I read Gabriel Garcia Marquez's Love In The Time of Cholera a couple of summers ago, and I was blown away by the imagery. The story, on the other hand, struck me as a little plain. The characters are multifaceted, the language and setting gorgeous, and the big question (can true love wait fifty years?) is really somewhat of a cliche. A love triangle spanning fifty years at the end of the 19th century in South America? Can you spell romance, because I'm pretty sure Marquez can.
Seeing as I'm not the kind of girl who's knocked off her feet by romance novels, I grew slightly bored with Fermina, Florentino, and Juvenal. The back and forth, the obsession, the pride which so often leads to prejudice, and the unsatisfactory marriages were all commonplace in my mind. Instead, I was struck again and again by the small descriptions of city streets in Europe and South America, by the childhood events and observances (for instance, Fermina's description of learning to smoke a cigarette with the lit end in her mouth), and the liberal and thoughtful use of language. These small gifts built an entire world in my head, so that even when I was tired of Florentino's constant, guilt-ridden womanizing, I was still interested in the story.
I was confused to read that the book was being made into a movie (which will be released in US theaters on Friday), because I feel that this book is one that needs to be chewed carefully and digested slowly. Fifty years of unrequited love adds up not only to a passionate finale, but also to many days of monotony and seemingly random observations that should not be swallowed whole. I doubt that I'm the only reader who required all 368 pages to even begin to understand the nuances of Marquez's poetry, and I don't know how the movie will do justice to the small earthquakes of emotion that shake the book and the reader.
If the soundtrack is any indication though, the film-makers are paying close attention to the details. Released today, the majority of the soundtrack is composed of score songs by Antonio Pinto with three delicate and bold songs by Shakira. The songs rarely break the three minute barrier, yet they encompass a spectrum of emotional highs and lows. "Love" begins softly with a dark, clockwork undertone, while "White Suit" is a playful, yet almost mournful serenade (there's always some sadness in celebration). "Hildebranda", "The Widow", and "Sex Drum" play up the sensuality of Latin rhythm. "My New Life", "1900", and "The Boat" are softer, calmer, and more mature approaches to love. I can easily imagine these songs soundtracking the intertwined lives of Florentino (along with his ubiquitous lovers), Fermina, and Juvenal. The Shakira songs add a voice to the soundtrack that's particularly soothing. Shakira acts as narrator with three tracks that are as passionate as they are schizophrenic. "Hay Amores" strikes me as a nice introduction to the film, an opening credit song that hits on all the major points. On the other hand, "Despedida" simmers and boils over like the best of Carlos Santana. Instead of being governed by a guitar solo, "Despedida" is governed by Shakira's voice, which creates sounds akin to magic realism. "Pienso en Ti" shudders with delicacy, and echoes with catharsis. I hope that this triad has been placed at the beginning, middle, and end of Love in the Time of Cholera, because they strike me as appropriate guideposts in this long journey.
I am still uncertain about Love in the Time of Cholera, and my current hope (raised by the gorgeous soundtrack) may be deflated when I actually see the movie. Still, Antonio Pinto and Shakira have made me think twice about dismissing Love.
No comments:
Post a Comment