I’m not usually one for mild-mannered sex farces in which cleavage and booty seem to be the main draw but when the author is Mario Vargas Llosa I’ll sit back and see what turns up. In this case we have a spoof of the Peruvian Army — and by extension most armies or any by-the-books organization— dressed out as a sex-spoof. The opening sequences as Capt. Pantaleon Pantoja [Salvador del Solar], Mr. Spit-and-Polish himself, gets his new orders to open up brothel services in the Peruvian jungle, are worthy a couple of Peter Sellars icons. The senior brass, entirely sure of themselves — and ready to cover up their part in this– have done due diligence on Pantoja and find that he is not only smart but obedient and a can-do guy. Someone to solve the epidemic of rapes, and children born to village women in the jungle. Let the Army provide prostitutes — undercover of course. Perfect!
Of course his toothsome wife, Pochita [Mónica Sánchez] doesn’t think so. She was hoping for a more plush assignment where they could get to work on “inviting the little cadet” into their lives. Assuring her he is on a secret assignment which he cannot divulge to her, Pantoja gets to work. He sets up spread sheets and graphs to figure out how many “visitors” (never, never whore!) at how many “renditions” (never, ever, fucks) per day it will take to service the soldiers in the jungle? What is the cost of gas for the boats? What is the travel time? How to keep the girls happy” As his COO he hires an old and faded madam, Chuchupe [Pilar Bardem] who was going to go out of business because the soldiers who came into her place in Iquitos never paid what was due. Now, she is on salary! It is all pretty tongue and cheek; not laugh out loud funny but good for a string of wide grins — as long as you can go along with the fantasy of happy hookers, as bracingly firm and supple as any you’re likely to see anywhere, all cheerfully competitive to make their quotas and then do more, still full of eagerness and fun, for the extra incentive pay. The girls are taken around to the various camps on a regular basis, dressed in uniforms based on patriotic colors, and the soldiers, drawing lots, stand in line — at Parade Rest– until it’s their turn; no trouble, no fist fights, everybody happy.
The organization becomes known as Pantilandia, using the boss’s name to say, specifically what is one everyone’s mind. At one point, Pantoja is called on the carpet by the chaplain, his senior, who had found out he has been distributing pornography while the men wait. “According to my studies,” Pantoja says, showing the charts, it decreases the time for each “rendering” by 2 minutes 12 seconds!”
Enter La Colombiana [Angie Cepeda], a femme fatal as direct and uninhibited as Hollywood never dared to put on the scrren. Pantoja is in big trouble! Wouldn’t he just like to “test” the merchandise, she asks. A sort of “quality control?” He holds out as only an impossibly correct soldier could, until…. And of course, his wife leaves, pregnant and furious. The farce continues until strangely, through a series of battles with a corrupt, moralizing radio jock, El Sinche, [Aristóteles Picho] and fury among native men that they aren’t in on the goodies, the film veers into tragedy. Even so, Vargas Llosa and the movie manage to continue the spoof of the army as Pantoja gives the victim a large, public military funeral and declares her a hero of the nation for her service to the troops.
The acting is quite good all around. Angie Cepeda manages to seduce everyone [I confess!] as she wraps Pantoja around her little finger. The other girls are equally fantastical, in every dimension. You have to love the saleswoman who names herself “Pechuga” [Breast]. Salvador del Solar is every inch the perfect soldier. In a great little line near the end, after he is given the choice of facing severe punishment for his work with the girls or the chance to quit the army, he chooses to stay in, and “redeem myself.” Chuchupe and her sidekick “The Dwarf,” make him an offer to work together as civilians. She can see a big payday with her management talents and his big-picture leadership. He says he can’t do it. He can’t be his own boss. He needs to take orders from others. And so, he is sent off to the freezing cold desert of Atacama, reunited with his wife and their “little cadet.”
It’s all pretty innocuous, nothing hard-core in it, maybe some borderline softcore but not too different than Hooters Girls. Pantoja is overcome a few times with jungle lust so we get some fleeting glimpses of haunch and breast. Nothing at all like the long long long takes Hollywood has recently decided that we, as consenting adults, need to see. Great scenery along the rivers and at the end, in the desert. Enjoy.
The novel, by the way, Captain Pantoja and the Special Service, [ in English,] is pretty short at 266 pages, translated by Ronald Christ and Gregory Kolvakos, so you might enjoy it as well. Of course there are more details, excursions into Peruvian life and sub-stories. The clergy fights back, as do the local prostitutes who don’t like the special service monopoly Pechuga, Pantoja and their girls are providing.
