Duck Season

This small Mexican film from 2004, which was the darling of many festivals and got a big push from Alfonso Cuaron,  is an odd and interesting work, but isn't quite as profound as it thinks it is. Written and directed by Fernando Eimbcke, and shot in black and white, it takes a banal setting--an apartment on a lazy Sunday, and makes it into something epic.

Flama (Daniel Miranda) and Moko (Diego Catano) are two 14-year-olds who have been left alone for the day. They are excited, as they have everything they need--video games, manga comics, Coke, and money to order pizza. But little by little their day turns into something different. First a pretty next-door neighbor girl stops by to use their oven. Then the power goes off. Then their pizza arrives, but in a stand-off over whether the driver was on time or not, he stays and demands his money.

That's basically it. Aside from a few scenes of the driver (named Ulises, but I didn't get a Homeric vibe from his character) on his motorbike, the film is entirely set in the apartment. After the mother leaves, it's just these four characters. The girl, Rita (Danny Perea) is trying to bake a cake, and ends up flirting with Catano, but he's got a crush on Miranda. The driver reveals that he really wanted to be a veterinarian, and would like to get into the parakeet-breeding business. And a painting of ducks holds a special control over them all, even more so after they ingest pot-laced brownies.

The film is edited in blackout style, and some of it is very droll. But I was never fully engaged--at times it sinks under the weight of its own preciousness. The theme of ducks and their migration habits never really resonated with me, and the use of pot-laced pastries is getting to be a cliche to allow characters to expose their inner behavior (it used to be alcohol).

Still, Duck Season is an ambitious film for a low budget, and has a lot to admire.