Battle in Heaven

Carlos Reygadas’ film starts as it means to go on – with a cartoonishly rotund, scruffy older gentleman receiving oral pleasure from a dreadlocked nymph, tear rolling elegantly down her cheek as she goes. While it’s immediately tempting to lump Battle In Heaven in with the current Mexican wave of vibrant erotica (see also Y Tu Mama Tambien and most films starring Gael Garcia Bernal), the film, like the director’s scorching debut Japon, is far heavier duty arthouse baroque. Combining the unvacant stare of Antonioni, the long sweeping shots and trippy mysticism of Tarkovsky, the jarring noisiness of Fritz Lang, and the weird visual tics of Herzog, Battle In Heaven is almost as accomplished as it is thoroughly discombobulating.
Playing like a high-brow version of the Stations of the Cross, this twisted redemption tale follows Marcus (Hernandez), a chauffeur and unlikely sexual plaything for Ana (Mushkadiz), the wild and privileged young woman he drives. After he and his wife kidnap an infant who dies while captive, Marcus, consumed by guilt, confesses all to Ana, ultimately leading to a truly shocking act of violence.
That scene, and indeed, most of Battle In Heaven, is far from easy viewing. The intoxicating, feverish images communicate an unhinged consciousness almost too well and depending on the cheeriness of your disposition, the Mexico City setting is either Calvary or the innermost circle of hell.
Though perhaps too raw, too cerebral for most sensibilities, it’s an ideal date movie for damned cineastes.