Bombon - El Perro

Synopsis: Patagonian, Juan Villegas (Juan Villegas, is an unemployed 50 year old, lives with his daughter and tries to scratch a living selling hand-made knives. Things are not looking good until a woman he helps gives him a Dogo Argentino, a much-prized hunting dog.

The strength of Argentinian director, Carlos Sorin's, simple story is in the casting of Juan Villegas in the central role. Somewhat reminiscent of Harpo Marx, he is the embodiment of a sweet-natured soul whose physiognomy is such that he appears to be permanently bemused. And almost by some involuntary mimetic process one cannot help but smile back (although there will be some who become not a little disconcerted by this loss of autonomy). Remarkably, Sorin, who does not use professional actors in his films and writes his script around his players, found Villegas working as parking lot attendant near his production office in Buenos Aires.

Bombón - El Perro is a comedy but one that does not make fun of the world of dog-breeding. Rather it exudes loves for its subject, which is in essence the common man and, perhaps secondarily, the sparse landscape of Patagonia. Sorin's approach to film-making is equally spare, one more familiar to the observational style of the documentary than the usual fictional dramatisation. He does know, however, how to create dramatic interest. This is done principally through the character of a trainer (Walter Donado) who takes Juan under his wing. Or does he? Sorin keeps his character deliciously ambiguous. And then there is Bombón. The almost fable-like story of a lonely old man and his dog could be too sweet in the wrong hands. The edge is that this dog is, potentially, a vicious killer. Imagine a pit bull terrier crossed with a great dane and you'd have good idea of what this animal suggests. Shaggy dog it is not. Which is why it is valued by its devotees but here, the combination of dog and owner make for a particularly odd couple.

If you're not in the mood perhaps you'll find the film's (and Juan's) naiveté a tad too ingenuous, but for the most part, the vast empty spaces of Patagonia, the charming guitar music of Nicolás Sorin, the director's son, the simple story and languid pacing all make for delightful and heartening film.

 

 

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