The maverick and seminal Mexican film-maker Arturo Ripstein,
son of Mexico’s prominent film producer, was best known for his subversively
complex imagery and for exploring daring, timeless themes. The Harvard Film Archive in introducing the cinema of Arturo Ripstein felicitates him as the
‘crucial link between Mexico’s studio era and the new generation of auteurs
such as Carlos Reygadas, Guillermo del Toro, etc’. The best works of Mr.
Ripstein possesses the power to strongly condemn unchecked masculinity,
intolerance, and habitual prejudice. The Castle of Purity (‘El Castillo de la
pureza’, 1973) was the director’s first major work (his third feature film),
where he had perfectly realized his trademark atmosphere of confinement and the
sense of deep melancholia. It’s often referred that Mr. Ripstein was mentored
by the renowned Spanish auteur Luis Bunuel (Bunuel stayed in Mexico during his
exile from Franco’s fascist rule). Although both the film-makers uncannily
blended brutality and unyielding darkness with humanity and compassion, their
artistic sensibilities were different. While ‘The Castle of Purity’ has the
unsettling, understated surrealism of ‘Exterminating Angel’, Ripstein’s
rigorous visual schema and brooding atmosphere has built upon its own profound
legacy.
Arturo Ripstein’s 1975 movie ‘The Realm of Fortune’ marked the
starting of his long-standing collaboration with the remarkably talented
screenwriter Paz Alicia Garciadiego (Bleak Street – 2015 – was their latest
work). But, the script for ‘The Castle of Purity’ was co-written by renowned
Spanish novelist and poet Jose Emilio Pacheco (he worked with Ripstein in two
other films). The title of the movie was taken from Mexican poet
and Nobel laureate Octavio Paz's essay on Marchel Duchamp. The Castle of Purity served as the prototype
for Greek film-maker Yorgos Lanthimos’ acclaimed drama Dogtooth (2009). It’s
about an authoritarian patriarch, who insists to preserve his family’s purity
by not allowing them outside their ramshackle mansion. Claudio Brook (The
Exterminating Angel, Simon of the Desert) plays the father character named
Gabriel Lima. The movie opens 18 years after Gabriel’s decision to isolate his
wife and children from the world’s filthy morals. Gabriel’s wife Beatriz (Rita Macedo) haven’t ventured out and often stays in her room, putting on make-up to
satisfy the whims of her husband, returning after a day’s work.
The three children (a boy and two girls) were ironically
named as Porvenir (future), Utopia, and Voluntad (free will). They have never
set a foot outside their well-spaced family domain. The three of them help
their father in the manufacture of rat poison, which Gabriel sells to the
local shops throughout the city. Apart from the routine work, the children
receive dry education classes from Gabriel, who forces them to memorize the
words of great philosophers without allowing them to experience the context of those words.
Gradually the rigid rules and unflagging oppression of Gabriel is resisted by
teenagers Porvenir and Utopia. Gabriel appeals for moral righteousness and
rational behavior, while keeping his family in a constant state of terror.
Beatriz remains stoic and submissive to her husband’s uncontrollable masculine
authority. Although the family members slowly learn to hate their captor
Gabriel’s notions, they also simultaneously sympathize with him, waiting to
bask in the graceful side of patriarchy. When Gabriel’s carefully constructed
world begins to unravel he resorts to violence to maintain his dominance,
regardless of the changes in individual psyche.
Spoilers Ahead....
On first glance, The Castle of Purity looks like a very
simple allegory about the different repressing institutions humankind created
for themselves, the foremost being the family. Gabriel Lima’s strict belief system,
his refusal to expose his family to world’s moral contamination, the name of
his children, the family’s profession of exterminating rats, and finally
Gabriel’s recurring comparisons of rat with humans seems a bit unsubtle.
Nevertheless, the film’s profound layers could be discovered in director
Ripstein’s formal restraint and impeccable visual schemes. The director
brilliantly sets up the sense of confinement in the opening sequence (the film
opens and ends with the shot of rusted tin cans), where the camera tracks
around the open terrace of the crumbling mansion. The atmosphere, that’s
totally contrary to what’s suggested by the title, is full of rat cages,
peeling wallpapers, and walls soaked by relentless beating of the rain. In the
next sequence of shots as we get acquainted with the family members and their
little quirks, Ripstein ironically prods over Gabriel Lima’s twisted sense of
moral and spiritual purity.
Ripstein gradually introduces Gabriel’s methods of
purification. When Voluntad misbehaves, she is confined to prison cell in the
basement (a cage within a cage) to give her some time for contemplating on the
wrong deed. Then there’s strict following of vegetarianism and then, of course
exercise and education schedules to keep the body and mind fit. The whole
schedule is devoid of emotions and even the learning is based on thoughts that
are totally alienated to them. When Utopia expresses her desire to see the
ocean, she is immediately hushed up by her brother Porvenir. The notion of
repressing simple human emotions in order to uphold ‘purity’ leads to
unrestrained corruption. The fallacy of Gabriel’s universe lies in his
inability to understand that his idealism has turned to a bitter form of
control; and in his belief that human condition could be fully freed from moral
depravity or the so-called ‘sin’.
In the construction of this enclosed universe, Ripstein
palpably creates a sense of entrapment for the viewers (the entrapment is what
contaminates each of the family members’ psyches, including Gabriel). All the
scenes set inside the house lacks free movement. From the steady pour of rain
in the open terrace to the children’s everyday chores, Ripstein makes
everything move in a rigid fashion. For example, take the scene when the
Beatriz and her three children play in the wet courtyard. The made-up game is
full of artificial, awkward movements, and the defeated players are asked to
strike a rigid pose, called as ‘statue of death’ and ‘statue of happiness’
(there’s some resemblance between the movements of the children in Dogtooth and
Castle of Purity, although both the director’s visual schemes are different) .
Ripstein uses rain as the only element of purity. The repeated shot of Utopia
and Voluntad enjoying the rain by standing in the spacious patio brings some
relief from the stifling environment. Perhaps, the greatest strength of
Ripstein’s imagery is his ability to juxtapose certain elements to create
profound meaning. Gabriel spies on his sleeping children and wife through the
little hole outside their respective rooms. These shots resemble that of the
shots of rat cages. The most powerful juxtaposition happens when innocence and indifference
are blended together. In one scene, Gabriel asks his youngest daughter Voluntad
to test their product on a caged rat. The girl coolly feeds the cat, pulls over
a black cloth to cover the cage, waits for few minutes, and finally moves the
cloth to confirm the rat’s death. While the child’s posture exudes innocence,
her detached action brings upon a unsettling feeling.
Arturo Ripstein is fully empathetic to women’s plight, who
is victimized in myriad ways. Gabriel placing the blame entirely on Utopia for acting
upon sexual desire reflects the unchallenged belief of patriarchal institutions
(religious, political or educational). In what could be seen as smart
development, Ripstein doesn’t use the rebellious attitude of eldest son
Porevnir as the means to freedom. Rather than going for a cliched ending with a
battle of male egos, Ripstein chooses over a much nuanced climax. The true
rebellion comes from the women (Utopia throws out a letter and Beatriz wrestles
off Gabriel’s weapon). But, despite Gabriel’s failed showdown with the cops,
the ending shot questions whether the family would ever free themselves from
confined atmosphere. The family head is taken away and the family walks over
the street to unlock the door and enter. May be the father’s twisted sense of
purity had failed to subjugate the family members, but can they really break
away from daily habits that are carried out within a cage. Is it possible for
them to live in the outside world or will the crumbling mansion now become a
self-imposed cage? Ripstein leaves us with a profound, open question about confinement,
familial or other.
Trailer
The Castle of Purity (108 minutes) is a thought-provoking as
well as a distressing portrayal of a volatile patriarch and the effect he
brings upon the family placed under his care. Mexican auteur Arturo Ripstein’s
singular vision makes this movie a must-watch for art-house movie lovers.
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