What did I see within about 1 hour and 20 minutes? A black-and-white depiction of things what 2 young schoolboys and 1 older schoolgirl do when/if they are left alone... And if a pizza man refuses to leave. Well, mostly trivial things, and non-trivial ones are not inviting, as they are partially over-sophisticated, partially incomplete... True, directing and camera-work are distinct and uncommon, but they are the main values of Temporada de patos to me. Performances are so-so, not memorable, and the logic of events is not always clear or well explained. The ending leaves to be desired as well.Yeah, it is a film about young teens - but not for teens, especially who live "in the now", who prefer more eventful fun and hanging about. Thus, a film for art's sake - or vice versa, but its means and goals did not get through my head in full.

Imagine the most unremarkable series of events taking place any given day of your life. Then imagine that within those trivial moments in which you life your life, something new is added -- the sneaky, near-invisible element of human baggage and quiet awakenings -- and you have yourself the story that unfolds in TEMPORADA DE PATOS (DUCK SEASON).A mother leaves her fourteen-year old son Flama (Daniel Miranda) alone in the tenement apartment where she lives in Mexico City to go visit her sister. He's with his best buddy Moko (Diego Catano), and they both pass time playing violent video games. A neighbor, an older girl named Rita (Danny Perea) pops in to use the oven because hers isn't working and she's baking a cake. Bored and hungry, the boys order pizza.Its late arrival (which the delivery man, Ulises (Enrique Arreola), vehemently denies) is the fulcrum of the events that build up the story's thin plot. The boys feel they shouldn't have to pay, to which Ulises decides he won't leave without his payment. First he sits rather menacingly at the door, but the boys decide maybe it's best to play a video game with Ulises. If they win, their pizza is free; if they lose, they must pay.Meanwhile, Rita continues making her cake, making little appearances here and there. She seems lonely and tries to insinuate herself into the threesome... and when the power goes out, her asking Moko for help in finishing making her cake hints that she's there for a little more than just borrowing their kitchen for the afternoon.The boys lose to Ulises. Flama reluctantly pays up, insulting Ulises with an ugly smooch. Ulises' frustration finally makes its appearance as he hits (and cuts) Flama, but to make up for his horrible yet brief moment of violence makes him retreat his steps, and his tragic story unfolds...Watching TEMPORADA DE PATOS made me feel of those short, unassuming stories I used to read in high school that in their brevity managed to say a whole lot more than a grandiose novel. The way the foursome's inner motives play against and with each other comes in the most unexpected ways, and Fernando Eimbecke's approach is that of an almost improvised movie that unfolds its treasures in minute yet poignant ways. I thought it was impressive, because the initial appearance of Ulises seems to warrant a creepiness that I did not open myself to; however, the longer he stayed in the story, the deeper it became. This becomes true due to the fact that while all of them acknowledge the presence of the most invisible picture in the living room -- the type of picture prevalent in many Hispanic homes, depicting pastoral scenes -- Ulises is the one who really comes to realize its significance.TEMPORADA DE PATOS is a rarity that people tired with the norm should pay attention to. It's funny, but not in the way one would expect (and check that last scene after the end credits!). It's sad, because of the hinted isolation in which all of the characters are caught in. It's hopeful and uplifting, and I loved it for its honesty.

I can't believe everybody loves this film. Perhaps I'm wrong, but this is maybe the worst Mexican movie EVER!!!! It has no rhythm, the editing is awful, the performances are good enough, but COME ON!!!! it is not even close to Sobrenatural, Cronos, Solo con tu pareja, Y tu mama tambien. I mean, if you like Mexican movies you can't be serious if you think Temporada de patos is a masterpiece. For those who haven't watching it, trust me before minute 20 you'll be snoring. But the same happened in Mexico, somehow all those who believe that are film experts and critics loved the movie. But it passed through theaters as fast as the wind. Don't get cheated!!!

Temporada de patos has gone the rounds of fests and swept the Mexican equivalent of the Academy Awards. Being a minimalist at heart, I don't know why people keep saying this is "a slight conceit" and "not much happens" and stuff like that. Not much happens in Samuel Beckett's Endgame and Waiting for Godot either -- except a consideration of the most important questions about existence. Cut out the crap, and you may be left with the good stuff. It's been said that the dumb silences in Jarmusch are smarter; I don't think so; they're just hipper-looking. This is a not a movie about hipness, but about everyday life, and its moments of transition, focused on a couple of fourteen-year-olds in a middle class apartment in Mexico City on a Sunday and a pizza man who stays to argue over getting paid and a sixteen-year-old girl from next door who stays to do some baking because her oven isn't working and, let's face it, she's lonely. Actually almost nothing happens in Antonioni's L'Avventura either but it was given a famous award at Cannes for inventing "a new cinematic language." In fact real time, and the reduction of eventfulness typical of real life, are so rarely expressed in cinematic language it seems something quite new when they are, and this, to me, is the virtue of Duck Season -- as well as its sincerity and, despite its modesty, its emotional validity. Mexico loved Duck Season but in America it's politely nodded to but then everyone has to say "it's a slight conceit." The thing is, Antonioni's L'Avventura contained not only adults, but elegant Italians, including Monica Vitti. It's not such a pleasure to look at Moko (Diego Cataño) and Flama (Daniel Miranda). Flama's nervous mama leaves them to an Sunday of Slayer and large lovingly poured glasses of iced Coca. Do you remember that Coca Cola used to have cocaine in it? It's obvious that Moko and Flama are getting hopped up. But then the electricity goes off. Minimalism is like Zen meditation. If you think of nothing, if you stop and sit, if you simply count to ten over and over, you will open the doors of perception. That electrical shutdown stops the action. Periodically Duck Season does that. Duck Season is a boring movie. But it's also an adorable movie (I think that's why it made the sweep of the Mexican awards). Beckett's plays are boring too. But they're also hilarious, tragic, and profound. Funny what all you can do with nothing. Duck Season encourages close observation. It begins with a series of static shots of middle-distance scenes around the apartment complex where the action, in black and white, occurs. These set us up to appreciate the value of stillness. But the movie is a joke. Flama's mom keeps coming back worried that something hasn't been turned off. When she's finally gone the boys peek out and scream with delight. The joke is that their fantasy perfect Sunday isn't going to happen. The non-stop Slayer action is constantly interrupted. Duck Season makes a bad painting of birds in flight into a huge symbol. Flama's parents are involved in preparing for a bitter divorce, and the painting is one of the biggest bones of contention. Flama's own imbitteredness is reflected in his mastery of the cruel put-down. Curly-haired, cupid-lipped Moko has been his pal forever. It's not clear whether Moko gets turned on by Flama or it's merely that all his memories of getting turned on involve Flama because they're always together. Director Fernando Eimbcke worked with the young actors to invent his plot. There are in fact many films where nothing happens and they are the hardest to describe, because "nothing happens" means that every tiny detail is a plot element. The pizza man works for a company that pledges no charge if delivery isn't within half an hour. Ulises (Enrique Arreola) is so named because he's sidetracked on his journey and almost never comes back from it. Flama insists he's over the thirty-minute zone by eleven seconds. Ulises challenges that claim but Flama won't pay so the delivery man stays on to play a soccer video game to see who wins. When Rita (Danny Perea) serves them all marijuana brownies, they're deep in Lotusland and nobody's going anywhere for a good long while: the high expands the time that was already stretched for us by being slowed down. Using Ulises as the exemplary traveler, Eimbcke slyly points out that getting stuck is part of any serious journey. He paints well enough with the personalities and habits he had on hand to create elegance and meaning. Moko's confused, emerging sexuality, Rita's concealed loneliness, Ulises' dreams of return to San Juan (his Ithaka), Flama's anger at his divorcing parents' petty squabbles, are so cunningly engraved on the plot's minimal surface that they stay with you. As the pizza man's name shows, this dull Sunday in a Mexico City apartment is a wild and rather dangerous journey. Despite the natural opacity of fourteen-year-old boys – which we'd never have penetrated if they'd kept playing their video games – everyone reveals themselves in Duck Season. Slowing down action opens up character. As film critic Michaël Melinard of the Paris newspaper L'Humanité says, Eimbcke needs to be grouped with the new Mexican filmmaker elite – Alfonso Cuarón, Alejandro González Iñárritu, and Carlos Regadas. Jane Austen, one of the greatest novelists in English, famously described her marvelous books – whose social scale was indeed restricted – as "the little piece of ivory on which I work." Eimbcke works on a little piece of ivory in Duck Season too, and his social scale is as restricted as Jane Austen's, but he has a knack for getting close to his characters, and he shows us that in the right hands less is more.