In “We Are What We Are,” an urban family decays from within, infected with the sins of the father. His avarice in the face of his family’s compromised social strata has led them to tradition, to ritual. The free market has kicked them out quite literally, their street-side stolen goods stand threatened by fear from the natural aggression of animals backed against a wall. The politics of the small family – a mother, her two sons, and a daughter – have come to the forefront with dad’s departure, but one senses it’s been a long time coming.
On top of these complications, yes, they are cannibals. Maybe not spirited ones (yet) but the family undoubtedly knows the value of a good rib bone. It’s only apparent later on that, in our only glimpse of the father, we may have been watching a traditional George Romero zombie. Hunched over, drunk, gargling bile, he lurches forward in a memorable opening sequence, a marionette with the strings giving way. His last moments are spent – where else? – in a mall, gazing at the designer clothes his family cannot afford.
The problem, of course, is that this is not a natural family of killers and cannibals. Mom certainly talks tough, but she seems at a motivational loss with her husband’s disappearance, spending time locked in her room, grinding what we can only assume is delicious gristle pie. It’s up to the two warring siblings, Alfredo and Julian. Alfredo has already been anointed the leader, and though he rejects the designation, he’s clearly the most clear-headed of the clan. He also may have the title by default since his brother is a restless, violent tough guy wannabe, a jittery combination of bottled frustration and jangly nerves.
With the unit unable to take initiative, the young daughter suggests finding victims for the ritual in the local prostitutes. Her feelings of self-worth appear to be damaged, poisoned by the proximity to warring brothers and an asexual mother. This bunch doesn’t socialize much, so when she greets the sound of a door opening by rising from her seat politely and straightening her dress to emphasize her figure, it speaks volumes. Is she reflecting jealously in the community of whores, tight-knit like a family, seen defending each other in battle and restoring their sisters’ honor? Perhaps she, like the rest of the family, blames them for taking her father away.
You can always hear the sound of a ticking clock in “We Are What We Are.” Once dad departs, the future no longer holds such promise. It is the mother who seems aware of this, sentencing her sons to labor while instructing her daughter to fix the broken clocks. The recurring motif of the tick-tock provides a soundtrack fueled by desperation which gains an added layer when one realizes it’s actually the sound of a dripping faucet just out of reach.
There are no scenes of sex in “We Are What We Are,” but misplaced carnal desire fuels several key moments between characters. There’s a voyeuristic sheen to moments like one brother spying on his mother grinding up dinner through the crack of a door, or another peeking through the window listlessly while standing side-by-side with his sister, the two absentmindedly hiding this intimacy underneath window drapes. When Alfredo decides to follow a young teen male, it leads him to a gay club, where he encounters a conflict from within regarding his own identity. This sequence is notable for the sexual potency – the boy knows full well he’s being pursued – as well as a strong connection with a similar homosexual pursuit sequence in Paul Verhoeven’s “Spetters,” in both tone, playfulness and even matching camera angles.
Director Jorge Michel Grau’s debut can be considered a black comedy, though at times the tone wavers. When events turn towards the dire, you’re not far from one character emerging from offscreen to surprise someone by caving their head in. At times, this tonal shift is welcomed – the gang of female and transgender prostitutes is straight out of a Troma production, a concession made in good humor – but in others, it’s merely repetitive, as social commentary from a pair of purposely lackluster cops only distracts from the story. But “We Are What We Are” remains a vital piece of cinema, a story of family under duress given a little extra spice. Maybe oregano. And a slice of arm. Mmm, delicious. [A-]
