Savages (2012)

Beware of your landscaper! He might as well be a sicario coming to collect, este.  The opening scene of the movie begins to deconstruct (in lack of a better word) the portrayal of Latinos in the media by deflecting the made-up interjection ese (that one) with este (this one).  The passive, often anonymous landscaper, takes on the persona of a psychopath / mobster / Hannibal Lecter-like figure who mentally breaks his victim down before shooting his kneecap off.  Oliver Stone's cast selection is flawless, I cannot think of a better actor for the role of Lado (Benicio del Toro), perhaps Javier Bardem, but I'm not sure he could have pulled off a conspicuous East L.A. caricaturesque accent that turns out deadly.  Mr. Stone's adaptation of Don Winslow's novel of the  same title (Simon  & Schuster 2010) is a demystification of the drug trade which often times points fingers at those who are perceived as alien, foreign, deformed.  The fact is that everyone on both sides of the equation is accountable in one way or another, they are all driven by basic desires of wealth, power, and excitement, from the bottom up, from consumer to the head of the cartel skillfully portrayed by Salma Hayek.  Another common thread among the characters is the desire for revenge whether things go wrong or they feel betrayed.  This visceral reaction fuels the savage instincts of all parties involved, and those who show weakness are simply disposed of.  I must point out that the multilayered texture of the narration and the inclusion of alternative endings, characteristic of the postmodern novel, prove to be a little démodé.  Perhaps, this malleable  narration is simply a textual manifestation of  a lifetime of drug abuse by O (Blake Lively), the omniscient narrator. After all the blood coagulates in the middle of the desert the question still remains: Who is responsible for pulling out those weeds, este? 

Pacquiao vs. Destiny

Last night's split decision that awarded Bradley the welterweight championship came as a shocking surprise for those of us who stared in awe how Pac-Man was unjustly stripped of his crown.  Bradley's only merit was to withstand Pacquiao's punches for twelve rounds with no clear plan of attack albeit desperate attempts to head-butt the champ.  Despite the dubious results tallied in the scorecards and even rumors of game-fixing that would set the stage for a rematch, boxing history will always remember Pacquiao as the champ of manners who reacted with such grace in the face of adversity.  Even in the post-match interview, Pac-Man did not point fingers at anyone or implied any wrong-doing, on the contrary he wished Bradley good luck and validated him as the new champion.  Reacting with such grace and dignity when hit below the belt is perhaps Pacquiao's greatest lesson to all of us.  I also   join Pacquiao in congratulating Bradley, and, as Jack told Walcott in Hemingway's Fifty Grand, "Well, you're the champ now...I hope you get a hell of a lot of fun out of it."