RAISING VICTOR VARGAS (Peter Sollett, 2003) R
Reviewed: April 9th, 2003
Peter Sollett's accomplished
writing/directing debut features another dose of Tim Orr's mesmerizing cinematography
(the last dose was the recent and gorgeous All the Real Girls; Orr's
past credits also include George Washington), which douses a claustrophobic,
sweaty Lower East Side in piercing pools of sunlight, capturing a NYC summer in
a slightly stylized, enticing, brick oven warmth. The performances -- from almost
exclusively newcomers -- are flawless: spicy, funny, well-delineated and suggestive
of rich past histories without anything (like the obviously corrupted family trees)
ever made too explicit. Particularly Victor Rasuk, who plays the titular protagonist
Victor, finds a pristine balance between brash charisma, unknowing immaturity
and a blossoming youth. I dunno how old these completely (sexually) inexperienced
kids are supposed to be -- I'd guess the characters' ages range between thirteen
and sixteen -- but I bought their verdancy hook, line and sinker. It's a vibrant,
casual, kinda-coming-of-age film, never pat and nearly every scene furnished with
a handheld immediacy, nearly every encounter playing jazzy, fresh and unscripted
(I assume much of Raising Victor Vargas was improvised). The only contrivances
come when Sollett tries to manufacture extra drama: that is, making the grandmother
who cares for Victor and his siblings an ultra-repressive wackjob who still baths
one of her grand kids herself, suddenly tries to give Victor over to State care
when she (erroneously) suspects he taught his younger brother how to masturbate
and comes within throwing distance of kicking him out of the apartment for good
when she discovers (via elaborate detective work involving comparing lipstick
marks on drinking glasses) that he ::gasp:: had a girl over. I also felt Sollett
struggling with his focus on occasion: the underdeveloped scenes involving the
sister play cheap (her love not-interest has a serious lisp, vomits uncontrollably
and he's a crybaby); the scenes involving Judy's friend and her new boyfriend
are left dangling, extremely promising as they stand alone, but ultimately somewhat
superfluous in the context of the whole film. Still, it's a sensitive portrait
of youth, devoid of gimmicks, swooshing over you like a nice steam bath; Sollett's
covering oft-trodden ground but the generosity and faint ambiguity he brings to
the table cannot be dismissed.
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