Lion’s Den (Pablo Trapero, 2008)
Argentinean auteur Pablo Trapero’s Lion’s
Den is a respectful and serious-minded women in prison film that exceeds the
value inherent in its unique premise. Set within a maternity ward in a maximum
security prison, the setting ensures that the movie manages more sociological
interest than most of its ilk. I’m not sure that we’ve ever before seen this
backdrop as the focus of a film, and that’s surprising, as it lends itself to
some intrinsic drama and political commentary. Watching this, it’s obvious that
there’s surely a great exploitation film to be made in this setting, but it
almost immediately becomes clear that
Lion’s Den is not that film. Trapero’s interests instead lie in examining
the microcosmic society that exists in this cell block and turning his
attractive young protagonist’s stay there into a physical and moral endurance
test.
Indeed, for a prison film, there’s surprisingly little overt excitement here.
Time and again, Trapero eschews the predictable pleasures of that genre, always
opting for introspection and diffusion over dramatic force. The key scene might
well be the prison riot, in which the camera seems less interested in the
mindlessly raging prisoners than in heroine’s meeting with the warden, who
argues for emotional control in the face of chaos. In that sense, this feels
strongly like a companion piece to Trapero’s rookie police drama
El Bonarense, with the gender roles
and the side of the law that it’s operating on flipped. Both films demonstrate
constant control from the director, resulting in a unique, low-key outlook, even
in the face of the story’s most extreme situations.
Similarly, Lion’s Den locates a
unique form of melodrama, since its heroine’s struggles don’t really seem
centered in an unjust legal system, a corrupt prison, or the man who accuses her
of her crime. Instead, most of the tension here arises out of a crisis of
conscience. There’s much hand-wringing over whether or not the lead character
will acknowledge or remember the events that led to her incarceration. It’s a
decidedly interior approach to a seemingly sensationalistic story, bolstered by
a solid, but guarded, central performance from Martina Gusman that gives the
audience little to embrace. Trapero discourages the audience from easy
identification, turning attention to the bigger picture, stressing observation
over condemnation. Throughout, his direction is impressive, with constantly
assured camera movements, and terrific use of his extras in his long shots, but
few histrionics. The result is a film that confounds expectations, keeping its
audience at an arm’s length, even as it courts interest through its gripping
plotting.
64
Jeremy Heilman
07/14/2008
