Some films can get by on visual splendor, and others on character. Some, of course, manage through plot or pure nerve. Calle Malaga is none of these. It is a lovely looking film but never takes real advantage of being set in Tangiers, either visually or, really, by going deep into the multicultural aspects of its main character’s neighborhood. This matters, because that home is the entire point of the film. When Maria’s distant daughter goes through a divorce, she gives her mother an ultimatum: move with me to Madrid or go to a senior living facility because I am selling the apartment dad left me in order to finance a new life.
The film, also unfortunately, does little to interrogate this fractured relationship, keeping the details sketchy and presenting the daughter as an almost cartoonish villain. There is no nuance, here, and what is hinted at comes entirely from Carmen Maura’s performance as the displaced elderly mother. At first moving in to the facility, the mother quickly changes her decision, which may indeed always have been a feint. She moves back to her old place, and begins squatting there, avoiding the occasional tour for potential new tenants.
Nobody in the neighborhood seems concerned or quite aware any of this is happening, and when she grows broke, she devises a plan to make money hosting parties in her flat, which is presented as humorous and daring. Instead, it comes off awkward. Indeed, each beat of the story seems to think it is more important than it is, and never fully earns what it wants.
The problem lies in relationships that are paper thin and which exist for advancing that thin plot or to make a point, which is nearly always one of two things. The woman is justified in everything she does and the world can go to hell because they are all against her, with her rotten daughter leading the way. It is disappointing that an otherwise wonderful lead performance is wasted with such a perplexingly simplistic script.
For one thing, the film also does not have a climax. Instead, it simply ends. The ending it provides is not a conclusion that gives viewers much to consider. It is as though the writer and director ran out of money and decided two quick shots of mundane moments would suffice to finish out the film. If this were a Lynch film, or one from Mike Leigh, there would be the sense of something deeper going on. Hidden messages, allegories and metaphors. Yet here, there is nothing.
If not for Maura’s utter conviction in playing her part, the film would fall apart. Any depth given to the characters or situations, any gravity, comes from what she brings. You can believe that she is this woman, who simply wants to stay in the same place her whole life. Something the script never interrogates, and which the rest of the cast of characters mostly just shrug their shoulders at. It is, finally, a gigantic missed opportunity.
Yet, it is not all bad. Simply massively disappointing in the big picture sense of things. There are many fine small moments and Maria’s relationship with an antiques dealer brings some much needed heat to the proceedings. There is fine photography during one travel sequence, and the markets feel like markets. Again, though, these could be people or places that exist anywhere, and while universality is a fine sentiment, when the point of the story is someone desperate to remain in place, that place needs to be made to feel very unique. Other than her being treated as the grand old lady of the neighborhood, there is nothing. A film that is not bad but cannot be recommended to rush and see it, though there are pleasures to be had.
Calle Malaga is now playing in limited theaters.
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