[Review] Fade to Black, No Regrets: A review of ‘Arrebato’
About an hour into Iván Zulueta’s 1979 psychedelic horror film Arrebato, its narrator Pedro (Will More) utters this line: “I found treasure in everything. And anything would bring me to ecstasy.” The story follows the meandering career of a horror director, José Sirgado (Eusebio Poncela). José and Pedro’s lives intertwine at the cusp of major creative breakthroughs and stagnations. Their affair is told mainly in a non-linear fashion. The latter, an amateur filmmaker, reads José for filth, saying he will hate his craft. Pedro’s artistic concerns don’t lend themselves to any conventional system. José becomes enraptured by his work and the performance leading up to its exhibition. Pedro lulls the viewer with childhood ephemera before showing them moments that are equally fleeting. As much as Arrebato is about the pleasures of capturing life in all its minute details, Zulueta quickly exposes the dangers of sealing one’s self in their own work.
Zulueta approaches his material spiritually, with reverence for cinema as an art form that elevates its audience. There are shades of Bergman and Cocteau in how the director tethers his subjects to each other, and in how their artistry weaves itself into the fabric of their being. For José, the filmmaking process is cumbersome. We meet him at the editing stage of his latest project, where even his collaborator can sense dispassion. When Pedro re-enters his life, through a package full of vocal recordings and 8mm films, the spark of creativity overwhelms him. Yet, José is less inspired to create than he is to lose himself in Pedro’s films. Pedro communicates to him beyond a physical realm. To us, this effect is achieved by narration that acts as a double entendre. Pedro’s messages are intended as private reflections for José, but work their way into the strife that unfolds outside of the recordings. Here, Zulueta collapses the diegetic and non-diegetic. Ambient score (composed by Negativo) drifts in and out of José’s immediate reality. It’s often jarring, though not anything less than intoxicating.
Will More as Pedro
The farther one allows themselves to be coaxed into the narrative, the more dependent we become on the mystery Zulueta unfolds. For the audience and director, as with José and Pedro, the obsession is mutual. His work is an act of love that permeates every which way. If one is not careful, however, certain uncomfortable truths go unnoticed. Arrebato observes the lives of two specific individuals who are volatile in complementary ways. Different vices and perversions are showcased as bare as possible in the narrative. Without making moral judgements on his characters, Zulueta pulls the viewer out of a rapturous state to reveal the harm of a vice going unchecked. Both José and Pedro suffer withdrawal from a litany of highs. Their domestic lives stuck in loops of boredom and abuse. Where the terror of the film enters is through the crushing feeling of living in one’s personal hell. To José and Pedro, there is no escape but to one another. Successfully, Zulueta’s craft pulls them closer together despite the ambiguity of whether Pedro is alive.
Genre lends itself remarkably well to the experimentation Zulueta engages in. He regularly breaks the protective barrier between his material and the viewer, going so far as to fast-forward an awkward family gathering to get to José and Pedro’s first encounter. Footage that has been shot by Pedro works itself into José’s headspace and is mediated on screen. Of course, there are aesthetic choices in cinematography, in music, and framing that are suggestive of the director’s horror and noir influences. Pedro is a kind of ghoulish figure whose relationship with his camera (and cinema as a thing) heavily implies a supernatural force. José is typical of the haggard anti-hero, desperately trying to overcome his own surroundings while delving deeper into a mystery. Zulueta’s own Frank Stein (a sped-up version of James Whale’s Frankenstein) comes to mind as a brief exploration of monstrosity and the breakdown of social mores. However, it is easier to think of a film like this as a series of interlocking tones. Personally, no matter how unhinged and grimy the film gets in its street scenes or its pent up sexual rage, its sweetness is not lost. Nor is its heartbreak.
Eusebio Poncela as José
Arrebato touches you where you do not expect to be touched. Quite regularly. Uncomfortability is a part of this film’s MO and Zulueta wields that tool masterfully. It’s not so dense that parts of its narrative intentions cannot be taken at face value. For example, the entire finale can feel like one exhausting bit of stream-of-consciousness filmmaking. Writing about the damn thing gets to a point where it’s better describing it in sounds and images. But a film like this is rare because it allows itself to be a canvas for emotional engagement. Zulueta is a thoughtful filmmaker whose every word and directorial decision is fluid as it is calculated. Sometimes, it is easier to believe that some form of alchemy is actually happening. Entering film worlds, playing with notions of reality, and losing oneself to obsession are timeless concepts in the world of cinema, after all. It’s easy to see why a director like Pedro Almodóvar–a contemporary for whom Zulueta also designed posters–was taken by its yearning and its menace in equal measure.
Zulueta has the one quality in a filmmaker I most admire: he creates without shame. Speaking to the quote at the beginning of this review, the director shows us all of Pedro’s treasures and how excruciatingly satisfied he feels in ecstasy. Briefly, as José regains his passion for cinema, there is a tender burst of hope that brings the two of them together. It’s horrific and irresponsible and beautiful to see. In this wild cacophony of a film, conclusions are anything but certain. In fact, it closes on its most existentially frightening moments, leaving the story open-ended. Arrebato seduces its viewer into giving a part of themselves for its duration. I look forward to eating out of Zulueta’s palm as frequently as possible. And I’m grateful that Altered Innocence gave this title the love it deserves.
Arrebato hits VOD in North America on December 21st and will be available on DVD and Blu-ray January 25th.
