Carlos Vermouth produced in his latest film, a delicate, meticulous and labyrinthine allegory about the accident of the difference in a world where anything is, because yes, simulacrum, reflection of a reflection.
“Claudius, king of an afternoon, king dreamed of,/ he did not feel that it was a dream until that day/ on that an actor humored me your felony/ with art silent, in a platform”.
Thus describes Borges in the poem mirrors the moment of the third act of Hamlet in which the murder of the king is paraded before the usurper. It happens in a game, precisely mirrors where within the work happens another piece of theater, The mousetrap. Claudius, king of an afternoon”, and includes, by force stunned, his crime. And, hurrying up, the true nature of his being: reflection of a reflection. Only drill.
Who are you going to sing, by Carlos Vermut, is, in its way, a large pop in the universe baroque of the first paragraph. The film, which opens Friday, tells the story of a singer not so much bald as empty. An accident has left her without memory, without a voice, without the slightest idea of his identity. She is determined to go back, but do not know how, or even why. In short, it has to be invented again and learn to be who he was. And who will be. The idea is to return to be equal to itself in a game of representation repeated and the same. Your strategy of reconfiguration or invention can only be played in a patient and thorough the image of self constructed machinery pop (that is to say, all of us) that she is, at the same time, guilty and a victim. You will have to learn from his more intimate reflection on a follower that he memorized and was endorsed by every gesture of their idol, each reflecting its own reflection. As Claudio, the art quiet of his own art (and also a felony).
The mechanism you’ll discover even more complex when we see that the protagonist is no other than Najwa Nimri who plays to sing, and to be one’s own Najwa Nimri to the other side of the screen. It is not pop star, but what could have been. Or what was and what we forget. And this applies from the hand of an Eva Llorach (the fan) turned on the interpretation of the most accurate of what only is and can be, again, sham. The key is that the copy could become more real than reality itself. Is more, the real thing, as such, even exists.
Trailer of ‘Who will sing’, a film by Carlos Vermut, played by Najwa Nimri.
If you want to, Carlos Vermouth takes to its last consequences, as cerebral as meticulous, in his previous job was search and indication. In Magical Girl was trying to give with the mystery of a woman fractured. In all the senses. What lurked the look of the character of Bárbara Lennie was only mystery ever more strange and enigmatic as he advanced towards the light. Diamond Flash, in the same way, it was only a dream, the lives of five women linked by the need to flee, to escape from the reality and, more importantly, of themselves.
Now, what supports the fabric of the director’s view is the view. As on the surface perfectly polished to the most transparent of mirrors. There is something of the masks of Bergman with the same evidence that in each frame reflects the universe fractal Almodóvar. It is to portray with clarity the darkest of abysses.
he Said Deleuze, taking up the crystal-clear intuition warholian, which is already well define the other, what is different, as the negation of the same. In the digital universe that assists us, all is difference, repetition. The identity is nothing more than a mirage. Matter how dissimilar, what is changing, what is not left to catalog. What is being discussed, in short, is the true value of the representation up to announce its most obvious failure. All identities are the optical effect of an art silent on a stage.
And there, Who will sing, a film that describes, with a precision that scares the ambition of a director hell-bent on refusing in each sequence: the more clear, more uncertain. “God has created the nights that are assembled/ of dreams and the ways of the mirror/ for the man to feel that it is a reflection…”. Borges again.
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