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Mirada virgen sobre el #15FICM: Agua bendita o la forma del recipiente

Gabriela Onetto @ginebra

Estoy esperando formada con acreditados especiales de prensa e invitados internacionales, casi en la puerta de la sala y media hora antes de la función; aquí no puede acceder nadie porque es la desembocadura del pasillo por ahora vedado, en custodia de muchachos cancerberos que supervisarán esta entrada previa antes de que accedan las masas de taquilla. Es el último lengüetazo de la alfombra roja, esa que tanto pavor me dio con sólo verla la primera vez, y que me sigue intimidando —vengo de un país en el que no existen ni los rockstars ni los tlatoanis, y en el que cualquier alfombra roja, literal o simbólica, sería casi una afrenta a la pretensión nacional de la homogeneidad; nomás que ahora mi estrategia es pasar durita, rapidito, y pensar que las mejillas súbitamente coloreadas quedarán a tono. Hoy sí que son metros y metros de vallas metálicas organizando al público, y muchos reflectores y muchos guardias; lo amerita la ocasión. Es que Guillermo del Toro presentará en el FICM su última película, León de Oro 2017 en el Festival de Venecia —es el primer mexicano en obtener esta distinción—; esa cuya imagen viene conviviendo con los invitados desde el primer día, dibujo turquesa y negro impreso en los bolsos obsequio del festival. No sé nada de este filme; más bien he seguido la obra de su creador (y su cuenta de Twitter, @RealGDT) y, sólo gracias a los bolsos, conozco su título: La forma del agua —The Shape of Water—, que me imanta por su condición fluida, la facultad que sugiere de adaptarse al recipiente sin perder jamás su naturaleza. Y también me lleva a esos pasajes lacustres del principio de este viaje, esa frontera acuática con la que Michoacán busca preservar algunos de sus misterios.

"Am I supposed to fit in there?", He says, incredulous, looking at the comfortable Cinépolis armchair that, in front of all his greatness, looks narrow. But he sits on his throne and seems to fit pretty well in it; from there, he will reign at the next festivals, even if he is not present (just in case, he jokingly demands that no one takes photos or film when he tries to stand up). Such talent, so recognized, and yet simplicity full of humor seems to be his hallmark; in much of the upper part of the cinema, however, many star in a gala wearing their best clothes and VIP attitudes. A matter of approach.

"We live in a country where the sublime and the terrible happen from one moment to the next", he speaks of Mexicanness as a communion between the fantastic and the everyday, and this is certainly true. That's why Mexico courts, fascinates. One more reason to come to FICM.

*

When I saw the turquoise and black image on the bag, of the woman and that strange being on her back, in erotic closeness, the disturbing scene of Isabelle Adjani making love to the monster in Possession (1981), by Zulawski came to mind immediately (film that I saw twice, with a 20-year difference to recover!), but nothing could be further from that. Now I have reconciled with the festival bag; After watching the movie, its aquatic drawing reminds me of love, the kind that doesn't impose, the kind that does not define.

I predict many more prizes for The Shape of Water; for starters, because - in addition to its powerful and careful visual universe - it can take root in previous cinema, to point to the alibi of an imaginary, to integrate codes. Blessed water that takes the shape of the container.

At the end of the show, Daniela Michel told, moved, that for the first time in the 15 years of the festival, she had seen a director sign autographs and take pictures with anyone who asked for two hours and fifty minutes. Without interruption, in almost mystical delivery. He was exhausted, but happy.

It should not be a coincidence that two days later, for his master classes at the Ocampo Theater, the line of young people standing in the sun extended around the corner for two hours before. It was broadcast online, but holy water can only be received in person.

Right now, as I write this, the bells of the cathedral are tolling...