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/ Biographies Fernando Birri |
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Jorge Tobías Colombo
En rigor, si alguna formación académica tuvo entonces fue la que le dio Europa con su viaje a Roma en 1950, donde estudió en el Centro Sperimentale de Cinematografia (1950-1952), casi coincidiendo allí con Gabriel García Márquez (1954) y con Tomás Gutiérrez Alea y Julio García Espinosa (ambos de 1951 a 1953). La experiencia romana fue tan importante en los cincuentas como más tarde, cuando estableció en Roma su domicilio. En ese primer viaje filmó un documental, "Selinunte", y fue fugaz actor en una película italiana (Gli sbandatti, 1955, de Francesco Masselli), asistió a Carlo Lizzani en Ai margini della metropoli (1953), a Vittorio de Sica en Il tetto (1954), y luego, con Emilio Indio Fernández, reescribió Las abandonadas en 1955. En realidad eran todas éstas actividades múltiples de un aprendiz.
Entonces regresó en 1956 a Santa Fe de la Vera Cruz. Tenía 30 años y el deseo de insertarse productivamente en el medio. Fundó el Instituto de Cinematografía de la Universidad del Litoral, y ese título, que podría sonar presuntuoso dada la escasísima infraestructura y la ambición desmedida e ilógica de hacer cine en provincias -y no en Buenos Aires-, se acompañó sin embargo de un proyecto intermedio al cine que dio magníficos resultados. Me refiero al fotodocumental, una verdadera exposición secuencial de fotografías, sobre un tema, que hoy podrían considerarse storyboards de films en su etapa preparatoria. Y eso era en efecto el fotodocumental, porque pronto dio paso a una película notable: Tire dié (primera encuesta de tema social) y a otros 18 documentales (de diferentes directores) realizados en el plazo de cinco años, así como al primer largometraje de Birri, Los inundados. Los jóvenes santafecinos consiguieron atraer la atención de críticos y público incluso sobre esos materiales preparatorios que aún no se justificaban en obras fílmicas. Entre otros comentarios, el de Tomás Eloy Martínez resultó significativo porque encontró allí un proyecto nacionalista: "El país, o al menos un rostro del país, respira en las imágenes de estos futuros films. Haber descubierto ese rostro, hablar con las mismas palabras que le hemos oído [a Birri] alguna vez en lo vivo, no sólo es importante: es insólito". Más insólito era, ese mismo 1958, que recibieran el siguiente comentario escrito del célebre documentalista y teórico británico John Grierson, que había visto la exposición en Montevideo (durante el III Festival del SODRE): "Es un espléndido ejemplo de método de enseñanza y el primero que he visto que contribuya tan simplemente y tan bien al aprendizaje de cómo hacer un film. Ustedes van a la raíz de esta materia captando las imágenes esenciales y forzándolas por medio de los epígrafes a entregar su contenido. Es ésta una contribución notablemente simple pero a la vez profunda". Tanto Tire dié como Los
inundados fueron preparados como fotodocumentales. Cuando en
1961 Birri reunió diversos textos (ensayos, informes anuales,
programas de la escuela de cine) en un libro titulado La escuela
documental de Santa Fe, señaló su preexistencia a los proyectos
de cine. De alguna manera había que hacer un Instituto a través del
cual realizar el cine que ansiaban. Los inundados (1961) es la historia tragicómica de algunas familias de la norteña provincia de Santa Fe, Argentina, damnificados por las inundaciones que cíclicamente se abaten sobre la región, pero se concentra ante todo en lo sucedido a la familia Gaitán: Dolorcito, su mujer Optima, varios hijos, y entre ellos la adolescente Pilar. Desde la primera toma -de diversos objetos caseros que flotan-, la película muestra su decisión de incluir humor en la tragedia. Sin perder de vista la humanidad de sus personajes, evita con cuidado convertirlos en prototipos de explotados sociales, pero tampoco pierde de vista numerosas oportunidades de satirizar a los políticos, al gobierno, a la burguesía pretendidamente "solidaria", a la burocracia, y hasta a sus propios personajes humildes. Dolorcito despierta literalmente inundado: baja los pies de la cama y se encuentra con que el agua invade la habitación. Su mujer le reprocha, "Yo te lo decía...", en el mejor estilo rioplatense de recriminación gratuita. A partir de ese momento, se suceden las situaciones tragicómicas, y lo que más se le agradece a la película es su constante sentido del humor, a través del cual logra criticar dicharacheramente los vicios sociales y políticos referidos. El gobierno -en plena época electoral- promete construir el "tajamar" ya otras veces prometido; los candidatos explotan la desgracia de los "inundados" en beneficio de su partido y elaboran discursos demagógicos. Hay diálogos absurdos, como el del abogado Canuga cuando intenta evitar la desocupación judicial de los vagones de tren parados y convertidos por emergencia en casa-habitación. Es aún más cómica la secuencia en que Dolorcito ya no se despierta inundado sino en movimiento: han prendido el vagón-casa a una locomotora y él y su familia viajan con rumbo desconocido. Luego, la burocracia enreda su madeja: se abre un expediente para investigar el caso del vagón (ya célebre en todo el país, gracias a los periódicos), y mientras tanto la familia Gaitán no puede regresar a Boca del Tigre, de donde partiera. Cuando al fin llega el expediente, ellos han empezado a sentar raíces en el lugar en que han sido arbitrariamente parados, y tienen nuevas amistades, y Dolorcito ha ganado un juego de bochas. Otra secuencia antológica ocurre cuando el jefe de estación, harto de los visitantes, da salida al tren y Dolorcito debe correr y perseguirlo, mientras hijos, esposa y perros lo animan en su carrera. De regreso al pago después de la aventura, el paterfamilias reflexiona en voz alta, con nostalgia: "Aquello sí que era vida. Ahora vaya a saber pa' cuándo será la otra inundación". |
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Lo que distingue aquí a Birri de sus coetáneos, a diferencia de otras películas sociales de la época, es el calor humano con que se diseñan los personajes, así como su voluntad de exhibir el carácter aprovechado y pícaro de los mismos. Aunque todos viven al borde de la excentricidad, no hay caricaturas, y el humor no se produce sólo a costa suya, sino ante todo por las situaciones vividas. Así, cuando la familia Gaitán comienza a recorrer la República Argentina porque algún burócrata ordenó sobre el papel el enganche de su vagón, la situación es cómica pero la burla se orienta hacia la burocracia. El otro blanco de la crítica mordaz es la política, y hay abundantes situaciones que dejan en claro la hipocresía de los candidatos, así como el sabio escepticismo de los pobres. La producción de este film fue totalmente marginal respecto a la industria cinematográfica argentina; se basaba en un cuento cuyo autor había muerto muchos años antes, y dependió ante todo de la iniciativa, el talento y la energía de Fernando Birri y sus colaboradores, así como del apoyo sui generis de la Universidad Nacional del Litoral. * Fragmento de un
ensayo inédito sobre el cine de Fernando Birri y el de Leonardo
Favio. [Los autores de los documentales de la Escuela de Cine de Santa Fe, mencionadoa arriba en el texto, fueron: Elena de Azcuénaga, Edgardo Pallero, Juan F. Oliva, César Caprio, Hugo Abad, Enrique Urteaga, José Ayala, Hercilia Marino, Nelly Borroni, Edgar van Isseldyk y Fernando Birri].
Nationality: Argentinian. Born: In Santa Fe, 13 March 1925. Education: Universidad Nacional del Litoral, Santa Fe, Argentina, 1942–47, and at Centro Sperimentale de Cinematografia, Rome, 1950–52. Career: Assistant to Vittorio De Sica on Il tetto, 1954; returned to Argentina to found Instituto de Cinematografia, later La Escuela Documental de Santa Fe, 1956; left Argentina for political reasons, 1963; moved to Italy, 1964; attended 1st International Festival of the New Latin American Cinema, Havana, 1979; taught at Universidad Nacional Autonoma de Mexico, 1980, and at Film School of Universidad de Los Andes, Merida, Venezuela, 1980–83. Director of International School of Cinema and TV of San Antonio de Los Banos, 1983—. Awards: Grand Prize, SODRE Festival, Montevideo, for Tire Die, 1960; Golden Lion, Venice Festival, for Los Inundados, 1962; honored at Festivals in Benalmadena, Spain, 1979, and Pesaro, Italy, 1981. Films as Director:
Other Films:
PublicationsBy BIRRI: book—La Escuela Documental de Santa Fe, Santa Fe, Argentina, 1964. By BIRRI: articles—"Cine y subdesarrollo," in Cine Cubano (Havana), May/July 1967. "Revolución en la revolución del nuevo cine latinoamericano," in Cine Cubano (Havana), August/December 1968. "Fernando Birri y las raices del huevo cine latinoamericano," an interview with Francisco Lombardi, in Hablemos de Cine (Lima), March 1984. "For a Nationalist, Realist, Critical, and Popular Cinema," in Screen (London), May-August 1985. "Ein Letzter Dominostein," an interview with M. Vosz, in Film und Fernsehen (Berlin), March 1991. "Öden ich rede weiter von Utopien!" an interview with Wolfgang Martin Hamdorf, in Film Und Fernsehen (Berlin), vol. 12, 1994. On BIRRI: books—Mahieu, Jose Agustin, Breve historia del cine argentino, Buenos Aires, 1966. Micciche, Lino, editor, Fernando Birri e la Escuela Documental de Santa Fe, Pesaro, Italy, 1981. Burton, Julianne, The New Latin American Cinema: An Annotated Bibliography of Sources in English, Spanish, and Portuguese, New York, 1983. Burton, Julianne, editor, Cinema and Social Change in Latin America: Conversations with Filmmakers, Austin, Texas, 1986. King, John, and Nissa Torrents, The Garden of Forking Paths: Argentine Cinema, London, 1986 On BIRRI: articles—Pussi, Dolly, "Breve historia del documental en la Argentina," in Cine Cubano (Havana), October 1973. Burton, Julianne, "The Camera as Gun: Two Decades of Film Culture and Resistance in Latin America," in Latin American Perspectives, Austin, Texas, 1978. "Fernando Birri Section" of Cine Cubano (Havana), no. 100, 1981. Mahieu, A., "Revision critica del cine argentino," in Cine Cubano (Havana), no. 107, 1984. Martinez Carril, M., "Fernando Birri, un mito, una obra," in Cinemateca Revista (Montevideo), February 1986. Araya, G.H., "Auskunfte uber Fernando Birri," in Beiträge zur Film und Fernsehwissenschaft, vol. 28, 1987. Brang, H., "Welt der Wunder und der Trauer," in Film und Fernsehen (Berlin), March 1989. Schulze, B., "Wonderland," in Medium (Frankfurt), vol. 21, no. 3, 1991. Feinstein, Howard, "Entangling
Shadows: One Hundred Years of Cinema in Latin America and the
Caribbean (Enredando Sombras)," in Variety (New York), 11
May 1998. Born in the provincial capital of Santa Fe, Birri was a poet and puppeteer before turning to the cinema in search of a broad popular audience. Unable to break into the tightly controlled national film industry, Birri travelled to Italy to study at Rome's Centro Sperimentale de Cinematografia during the early 1950s, when the neo-realist movement was still at its height. Profoundly influenced by the ideology, aesthetics, and methodology of this first anti-industrial, anti-Hollywood model for a national cinema, Birri returned to Argentina in 1956 hoping to found a national film school. Rejecting the closed commercialism of the Buenos Aires-based film industry, one of the three largest in Latin America at the time, Birri returned to Santa Fe. Birri recalls: "Fresh from Europe, what I had in mind was a film school modeled on the Centro Sperimentale, a fictional film school which would train actors, directors, cinematographers, set designers, etc. But when I confronted the actual conditions in Argentina and in Santa Fe, I realized that my plan was premature. What was needed was something else: a school which would not only provide apprenticeship in filmmaking, but also in sociology, and even in Argentine history, geography and politics, because the most essential quest is the quest for national identity, in order to recover and rediscover what had been alienated, distorted and destroyed by centuries of cultural penetration. This search for a national identity is what led me to pose the problem in strictly documentary terms, because I believe that the first step for any national cinema is to document its own reality." La Escuela Documental de Santa Fe grew out of the Instituto de Cinematografia, which was in turn an outgrowth of a 4-day seminar on filmmaking led by Birri. Birri's goal was to lay the foundations for a regional film industry that would be "national, realist, and popular": national by addressing the most pressing problems of national life; realist (documentary) in approach in contrast to the highly artificial style and milieux of the "official" film industry; popular by focusing on and appealling to the less privileged classes. In keeping with his determination to integrate theory and practice, Birri emphasized process over product, viewing each film project as the opportunity for practical apprenticeship on the part of the largest possible number of students. He was the first of the Latin American filmmakers to posit technical imperfection as a positive attribute, preferring un sentido imperfecto a una perfeccion sin sentido (an imperfect/sincere meaning to a meaningless perfection). Birri's best-known films are the 33-minute documentary Tire die (Toss Me a Dime) and Los inundados (Flooded Out), a picaresque feature in the neorealist style about the adventures of a squatter family displaced by seasonal floods. Both played to huge and enthusiastic audiences at their local premieres but could not achieve broad national exhibition even after winning important prizes in international festivals. An inhospitable political climate compelled Birri to leave Argentina in 1963. Subsequent months in São Paulo catalyzed an important documentary movement there, but Birri himself returned to Italy and relative obscurity until the late 1970s. His presence at the First International Festival of the New Latin American Cinema in Havana in 1979 signaled renewed activity and recognition. Since then, Birri has taught at Mexico's national university and at the University of Los Andes in Venezuela. The Benalmadena and Pesaro Festivals (Spain, 1979, and Italy, 1981) organized special programs honoring his work.
Fernando Birri’s Tire dié (Throw Me a Dime, 1958) begins with an aerial shot of the provincial city of Santa Fe, Argentina. The association of voice-of-God narration with perspective-of-God images only reveals the full extent of its parodic intent as the narration progresses and conventional descriptive data (such as geographical location, founding dates, population) give way to less conventional statistics (the number of streetlamps and hairdressers, loaves of bread consumed monthly, cows slaughtered daily, and erasers purchased yearly for government offices). As the houses give way to shanties, the narrator declares, “Upon reaching the edge of the city proper (la ciudad organizada) statistics become uncertain…. This is where, between four and five in the afternoon…during 1956, 1957 and 1958, the following social survey film was shot.” The railroad bridge surveyed by the aerial camera just prior to the credits is the site of the first postcredit sequence. From God’s vantage point, the camera has descended to the eye level of the children who congregate there every afternoon. In the first postcredit shot, a little boy in close-up stares directly at the camera, then turns and runs out of frame. Other children appear in close-up, looking and speaking in direct address. Their barely audible voices are overlaid with the studied dramatic diction of two unseen adult narrators, male and female, who repeat what the children are saying, adding identifying tags like “…one of the boys told us,” or “…said another.” This initial sequence ends as the camera follows one of the boys home and “introduces” his mother in direct visual and verbal address, followed by her voice-over (soon compounded by the overlay of the mediating narrators) and images of observation and illustration. This “chain” sequence, whereby one social actor (usually a child) provides a visual link with another (usually an adult) continues throughout the film. The primary expectation deferred and eventually fulfilled by the film’s intricate structuration is the appearance of the long and anxiously awaited train to Buenos Aires. The interviews in which local residents discuss their economic plight are repeatedly intercut with shots back to the tracks and the growing number of children keeping their restless vigil there. The eventual climax of expectation (the subjects’ and the viewers’) has the bravest and fleetest of the children running alongside the passing train. As they balance precariously on the narrow, elevated bridge, their hands straining upward to catch any coin the passengers might toss in their direction, children’s voices on the sound track chant hoarsely, “Tire dié! Tire dié!” (Throw me a dime!"). The first product of the first Latin American documentary film school (The Escuela Documental de Santa Fe, founded by Birri in 1956 upon his return from Rome’s Centro Sperimentale), Tire dié was a collaborative effort whose evolution and ethos suggest a more observational than expository motivation. After selecting this particular theme and locale from preliminary photo-reportages, Birri divided his fifty nine students into various groups, each of which was to concentrate on a particular personage from the community under study: “We went there every afternoon for two years, to get to know these people, to exchange ideas, to spend time with them; but we ended up sharing their lives. We never concealed the fact that we were making a film, but neither did we emphasize it. The film was clearly secondary to the human relationships that we established. Despite severe financial and technical limitations, the group sought the synchronous self-presentation of social actors. Interventions by the authoritarian narrator cease after the initial precredit sequence. The filmmakers deleted their own presence from the interviews with riverbed residents, neither appearing on screen nor retaining their questions on the sound track. Generally, though not always, the film introduces social actors in direct visual and verbal address, followed by a montage of images of illustration and observation that are unified by the social actors’ voiceover commentary. Given this apparent commitment to direct verbal address, the persistent intervention of the anonymous male and female mediator-narrators, speaking over the voice of the social actors, is unexpected and disconcerting. Investigation into the film’s mode of production reveals that this expedient derives not from prior design but from deficiencies in the original sound recording. Faced with the inadequate technical quality of the recordings made during the filming, Birri and his students had to compromise their original conception: “We approached two well-known actors…and asked them to re-record the original soundtrack, not dubbing the film but rather serving as intermediaries between the protagonists and the public. This re-recording is what appears in the ‘foreground’ of the soundtrack, but beneath it we retained the original track….Even though at first glance this voiced-over ‘professional’ sound track seems contradictory to our approach, it was an unavoidable necessity.” This overdubbing technique is quite common today in foreign-language documentaries when the filmmakers wish to retain the “flavor” of the actual social actor’s speech, but here it plays quite an opposite role, signaling the locus of contradiction and branding this early and influential attempt to democratize documentary discourse with the unwanted stamp of residual authoritarian anonymity. “Tire Die: The ‘First Latin American
Social Survey Film’ is from: “Democratizing Documentary: Modes of
Address in the New Latin American Cinema, 1958-1972” by Julianne
Burton from THE SOCIAL DOCUMENTARY IN LATIN AMERICA, Julianne Burton,
Ed. |
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