Año Uña (Year of the Nail) Review
Jonás Cuarón's début is an exciting, charming and genuinely touching coming-of-age movie that defies conventional generic boundaries. The son of Alfonso, Cuarón Jr. draws on many notions from his father's work and indeed the broader context of recent Mexican cinema; a cross generational relationship, the trials of puberty and the fleeting moments that shape young lives, so intense and affecting at the time yet painfully short-lived. But here they are shaped into an experimental and fresh piece of work that resembles the exotic child from a union between La Jetée and Y Tu Mamá También. A documentary spliced with coming-of-age drama composed entirely of still photographs edited into a narrative that spans a year in the lives of Molly (Eireann Harper), a 21 year old American travelling through Mexico, and Diego (Diego Cataño), a typically and perpetually horny 14 year old – naïve, romantic and troubled by a persistent ingrowing toenail.
For a year Cuarón shot the film by taking thousands of photographs of people during their everyday lives, unstaged and unposed. As he compiled the photos for an installation, ordering them into 'scenes', a narrative strand emerged - that of Diego, Cuarón's young brother, and Eireann, his girlfriend. So whilst the narrative and voice-over is entirely fictional, the shots of Eireann and Diego together are genuine, capturing the wonder, comedy and surprise, the boredom, awkwardness and unpleasantness in a variety of situations.
Molly meets Diego when she rents a room in his parents' house in Mexico and the two immediately strike up a relationship despite the age gap. Both are at turning points in their lives; Diego in the turmoil of puberty and Molly on the brink of post-education adulthood. Diego develops a full-blown teenage crush as the duo hang out together and earnestly tries to impress Molly in the most endearing and innocent ways that only teenagers can muster. Wonderfully accurate internalised monologues show the chasm of maturity but united spirit as they get to know each other, whether visiting Diego's grandmother, taking the pet cat for an operation or eating corn dogs on Coney Island. Molly realises that although an impossible relationship in many ways, Diego is able to cater for her needs where a string of arguably even less suitable boyfriends couldn't.
A gentle yet profoundly moving film, Año Uña captures the uncertainty, irrepressible urges and transience of growing up with flair, imagination and telling insight. A work of fiction with no actors, a documentary with a fictional narrative. However you look at this, it's a remarkable piece of film making that betrays a sensitivity and imagination that promises great things from Cuarón.
Año Uña is at UK cinemas from 28th November.
