A visceral depiction of love and its effects, beautifully symbolic but hard to watch.
As part of the Alejandro G. Iñárritu film season running at BFI IMAX from September 20 to October 11 2026, the critically acclaimed Amores Perros had a screening for its 25th Anniversary. Introduced by writer and editor of Curzon Magazine, Ian Haydn Smith, the evening offered a rare opportunity to view one of Iñárritu’s most celebrated works ahead of his newest release Digger, coming out October 2nd.
Amores Perros – Spanish-Colloquially translated to “Love’s a Bitch” – is a visceral depiction of love and its consequences. Separated into three interconnected stories framed by a devastating car crash, each section offers a fable-like narrative that details the kinds of fallout that love can create.
The first and most infamous tale tells the story of Octavio and Susana as Octavio enters his Dog, Cofi, into a series of underground dog fights in order to support Susana and her newborn. This culminates in Octavio, Cofi and his friend crashing into an oncoming car, injuring a woman.
The subsequent story follows this woman, Valeria, a famous TV star, and her partner Daniel as they deal with the fallout of the crash and lose their lapdog under the floorboards of their house.
The final story centralises a homeless guerrilla turned hitman, El Chivo, who watches over his estranged daughter and cares for a pack of stray dogs. Coming across the car wreckage, El Chivo loots the scene for money, and takes in the wounded Cofi.
The triptych structure makes way for three parallel narratives that are deeply entrenched in symbolic storytelling. The title of the movie is not just a pithy omission of the Auteurs philosophy; it’s telling you what to look out for. Each dog (or dogs) offers a meaningful perspective on love. Cofi is at first a seemingly harmless dog, only to turn viscous in the ring: a lover and a fighter, much like his owner, Octavio. Daniel and Valeria are torn apart from one another after the accident, and so is their poor pet dog after getting trapped under the floor boards and encountering rats. Finally, the loyalty of the stray dogs and El Chivo’s taking in of a wounded Cofi offers something hopeful, perhaps the healing of his relationship with his daughter.
In this story, love is a dog, and it can be scrappy, lost or loyal.
As for visual elements, shaky cams and close ups are a staple of Iñárritu’s style. Mixed with warm colours and contrasts, there is a palpable heat to the tones of this film. In conjunction with the sound design, subtle at times and maximalised at others, what results is a tapestry of chaos that deeply contrasts what we expect to see in a love story.
This juxtaposition is the primary drive of the movie. While there is merit in this juxtaposition alone, it can make the viewing experience an extremely tough watch. Even the most hopeful note concluding the movie is an extremely bleak one. Coupled with depictions of hyper-real violence and acts of abuse, this film is not one recommended with ease. Though it is certainly recommended.
A final minor pitfall is the range of performances in the film. Lead performances from Gael García Bernal and Vanessa Bauche are commanding and strong, while supporting cast struggle to deliver the same gravitas, leading to the occasional soap-esque performance. Though this is a minor critique when regarding the spectacle of brutality this film offers.
Perhaps critiquing violent imagery and darker elements is redundant here. The Auteur intended on portraying a bleak view of love. On the other hand, perhaps too much of the film repulses, pushing the audience out. In the end, this is a movie best felt through its surface textures and symbolic meaning, tragic yet engineered to avoid any full catharsis.
More information on screenings at BFI Southbank available here.