Pokemon Monopoly Online

This has already happened (Anja Salomonowitz, 2009)

Arráncame life

The film begins and ends at the border, guarded by the same officer, accompanied only by a few sleepless windmills, like a return trip to one of the dark-but limpid, clean- realities of the current Austria. The first person narrating to the camera has always generated a certain effect of discomfort in the viewer, but the director Anja Salomonwitz is something beyond this resource: the characters look at us and tell us, unblinking, certain events occurred, but more than have as their own, is not his history. This has already happened is divided into five stories taken from the hand of five different narrators, a customs official, a seller of town in years, the owner of a brothel, a consul and a taxi driver. The stories, far from merely cite the trafficking in women in Austria and the rest of Europe, talks about the exploitation of women in a more open, not just watching the sex trade, but also emotional and financial abuse. Everything is prostitution: the soul, the body of the work force. The cases are varied: the woman who is sold by her boyfriend to a brothel where virtually remains a hostage, including and physical threats of deportation, the maid to a family who makes it work like a slave, regardless of their forces, the foreign after marrying an Austrian, living end trapped between the four walls of your home.

All these stories have circulated more than once in the cinema and newspapers, but the characters of Salomonwitz, voiceless and faceless own, based on small details like tiny darts are stuck in the soul of the viewer (such as does the narrative asceticism and devastating Amy Hempel), depart from any common ground or classic archetype. The director takes the spokespersons telling those stories in places sober, meticulously filmed, like a freshly cleaned the crime scene by the murderer and his henchmen. In the scene there died or silhouettes marked with chalk, but what could be. None of these reporters know the players, but they are perfectly once may have crossed the customs official when he signed the visa of one of them once every three months, the driver being a prostitute fleeing her pimp. The stories are there, embedded in that story cold, almost uninflected voice, as if the narrators were depersonalized black box, generating a stroke of very profound effect, which is that we are all witnesses, and therefore complicit that machinery.

There are plenty of films about sexual exploitation, but most choose to provide a cathartic outlet to the matter. You can either capture the same players being interviewed on the set, telling their life stories and crying in front of the camera or film can be chosen recreation, or even telling others what happened with obvious feeling, as if they were actually owned by the spirit of the narrators (as known testimonies of people tortured under the dictatorship read by actors in the theater). Salomonwitz turns from all these resources, and relatively cool in the radical absence, emotional effects achieved unthinkable: the absence of catharsis, the story goes invading, as if by osmosis, the same audience, finding no channel through which to divert the course of emotions that spread underground slowly. Emotional outbursts, however painful they may be, often fail to purge, sort things out at the viewer. This already happened in , however, this effect is perhaps disturbing artistic and technical achievement more remarkable about this film that just 72 minutes to close, unrounded anything, just leaving us with a huge sack of situations that seem to be about of fraying.

What is the end is only the mills that are still functioning fine and white in the meadows of Austria that seems unrelated to any matter concerning humans. Consideration whether it be that these mills are grinders, but the gears running smoothly in a raw, without fail, still running, imperturbable, in front of our noses, or if not be the blades of a meat grinder to that these women are throwing.