A Sunday afternoon in Mexico City. Fourteen-year-old best friends Flamo (Daniel Miranda) and Moko (Diego Cataño) think they've got it made: ice cold Coca Cola, potato chips, and video games where they aim to blow off each others heads. Happiness. Then the power goes out. The teenage girl from down the hall (Danny Perea) insists she be let in. Her oven is broken and she has a cake to bake. The pizza delivery guy (Enrique Arreolr) refuses to leave when the boys won't pay him for arriving eleven seconds late. The stage is set, not quite for action--the delightful, odd ball group never leaves the apartment--but for a little sexual experimentation, serious baking, casual drug use, and the kind of unexpected, meaningful conversation that results in revelation.
Produced by Alfonso Cuaron (Y Tu Mama Tambien), Duck Season has won numerous awards worldwide. Fernando Eimcke's first feature has an inviting, universal quality; except for the occasional black-outs prevalent only in developing nations, the story of adolescent angst and boredom could take place anywhere. Eimcke pays close attention to detail; a long shot, for instance, is devoted to the careful division of a liter bottle of soda. Moko pours the soda in intervals, taking breaks to allow for bubbly foam to settle, until the tall glasses are full to the rim. The boys almost gleam with pleasure in what is clearly a ritual among friends; the moment is funny and true. The non-professional teen stars have natural comic timing and are also movingly real, lacking the polished sheen of American teen stars.
Duck Season is an arty film that manages never to feel pretentious. Shot in black and white, the medium itself allows for surprises. At one point, we learn that Flamo looks nothing like his parents--he appeared to have brown hair until we find out that he's red-headed. The camera often approaches the cast from unusual angles. This helps prevent audience claustraphobia and works to keep a slow-moving narrative fresh and interesting.
