(2004) Directed by Álex de la Iglesia; Written by Jorge
Guerricaechevarría and Álex de la Iglesia; Starring: Guillermo Toledo, Mónica
Cervera, Enrique Villén and Luis Varela;
Available on DVD
Rating: ****
“Characters facing the abyss is something that is attractive
to us.” – Álex de la Iglesia
The Perfect Crime,
or its original Spanish title El Crimen
Ferpecto (nope, that’s not a typo) illustrates how attaining your goals in
life won’t necessarily translate to contentment. Director/co-writer Álex de la Iglesia’s dark
comedy is a study of one man’s pursuit of happiness, and how his uncompromising
ideals lead him to ruin.
In the opening scene we’re introduced to Rafael (Guillermo
Toledo), a self-described “elegant” man, who feels entitled to the finer things
in life. If he wants something, he just
takes it, and never stops to worry about the consequences. He loves the perfect little superficial kingdom
he’s constructed as a department store salesman, gifted with the ability to
sell anything to absolutely anyone. The
world is his oyster, or so he thinks, as he struts around the store like a
peacock, indulging in meaningless sexual encounters with the female employees
and equating himself to a predator (intercut with scenes of a lion from a
wildlife documentary). His entire life’s
ambition is to become a floor manager, and it’s a foregone conclusion, at least
in his mind, that he’ll be next in line.
That is, until his rival Don Antonio (Luis Varela) gets the job instead.
Push literally turns to shove with the new floor manager in
the dressing room, resulting in Don Antonio’s death. Rafael is horrified to discover that there
was a witness to his scuffle, but he finds help from an unlikely source. The witness is Lourdes (Mónica Cervera*), a meek
saleswoman that he ignored over the past ten years, but now commands his
undivided attention. She assists Rafael
with the disposal of the body, becoming his accomplice in the process, and
demanding nothing more or less than his undying fealty. From
one perspective, things are looking up.
It appears that he’s given the police the shake, and he’s been appointed
the new floor manager in Don Antonio’s extended absence, but there’s a price to
be paid.
* In the DVD commentary, de
la Iglesia noted how he was attracted to Cervera, due to her expressive eyes,
which reminded him of Peter Lorre. Aside from her unconventional looks, he
found in Cervera someone who could play the opposite of Rafael.
With Lourdes, looks are deceiving. De la Iglesia compared Rafael and Lourdes’ relationship
to that of Sylvester and Tweety, as the seemingly weak and defenseless prey
becomes predator. Seemingly overnight,
the tables are turned on him. Suddenly,
he’s not the master of his own destiny, but her willing pawn. She has him wrapped around her little finger,
transforming the store in her own image, starting with the staff. Much to Rafael’s chagrin, she replaces the
supermodel-lookalike saleswomen with more ordinary appearing individuals. As he continues his spiral descent, she sucks
him into her dysfunctional family’s life, hooking him into marriage. Before long he’s become a part of the very
lifestyle that he abhors.
One of the feats that actor Guillermo Toledo, de la Iglesia
and co-writer Jorge Guerricaechevarría pull off so effectively is taking a
thoroughly despicable character, such as the narcissistic, selfish Rafael, and
making him sympathetic. We feel for
Rafael, not only because his world has been turned completely upside down by
the film’s conclusion, but by our sense of how pathetic his life has become. We understand how completely his world was
built around a shallow lie. From a
Hitchock-ian (Is that a proper adjective?) perspective, the MacGuffin is the
floor manager position. All too late, he
realizes that the thing he prizes above everything else, his freedom, is now
beyond his grasp.
In addition to the aforementioned Hitchcock, de la Iglesia
cited Buñuel and Kubrick as influences for The
Perfect Crime, but that’s selling his unique vision a little short. While you can spot the works of these
directors in his film, they’re merely used as spice to flavor his wicked
soup. Rafael’s world is completely
deconstructed by The Perfect Crime’s
conclusion. In the delightfully absurd
payoff scene, which I won’t spoil by describing here, Rafael and the rest of us
are left to ponder what’s beautiful, what’s fashionable, and what’s merely
sane. It’s a fitting punishment for
Rafael and his limited vision of success.
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