Official Competition
I’ve always been fascinated by the creative process — how artists arrive at their ideas and the steps then taken in putting these concepts to paper, canvas, film, ones, zeroes, or any number of countless mediums. Unfortunately, this rather rosy and naïve fascination is choked half to death by the disheartening realization that art is often not created as the unadulterated expression of human emotion or societal observation that I wish it was, but instead is derived from privilege, ego, commerce, and snobbery.
It’s this eternal artistic conundrum that forms the basis for Gastón Duprat and Mariano Cohn’s fantastic film Official Competition — a sharp-witted Spanish comedy about three overpowering personalities vying for control of a nearly absurd film, all in the name of each one’s self-centered notions of how art should be approached and consumed.
The set-up is minimal but important. A wealthy industrialist named Suárez (José Luis Gómez) longs for a project that will define his legacy. After dismissing such philanthropic endeavors as bridge construction, he finally lands on the decision to finance a movie — a great and powerful movie at that! However, being the rich dullard that he is, Suárez hand-waves all artistic nuance (namely the novel the film is to be based on, the director, and the lead actors) in favor of some vague notion of whatever and whoever “the best” is currently perceived to be by his rich dullard peers. What could possibly go wrong?
What follows is nearly two hours of simple, understated, and brilliantly delivered comedy that cuts right to the bone of pompous artistry in the movie business. The director hired for the vanity project in question (the new indie “it” filmmaker, played to perfection by cinema treasure Penélope Cruz) feels above the whole project but is glad to take the money, while the lead actors (the marvelous pairing of Antonio Banderas and Oscar Martínez) seem mostly to have signed on in order to one-up each other.
As rehearsals get underway, the actors and director begin to feel each other out with increasingly barbed jabs and the kind of duplicity usually reserved for espionage stories. Their continued passive-aggressive and low-key bickering might fuel their performances, but the tension they create fills the beautifully open architecture of their rehearsal space to nearly overflowing proportions.
In one particular scene involving awards, a metal grinder, and a lot of plastic wrap, the absurdity of this tension comes to such an infuriating head that it’s a wonder the film doesn’t take a dramatically dark or violent turn in its aftermath. That it doesn’t is a relief, but the scene’s actions — as preposterous as they are — almost horrifically demonstrate the fragility of an artist’s vanity and the lengths they’re willing to go (in the name of art and truth!) to protect themselves from obscurity.
This farcical power struggle not only gives Official Competition a delightfully acerbic bite, but creates an enormously open world for its fantastic cast to explore as they poke holes in each other’s well-crafted egos. You’re not likely to see a better film about movies and movie-makers all year, or a better-suited cast for this often hilarious, off-kilter industry reprimand.
Grade: A-minus. Rated R. Starts July 1 at the Fine Arts Theatre
(Photo: Manolo Pavon/IFC Films)
