Injustice is all around. There isn’t a single person who hasn’t been completely pushed over the edge by a routine, everyday unfairness at one point or the other. If our collective laments and releases of anger on various social media pages –towards even the most common trivialities, such as poor public transport etiquette or dismissal of general common courtesies– are any sign at all, we are all living and breathing explosives that conceal a rigid tension within. In his wickedly funny Wild Tales –one of this Sunday’s Foreign Language Oscar hopefuls– Argentinean writer/director Damián Szifrón salutes each and every one of us ticking bombs, with a wink and an unsettling smile, through a slick collection of six vignettes that allow various antiheroes in Argentinean society do the dirty work to avenge on behalf of humanity. Rejoice!
Ranging from silly and absurd to ludicrous and borderline outrageous, Szifrón’s short tales are conceived with cues of class conflicts and gender clashes, with the often-mistreated finally having their day against the privileged –from arrogant significant others, poisonous parents, to politicians and vastly corrupt organisms– who have walked all over their lives. The film is a lot more fun without knowing the often-gruesome details of its individual vignettes–it’s no surprise that Wild Tales unfortunately doesn’t quite sustain its novelty charm at second viewing–making a fair recap somewhat of a challenge.
The initial chapter (Pasternak), the longest stretch of the film, establishes the tales’ theme of revenge with a story of a man retaliating against those who’ve made a failed person out of him in all aspects of his life. The second story (The Rats) has an ex-convict female chef face off with a politician who ruined her co-worker’s life. The third tale –perhaps the most instantly relatable sketch (Road To Hell)- is the hilarious telling of an eventually doomed road-rage story between a well-off driver and another of lesser means whom he insults, while the fourth one (Bombita) –the strongest segment- is a constantly agitated middle class man’s Larry David-esque uphill battle against a corrupt urban system that insists on towing his car frequently, completely unjustified. The fifth tale (The Deal) –about a groundskeeper agreeing to take the blame of a hit-and-run for a handsome fee– pulls the sharpest focus on class confrontations while delivering its twist with a wretched, cleverly delayed punchline, while the final one (Til Death Do Us Part) –probably on its way to becoming Wild Tales’ most talked-about and even loved vignette– zeroes in on two newlyweds, with their marital bliss cut way too short in the midst of an increasingly blood-spattered wedding party.
There is something disturbing, yet profoundly liberating, about watching others cut loose and break completely free off all social norms while disregarding legal implications of their outrageous actions – all wrapped in a satirical context. Just remember, you’re allowed to laugh and celebrate the on-screen rebellion (and nod your endorsement to neighboring audience members who will uncomfortably seek fellow watchers’ approval to join in on the free-for-all rage vomit). To Szifrón’s credit, Wild Tales doesn’t lose sight of the fine line drawn between beguiling artifice and serious drama it confidently walks on. Even when certain sections of its stories suggest he might be mildly self-amused and congratulatory, Wild Tales manages to remain as a simply alluring crowd-pleaser throughout, thanks to an attitude that takes its gimmick just seriously enough. Amid its over-the-top theatrics, consistently polished and high-concept production design, and playful tone that could be called the cinematic version of an evil-laugh, Wild Tales aims to entertain and send its audience home with an artificial relief that will rub off on even the most cynical of human souls. Why resist it?
