In the final installment of our choice cuts from the year 2000 we delve deep into Mexican social tragedy, with a hint of Pulp Fiction.

Amores Perros  (Love's a Bitch); Alejandro González Iñárritu; Mexico; 2000

If there's one thing that we can still thank Tarantino for, it's inspiring a generation of filmmakers from Seoul to South America. In Inarritu's Amores Perros one finds the perfect example of multiple-narrative, cross cutting time-space confounding cinema that owes much to the Reservoir Dogs director whilst retaining a strong feeling of independence, making the experience of watching this oft-overlooked masterpiece genuinely unique, and marking one the strongest debuts of the decade. 

Summary: Not just a clever title, the film is a scathing critique of the way man treats fellow man told through his mistreatment of animals, namely dogs. Three tales are told, all of which are related to one another through a car wreck, and all of which are told without the use of continuity editing or a traditional narrative order. Beautifully interweaved, each picks up where the last left off, before we are guided back and forth within the new characters' lives. The boldness and fluidity of the editing offers an artistic beauty in stark contrast to the gritty and grime filled imagery on screen.

In our first tale, a young man is sleeping with his brother's wife, and the two have designs on escaping together with the winnings from some truly horrific dogfights. Our second story involves the victim of a car crash, a former model who is now housebound and paralysed. Tormented by a billboard containing the images from her last contract she waits for her husband to return from work each day, with only the company of her dog to stave off the loneliness of her life. But when her canine goes missing under the floorboards she can only listen to its cries for help, unable to do anything to aid her pet. The final point of poignancy centres on a tramp (a feature cropping up in the background of earlier scenes) who keeps a pack of dogs with him as he roams the city streets, hopelessly looking for redemption and possible reunification with his estranged family. 

It's brutal, harrowing and more than a little depressing, there's little redemption here with the characters changed beyond recognition by the events that unfold. Each of the three episodes offers a snapshot into their lives, and therefore each is inconclusive, leaving us desperately seeking closure, as in life. All performances are notable for their exceptional use of improvisation, marking Inarritu as a director that actually recognises his actors as artists, as oppose to pawns in a master plan. His treatment of the audience matches this ethic, meaning you need to keep on your toes to match the pace of the emotions on screen, and not just because it's in Spanish.

Memorable Moment: There are plenty, the sensitive moments as the tramp tends to his dogs in the shelter he calls home, the horrific car wreck (shown from many angles at many points in the film), or the moment the crippled supermodel gazes on a huge image of herself adorning an apartment block were all contenders. But we say the most lasting image of the film comes from the dogfights, and the ensuing chase that catapults the narrative into a desperate, emotional frenzy.

Best Line: Susana: "You and your plans. You know what my grandmother used to say? If you want to make God laugh... tell Him your plans."