Mancha
Blanca (2001)
I would believe this boring, pretentious and simplistic
documentary was aimed at 10 year olds, that's the level
of cultural information on display here, if it weren't
for the artsy-fartsy cinematic posturings director S.R.
Bindler employs in presenting his so-called film.
This pseudo documentary will bore the shit out of
you. Literally. You will actually feel pieces of your
own intestinal system's waste slowly sliding through
your bowels and out your anal opening as you body spasmodically
contracts, reacting to the immense, torturous, sheer
boredom your brain is experiencing if you are forced
to watch this film. This is like cinematic Ex-Lax.
The film purports to be a documentary on "white spot"
(hence the title), a disease that is affecting shrimp
and killing 80-90% of the sea urchins. This, of course,
affects many communities and countries that rely on
shrimping for economic reasons. One such country is
Peru (hence the title in Spanish), which is the supposed
focus here.
But Bindler is far more interested in presenting convoluted
art crap then shedding any light on his supposed subject.
This is a subject that should be meticulously explained
and discussed. It is not. There is a repugnant slow-mo
shot of a cow with Mad Cow's Disease. There are a lot
of shots of Inca Cola to suggest the irony of the encroaching
commercialization and Westernization of Peru, which
may or may not have anything to do with the encroachment
of the disease, although Bindler wants you to believe
that is what to blame here. Hence the shot of a bovine
with Mad Cow's disease and other supposed ironic images
in the film. There are shots of shrimp with white spot.
There are shots of native people playing harmonica.
There are shots of little boys with shrimping nets.
It's all filmed like some sort of boring travelogue
for cable TV directed by a first year art student played
on a Tv with fucked up settings for tint and color and
brightness. It's boring as fuck. Literally. You will
find yourself attempting to fornicate with your own
underwear so that your brain may have any sort of stimuli
if you are forced to watch this film.
It's obvious from the film's start that we are in
for a dull, mind-nulling ride. Bindler focuses on a
half-naked little Peruvian boy touching a shrimping
net for at least 2 or 3 minutes early in the film. Now,
it seems like 10 or 15 minutes but that would be an
exaggeration. This is in slo-mo, with "ambient" style
music and the boy does nothing. Nothing. He doesn't
play with the net. He doesn't use the net. He doesn't
show us the net. He barely even fondles the net. After
we are fast asleep from watching this mindlessly dumb
shot, Bindler fades the image and manipulates it to
distort it. Oh. He has a fucking point. Get it? It's
a simplistic way of life, a native culture, on the decline.
Thanks for wasting 3 minutes of my fucking life on an
idea that could be expressed in one fucking sentence.
Jesus fuck.
Worse yet are the interviews with people who have
little or nothing to do with whatever it is the subject
here is supposed to be. There is a lot of talk of Shaman
and hallucinations and stuff like that but there is
absolutely nothing new or revelatory in this discussion.
Worse yet, the film is in English and Spanish with subtitles
popping up whenever the filmmaker feels like it is necessary.
Sometimes he subtitles the Spanish in English, sometimes
he doesn't. Sometimes he subtitles the English in English,
sometimes he doesn't. Sometime, in a fit of pretentious
cinematic bullshit he will put up subtitles and not
bring up the dialogue in the mix. Wow. Revolutionary.
Not.
But the worst crap of all here, other than the feces
in your own pants (see above), is the music which drones
on and on and on and on and on and on and on like a
CD skipping, only not as interesting or musical. What
could make this worse? How about if they showed the
musicians making this mind- numbingly dull as pisswater
music. That would bore the fuck out of us a little more
wouldn't it? I'm not saying this music is just bad,
I'm saying that given the choice between having to listen
to this music and drink your own pisswater, you'd drink
your own pisswater. And be grateful for something interesting
having happened. You would drink you own pisswater and
ask for more. What's worse is having to endure watching
the "musicians" play the music. It goes on and on and
on, like an endless loop made by some little whiny pup
at the Cinemaker Co-op. I am not kidding. Words cannot
describe the Soma that is this film.
"Mancha Blanca" is only 68 minutes long. Good luck
remaining awake. Good luck overcoming incontinence.
Good luck with your career S.R. Bindler. If you are
allowed near a film camera again it will mean the death
of cinema.
This Film Reviewed
from the 2001 Austin Film festival!
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Report
Card
Content:
F
Completeness: F
Cinematography\Lighting: F
Special Effects\Make Up: F
Music: FFFFFFF
Final
Grade: F
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