I’m Gonna Explode

I’m Gonna Explode (Voy a explotar)

106 Minutes

Gerard Naranjo’s third feature film, I’m Gonna Explode (Voy a explotar), is basically Pierrot le fou transported to a small Mexican town by way of Rebel Without a Cause. That’s not being reductive. That’s actually an apt description. Naranjo himself acknowledges his indebtedness to Godard; the film’s title is not only an expression of the adolescent angst of Naranjo’s protagonists, but also an inside joke about the fate of the latter’s Pierrot. It would seem that Godard and teen rebellion would be a perfect union, but the results are mixed.

Roman (Juan Pablo de Santiago), the rich son of a right wing politician is kicked out of school and decides to introduce himself to his new school in peculiar fashion: he pretends to hang himself at a talent show. In the audience is disaffected 15 year old Maru (Maria Deschamps). She sees a kindred spirit and is instantly smitten. It doesn’t take long before the two scheme to run away together. In this dizzying first act, Naranjo manages to capture Godard’s freewheeling nihilism, romanticism and disdain for convention. And he does it in a refreshing way complete with bits of magic realism and even a fantasy about a Columbine-like massacre (it’s not as twisted as it sounds … or maybe it is). Roman then “kidnaps” Maru and the two run as far away as two bourgeoisie kids can – to the roof of Romans’ parents’ house. The setup of the oblivious parents below while the teenager’s relationship burgeons into a sexual one is as inspired as it is goofy. But it is also where the film starts to fall apart.

The film loses steam fast. As Maru and Roman wile away the hours without doing or saying anything remotely interesting, it becomes readily apparent that these two poor little rich kids are not rebels looking for a cause. They’re not looking for anything. They’re just complete bores. In fairness, Deschamps (with her unconventional almost world weary looks) has a certain vitality. But Santiago is wooden, devoid of personality, and struggles mightily with his role. As the last third clumsily devolves into tragic melodrama, the film becomes a form of cinematic water torture; the clock easier to watch than the screen.

Even when all the adults are gross caricatures (an expected staple in the youth rebellion genre) it’s still hard to care about Roman and Maru. That’s because they don’t care about anything themselves. They barely even care about other. Their main motivation is boredom. And that is very boring to watch. It would have helped if they were given something specific to whine about. Life sucks for you? Welcome to the real world, now grow up. But of course they can’t. They’re children. And that’s the problem. So when the film strives to recreate the nihilism of Pierrot le fou, it just doesn’t work. While Godard’s political and philosophical ideas were arguably faux-intellectual (according to Orson Welles, Ingmar Bergman and Werner Herzog), at least, he had ideas. His characters had a restlessness that was informed. Naranjo’s characters are just spoiled brats.

by James Shelledy