Apparently people just aren't much into "faking it" anymore, even when it comes to sex in the movies. The Mexican film, "Battle in Heaven," opens with a graphic scene of a young woman performing oral sex on the main character - and we can clearly see that this is not a simulation (it's also not much of a stimulation given the man involved). I don't know if the various hardcore scenes were actually included in the movie when it played theatrically in the United States in 2006. But they are certainly in the video, and those easily offended by such activity had best be forewarned.
For me, the sex scenes themselves are not the problem. It is the movie as a whole that I object to. For "Battle in Heaven" is a pretentious, arty contrivance that seems to be operating under the assumption - quite rightly perhaps, since the movie ended up on quite a large number of ten best lists last year - that it can earn points with the critical intelligentsia if it can just manage to bore its audience into a state of complete catatonia.
It tells the desultory and languid tale of an overweight, middle-aged chauffeur who wanders in a zombie-like daze around Mexico City wracked with guilt over the fact that he and his wife recently kidnapped a child who ended up dying under their care. During the course of the film, Marcos (Marcos Hernandez) is able to shake himself out of his stupor long enough to have sex with his wife, sex with his boss' daughter and sex with himself while watching a soccer game. The movie is all about the struggle that is being perpetually waged within the Mexican soul between sex and temptation on the one hand and piety, guilt and the obsessive need for redemption on the other. And while this theme is certainly a valid one and is actually developed to some extent in the closing scenes of the drama, the movie itself is far too inert, far too easily sidetracked, and far too underdeveloped to capture our interest.
For me, the sex scenes themselves are not the problem. It is the movie as a whole that I object to. For "Battle in Heaven" is a pretentious, arty contrivance that seems to be operating under the assumption - quite rightly perhaps, since the movie ended up on quite a large number of ten best lists last year - that it can earn points with the critical intelligentsia if it can just manage to bore its audience into a state of complete catatonia.
It tells the desultory and languid tale of an overweight, middle-aged chauffeur who wanders in a zombie-like daze around Mexico City wracked with guilt over the fact that he and his wife recently kidnapped a child who ended up dying under their care. During the course of the film, Marcos (Marcos Hernandez) is able to shake himself out of his stupor long enough to have sex with his wife, sex with his boss' daughter and sex with himself while watching a soccer game. The movie is all about the struggle that is being perpetually waged within the Mexican soul between sex and temptation on the one hand and piety, guilt and the obsessive need for redemption on the other. And while this theme is certainly a valid one and is actually developed to some extent in the closing scenes of the drama, the movie itself is far too inert, far too easily sidetracked, and far too underdeveloped to capture our interest.
