A Mexican filmmaker/journalist who made his name with acclaimed socially-conscious work has his identity challenged and is plunged into an existential crisis upon his celebratory return home after 20 years away in the US, forcing him to confront a society now alien to him and question his perception of the past life which formed him and his changing nation, in this inventive surrealist and transcendental personal odyssey from the writer/director of ‘Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance)’ and ‘The Revenant’.
The last few years have seen a mini trend of acclaimed filmmakers returning to their roots to tell personal semi-autobiographical fictional stories rooted in their own experiences and self-image, with the likes of Alfonso Cuarón and Kenneth Branagh bringing us moving films like ‘Roma’ and ‘Belfast’. Now after over twenty years since his last feature cinematic voyage in his native Mexico and unprecedented award-winning success abroad, Mexican writer/director Alejandro G. Iñárritu returns home to join the trend but take an entirely different route. Placing the audience in the mind of a fictional character who personally reflects his own journey, living and re-living life experiences while contemplating them in visually arresting style and taking us on a strikingly surrealist journey through memory and interpretation, and across the history of the country which formed him . . . including its complicated relationship with its big neighbour to the north.
Daniel Giménez Cacho stars as celebrated US-based journalist and documentarian ‘Silverio’, back in Mexico City after decades with his wife ‘Lucia’ (Griselda Siciliani) and his Americanised children ‘Camila’ (Ximena Lamadrid) and ‘Lorenzo’ (Íker Sánchez Solano) to be honoured by his peers, only to be confronted by his people and the fleeting memories of a life and a country he left behind. As he embarks on a dreamlike odyssey which blends memory with imagination, and the history of his native country with formative experiences—forcing him to question whether he can truly accept himself as a person and live with the contradictory reality of who he is . . . whatever that is.
To say that ‘Bardo’ is an unconventional proposition and something of an acquired taste would be somewhat of an understatement, plus a bold declaration considering it comes from the mind which brought us ‘Babel’ and ‘Birdman’, and Iñárritu’s approach is bound to divide critical opinion, so it’s best to heed his advice that this is a film to be experienced more than it is to be understood—as he blends the symbolic and metaphorical with the surreal and existential, while weaving together a plot somewhere in there. But if you go in with an open and inquisitive mind and accept the striking cinematic voyage you’re about to undertake, one which would make Hunter S. Thompson proud, then the Mexican master’s latest has so much to offer.
Iñárritu’s stylistic signatures are all over ‘Bardo’ and his filmmaking method evident from the start as he fully deploys the constantly moving camera and creative mix of shots we’ve come to expect—from low angles and closeups to over-the-shoulder and overhead shots, even the nifty use of drones—but all taken to a new level and brought to life when combined with stunning landscape shots and generally striking cinematography from Darius Khondji (Se7en, The Beach).
Partially reflecting his own personal life experiences but equally taking a hypothetical and fictional character journey, Iñárritu places the audience in the mind of his protagonist Silverio as he reconnects with figures from a previous life and re-imagines the memories which made him, often going down a surreal route and taking the form of wonderfully weird set pieces which cycle through everything from bizarre births and psychedelic dance numbers to peculiar bathroom family reunions.
But the Mexican writer/director also jumps at the chance take us and his lead character on a visually striking journey through the complex and personally formative history of their country. From ancient Aztec and Mesoamerican cultures and their fall through Spanish conquest to the difficult 19th and 20th century relationship with its huge neighbour to the north—which still so affects the country and its people—all the way to the modern crises of migration, political ineptitude/corruption and the sobering power of the Narcos, which are all interlinked and determine the collective fortunes of Mexico.
All the film’s existential and wonderfully weird elements are woven together with varying tones of dark whimsy and black humour, fused together by the performance of the ensemble Mexican cast who at times turn ‘Bardo’ into an unconventional but perceptive and poignant family drama—but at its heart this is a one-man-show revolving around Daniel Giménez Cacho’s sterling central performance.
Essentially amounting to Iñárritu’s alter ego, the lead character of Silverio is a walking contradiction, an accomplished and celebrated artist/journalist who still suffers from impostor syndrome, yearning for recognition but unable to accept it when it comes. He’s also someone out of touch with the country of his birth, quick to laud and defend it from criticism from outsiders but swift to criticise its failings and harsh realities, all of which make him relatable . . . particularly to fellow immigrants and expats.
Through this complex protagonist and his dreamscape interactions with the varying facets of Mexican society around him, Iñárritu takes aim at consumerism and capitalism led by American “neo-imperialism”, but he doesn’t hold back on the pompous and hypocritical liberalism which attacks it whilst simultaneously suckling on the tit of the USA, not to mention all the other systems and political players which have failed Mexico so spectacularly in recent history. And he doesn’t miss the opportunity to expose the vapidity of our current constantly connected, mass media culture.
Ultimately ‘Bardo’ will divide opinion with its highly unconventional and boundary-less storytelling approach, no doubt proving too surreal and ponderous for some who might also take issue with its near three-hour runtime, and as usual there will be criticisms of self-indulgence, which usually only come when someone has an issue with the end result. But when you have a visionary director in reflective mood and with this much to get off his chest, we say indulge away for as long as you want, and if you come into this with an open and inquisitive mind then you’ll leave with a unique and invigorating cinematic experience which will linger in the memory.
The Bottom Line…
A vividly weird personal portrait of a man in existential crisis and strikingly surreal voyage through Mexican history, ‘Bardo (or False Chronicle of a Handful of Truths)’ is a cinematic odyssey best experienced rather than understood, as Alejandro G. Iñárritu further underlines his reputation as one of the most daring storytellers working on screens today with an engrossing and unique concoction which grips from the start and leaves a head-scratching impression—as he takes the increasingly popular trend of acclaimed directors making reflective semi-autobiographical character dramas decidedly off the beaten path.
‘Bardo (or False Chronicle of a Handful of Truths)’ is available on Netflix from the 16th of December.
A black & white Spanish language character piece set in the social and political bustle of Mexico in the early 70s, following the tribulations of an upper middle-class family and their domestic servants, who prove the stoic beating heart of the group—as the director of ‘Children of Men’ and ‘Gravity’ returns home for a meditation on family, class and the idea of home.
Directed by Alfonso Cuarón and starring Yalitza Aparicio, Marina de Tavira and Diego Cortina Autrey among others.
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