds a way to expiate his sins.
Battle in Heaven is not a film that readily lends itself to synopsis. In fact, narrative is of secondary concern to Reygadas, who's more interested in evoking a heightened sense of place, both culturally and emotionally, and the thorny dynamics of class. Through crystalline sound design and long uninterrupted takes, Reygadas creates a sense of the world outside the frame. He also makes pointed use of the cultural and religious iconography of Mexico, particularly as Marcos' downward trajectory reaches its conclusion. But, except for a couple of moments of obvious foreshadowing, the film never comes across as heavy-handed.
Like Steven Soderbergh's Bubble, Battle in Heaven's cast is compromised of real people, not professional actors. Hernandez truly is a driver for the Ministry of Culture; Ruiz sells jelly in metro stations, just like her character. And Mushkadiz hails from a wealthy family. What's astonishing is their naturalness on camera—and not just in the explicit sex scenes that Reygadas films in unflinching close-up. These are not gym-buffed and Botoxed Hollywood stars, shot through filters and lit attractively, but real people in all their unsightly imperfections. Understandably, some people won't be able to look past these scenes. Yet overall, these aren't the images in Battle in Heaven that most linger in the mind: What ultimately stays with you is the powerful image of Marcos, his life in free-fall, making a final plea for redemption.
One of the most-talked about films at the Cannes Film Festival, Battle in Heaven, will likely divide audiences. But whether you love or hate Reygadas' follow-up to Japon, it's highly doubtful you'll forget it.
— TIM KNIGHT
A hypnotic, ruminative examination of class, religion, and sexuality in contemporary Mexico, 