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Nine Queens cheats its way into your heart
by Joey Cody
I've never won at three-card monte, but I have friends who are always willing to lose a few bucks on the streets of New York, just to remind themselves not to get too cocky. It's a good way to maintain humility and perspective, and it's a fun way to lose a little money. (Slot machines don't really give you an entertaining spiel before they palm your dough.)
Nueve Reinas (Nine Queens) involves a ruse more sophisticated than a shell game, but just as entertaining. It offers up not only master prestidigitation, but also negotiation, competition, intimidation, manipulation, and more than a little retribution (but of course).
Written and directed by Fabi�n Bielinsky (assistant director on Sotto Voce), Queens swept last year's Argentinean Film Critics Association Awards. (It's also the Argentine equivalent to Stolen Summer, the contest-winner that was profiled on HBO's "Project Greenlight.")
With a set-up swiped from House of Games, Queens certainly pays homage to David Mamet. But the similarities soon melt away, making Queens much more lighthearted and unselfconscious than Mamet's Heist or Games.
At a Buenos Aires gas station, Juan is having success with the ole change trick, but when he tries it again a few minutes later on the late shift cashier, he's busted by the manager. Marcos, who has been watching it all go down, bails Juan out by posing as an undercover cop, roughing him up, and hauling him away.
After introductions are made, Marcos (Ricardo DarÍn, from Son of the Bride) critiques Juan's methods and gives him a few swindler's tips. And he eventually persuades Juan (Gast�n Pauls) to take the place of his regular confidence plot partner, just for the day, by way of thanks. Besides, Juan could really use some extra money, to help his pop get out of the clink.
The two con men quickly form an uneasy bond, trying to one-up each other in little scams, and discussing their "art." Their philosophizing and showing off reveals Marcos' slick, histrionic, scene-stealing style and Juan's more subtle, slouchy, sleight-of-hand approach. Everyone's fair game to Marcos, while Juan's youthful, nice-guy mug gives the impression that he's a very reluctant trickster.
After working together on a few double-deals, a potential big one lands in Marcos' lap, compliments of an aging ex-partner, Sandler.
Sandler is holding something very valuable—not cash or diamonds or coke—but a duplicate sheet of the extremely rare Nine Queens stamps, the crown jewel of philately. His counterfeit is nearly flawless, but the only high roller he can try to sell them to must leave the country the next day. If the guy takes the bait, he won't have time to do the lab tests that would expose the frauds.
But the high roller is a guest at the Buenos Aires Hilton, the hotel where Marcos' sister, Valeria (Leticia Brédice), busts her butt as concierge. Familial tensions have been running high since Marcos cheated the hard-working Valeria out of her inheritance, and it's highly doubtful she'll help out her doublecrossing bro.
Throughout the day, several other hitches threaten the high-stakes scheme. And the men's sketchy dynamic demonstrates how even con artists must have faith: When is something too good to be true? When can you trust that this might actually be your once-in-a-lifetime shot? Is this guy screwin' me? Questions all the more prevailing in a country where financial paranoia is not confined to a fear of pickpockets and purse-snatchers; it lurks in the minds of cash wranglers at every level—bankers, merchants, and ministers of finance.
Like the Nine Queens themselves, the movie has just a couple of flaws: it's a bit heavy on the chitchat (if your Spanish isn't fluent, you'll be doing a lot of subtitle reading), and it loses steam in the middle. But despite these minor defects, the convoluted plot has a great payoff. What's more, you get to watch the delectably defiant Valeria stomp and strut her stuff down the huge Hilton hallways.
The most charming aspect of Queens is that none of the charlatans think of themselves as "crooks." If this label is, in fact, applied to them, they each turn up their nose as Gaugin would if someone called him a cartoonist. Hustlers and grifters are proud of their skills, and view the methods of scummy muggers and common thieves with utter distaste. A good con man, you see, preys on a victim's greed or laziness—he's teaching you a lesson.
Packed with rogues and rascals, Queens is a fun ride, even when the whole audience gets conned in the end. (In this case, it was a pleasure to have eight bucks go missing from my wallet.) Go see Nine Queens, especially if you're one of those people who watch three-card monte safely from the sidelines, and are absolutely positive you know where the ace is.
Care to make it interesting?
July 4, 2002 * Vol. 12, No. 27
© 2000 Metro Pulse
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