Dogfighting drama hurts humans too

The controversial Amores Perros is one of the film festival's hot picks - unless you're a dog-lover.

Two dogs meet in mid-air in a burst of saliva before dropping to the floor in a tangle of limbs, teeth and torn flesh.

The concrete chamber, perhaps part of a disused factory, is heaving with men in grimy vests, licking their lips with excitement.

Suddenly, it's all over. The victor stands quivering triumphantly next to his owner. The other animal lies motionless on the ground before being dragged off by its hind legs, leaving a trail of blood and sweat. You can almost smell it.

Animal-lovers should steer clear of Amores Perros (rough translation: "life's a bitch"), the debut feature from Mexican director Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu. Brief though they are, the fight scenes will etch themselves on your mind for months.

Yet, oddly enough, it's their devotion to dogs that binds the film's protagonists. Some prefer them to humans; others use them as a means of escape from their grubby lives.

Amores Perros is made up of three intricately woven stories, all set in Mexico City, which converge several times over in a brutal car crash.

The first takes place in a rundown apartment block. We meet teenager Octavio as he tries to seduce his older brother's wife. Looking to raise some cash so they can run away, he enters his dog in some local fights where it proves to be the biggest bruiser of them all.

Part two has Daniel, a magazine editor, abandoning his wife and kids to move in with his mistress, Valeria, and her lapdog.

The final story centres on El Chivo (the Goat), a dog-loving terrorist-turned-hitman who is suddenly bitten by his conscience.

This is a dark, dark film. And, following last year's premiere at Cannes, there was much speculation as to whether the dogfighting scenes would get past censors in Britain.

It was a close call. The RSPCA was asked to establish whether or not there had been any cruelty during filming, and the dog-handlers were required to produce written statements about their working methods.

Inarritu is exasperated.

"No one bothered to ask how I had staged a car crash with humans," he seethes.

"In Britain you can see movies about people being cruel to each other. You can watch fathers sleeping with their daughters and husbands beating their wives, but if there's an animal suffering people can't handle it."

In fact the dogs wore painted plastic muzzles for the fight scenes. Where they appear to be brawling, they are actually playing. Sound effects were added later.

It's the people who come off worst in Amores Perros.

Daniel's mistress, Valeria, is punished most severely, first losing her leg in the car crash and then losing her beloved dog.

She is vain. Her living-room window looks out on to a billboard bearing a 6m-high picture of her in a perfume ad. But surely her sins are minor next to those committed by Octavio and El Chivo?

"You meet a lot of people like her working in film," says Inarritu. "Their lives are so empty. They don't think for themselves. I find those kind of people just as horrifying as the thugs and the hustlers on the streets."

All of Inarritu's characters are victims of their own folly, yet each of them is in some way redeemed.

"I don't believe that truly bad people exist," he says. "People can have the best of intentions but end up losing their way ... or their limbs."

In all the furore surrounding Amores Perros over the past year, the film's artistic merits have never been called into question.

It has earned both Oscar and Golden Globe nominations, and critics at Cannes applauded the film's complex structure and unflinchingly raw view of life.

The interlocking narrative has already prompted comparisons with Tarantino's Pulp Fiction, but Inarritu is disapproving.

"Sure, the structure is similar but that's where it ends," he insists.

"Tarantino wants to make us laugh with violence and I think that is a very superficial way to look at life. People like me who live in Mexico City know that violence causes pain. It doesn't make me laugh."

The film reflects a love-hate relationship with his home. The camera lingers over the alleyways, abandoned buildings and cracked billboards. The sense of claustrophobia is constant.

"Twenty-one million people live in Mexico City, all crammed in on top of each other," laughs Inarritu.

"But I love it, it's real life. Everyone should go there once. I just hope I haven't put them off with my film."

- INDEPENDENT

* Amores Perros screens at the Auckland International Film Festival on Friday July 6 and Thursday July 12.