Tango

A tired, clumsy, imaginatively arthritic tribute to the expressive and romantic power of tango, this integrates well-performed but uninspired dance sequences into a flaccid, studio-bound narrative about a brilliant, uncompromising, ageing director (a self-portrait?) putting on a tango extravaganza and having problems with philistine producers, his grief over the loss of his wife to another man, and his feelings for a beautiful young dancer. True, the film tries to explore many different facets of tango, but it fails throughout; even Storaro's uninspired camerawork can't save an appallingly misguided ballet recreating the fate of Argentina's 'disappeared'. Banal musings on creativity, reactionary crap about sexual politics, tricksy gimmicks with mirrors and silhouettes, the narcissistic portrait of the artist - all this would be bad enough, but Saura doesn't even shoot the dance sequences with any feeling for framing, movement or rhythm.