‘Corina’ Review: A Refreshingly Endearing, Surprisingly Incisive Defense of Happy Endings That Plays Like Mexican ‘Amélie’

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Since its initial release to widespread critical praise and unprecedented box office success, Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s “Amélie,” a whimsical blend of drama and comedy about an eccentric Parisian woman who finds love through acts of kindness, has remained a cultural staple and inspired numerous filmmakers. However, the influence can sometimes be seen quite clearly, such as in Urzula Barba Hopfner’s debut work, “Corina.” This film, charmingly original and subtly artistic, bears a striking resemblance to “Amélie,” but it offers a fresh perspective.

A 20-year-old woman struggling with agoraphobia resides in Guadalajara, Mexico’s second largest city and birthplace of filmmaker Guillermo del Toro. The main character, portrayed by Naian González Norvind (from “New Order”), dresses in boots, a maxi skirt, and sports the iconic French bob hairstyle reminiscent of actress Audrey Tautou as Amélie Poulain from the movie “Amélie.” The visual resemblance to Jeunet’s romantic tale isn’t just noticeable; the story, titled “Corina,” starts with a voice-over narration and flashbacks detailing Corina’s traumatic childhood following her father’s sudden demise. Her fearful mother, Reneé (played by Carolina Politi), had isolated their world to just a few city blocks. Corina has never ventured beyond the boundaries she deems safe. She commutes to work at a publishing house within a newspaper company building, then to the nearby grocery store, and finally back home, always counting her steps.

Despite the seemingly ordinary portrayal of Barba Hopfner’s character that might remind you of familiar tropes, the story unexpectedly develops its unique quirks, not just due to its Mexican setting or Corina’s ambition as a writer, but primarily because it delves deeper into themes such as self-realization, bravery, and the importance of stepping out of your comfort zone – a concept that is literally manifested in this story. This narrative echoes some of the ideas explored in “Amélie,” but it also offers fresh perspectives, maintaining a charmingly unconventional tone while carving its own distinct path.

Growing weary from editing pulp novels, Corina deviates from her usual demeanor when the publisher faces issues with its top-earning author, Xareni Silverman (Mariana Giménez). The executives fail to persuade Silverman to alter the ending of her latest novel, a dark twist that contradicts the established narrative of her series and could lead to its failure. Intrigued by the manuscript, Corina secretly rewrites the finale with an optimistic twist. This act is primarily driven by her personal satisfaction, but the revised text somehow lands on her superior’s desk. The chain of events that follow, reminiscent of a plotline in Pedro Almodóvar’s “The Flower of My Secret,” may not be surprising, but they set Corina on a plausible path of growth.

In public settings, González Norvind portrays Corina’s discomfort with novel encounters and situations through a tense expression and jittery body language. Her dialogue takes a backseat to her understated display of resilience. Cinematographer Gerardo Guerra (“Dos Estaciones”) captures Corina intimately, suggesting the frame struggles to accommodate her presence as she moves within her limited surroundings.

In the role of Corina’s caring mother, Politi brings a humorous warmth that leaves a lasting impact on screen. On the other hand, Cristo Fernández, portraying a fresh clerk at the local store named Carlos, doesn’t exactly appear as a romantic interest, but rather as a friendly confidant. This subtle shift in dynamics subtly moves away from romance driving the storyline, even though Corina appears to take a liking to him.

Corina’s vibrant wardrobe stands out against the subdued, predominantly gray tones of the publishing house she works in, suggesting a distinct frequency or vibe. Her living space, adorned with colorful clothes and pink-tinted walls decorated with postcards and trinkets, mirrors this unique style, bringing to mind Amélie’s quirky home. Corina’s appearance strikes the right balance between being well-groomed and not overly so, echoing a similar balance in Barba Hopfner’s filmmaking concepts.

In the charming storyline of “Corina”, we encounter an unexpected defense of positive perspectives and hopeful conclusions against a backdrop of a chaotic world. Filmmaker Barba Hopfner presents this contrast by juxtaposing Corina’s character with her literary counterpart, who embodies pessimism. The latter advocates that people’s capacity for empathy has its limits, suggesting that apathy often prevails in the face of distress. Despite growing up in an overly protective and cautious environment, Corina’s form of courage asserts that acknowledging the darkness within reality, while seeking joy amidst it, can be revolutionary. Neither woman’s perspective is entirely flawed; it’s in the balance between skepticism and hope that “Corina” moves beyond lightheartedness and attains wisdom.

The filmmaker places “Corina” in an unusual territory within Mexican cinema – not your typical art house film with heavy social themes showcased at international festivals nor common comedies filled with familiar faces and predictable storylines. Instead, Barba Hopfner’s unique creative style emerges from the influence of prior works, promising a debut that could resonate globally beyond Mexico. Unlike “Amélie”, Corina’s happiness doesn’t stem solely from finding love, but rather from the chance to write and live her own stories. Although it may seem like comparing “Corina” to other adaptations of well-known movies, in the end, it transforms into something unique and original.

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2025-03-14 06:47