Castro Film Difficulty Ranking: 3

Here’s a truly original action film. You’ll get to see some truly quirky (and Argentinian?) humour in this fast paced action comedy that you won’t see anywhere else. But even if you don’t understand why this trio is running all over town in search of one guy you can appreciate the cinematography (the editing and camera movement make it tick). Tune in for some Latin American fun!

Why Watch Castro?
  • You like your action films quirky and fast
  • You loved Naked Gun and Airplane! and want to see Argentina’s equivalent
  • For more films from Argentina’s El Pampero films – check out Extraordinary Stories for more great contemporary Argentine film
  • Watch out for the great score and cinematography
Breakdown

There’s a lot of running in the introduction to Castro. An awkward trio are chasing another guy across busy roads and city streets to a train station. Unfortunately for the trio, the guy they’re chasing disappears onto a train. At this point you’re probably thinking what the hell is going on!

And you’d be right to question. This isn’t your typical action movie. The characters are hilariously strange (almost on a Monty Python level). One of the spies hobbles around on crutches after injuring his leg and the guy they’re chasing always sleeps in closets. Argentine humour I guess?

Even if you’re not sold on the quirky humour, you can still appreciate the great editing. The fast paced feel comes directly from the editing. The camera moves along with runners and has a lot of moving close-ups which both reminded me (and might remind you) or the Oscar winning Birdman.

Conclusion

So if you love simple, quirky action films you’ll love Castro. It kind of reminded me of a mix between Robert Rodriguez’ El Mariachi and Monty Python. It’d fun, fast, and well made (look out for the cinematography).

For more Argentine films check out:

 

 

This is an Argentinian take of the ‘grumpy old man facing an unwanted situation that forces him to open up his heart’ story. In this case, it’s a old man entering retirement as a widow who wants to be left alone. However, his housekeeper disappears leaving him to look after her young son.

He faces a lot of opposition from his daughter in his choice to take care of the kid on behalf of his housekeeper. The way he spoils him makes his daughter jealous – he’s being the dad she didn’t get have because he was so obsessed with work. As per convention, the grumpy old man learns to love the young boy and opens himself up to learn to love his daughter again.

It’s a heartwarming film about retirement and life as an old widow. Perfect if you don’t want to think much. However, if you’re looking for something more than a film about grumpy old man that is forced to open his heart, you’ll probably be disappointed. The tropes are mostly obvious and expected. And when they’re not, they feel out of place and manipulative – such as the mum going into labour at the kids school (giving Rodolfo an opportunity to show his caring side to his daughter). It’s careful not to tread new territory. Although to be fair, this mid-range silver cinema fare is being budgeted out of Hollywood cinema these days.


Head to our Santa Barbara International Film Festival Hub for more reviews from the Santa Barbara International Film Festival 2020.

The Intruder

The Intruder does a lot in the opening 15 minutes. It develops the character of Ines rapidly to set the tone for the rest of the movie. We see that she works as a voice actor helping to dub foreign movies and is a part time chorister. We also find out that she has a lot of nightmares and is terrified of a lot of things such as planes and bats. There’s also her annoying boyfriend who helps to define her as the more grounded and normal of the two. All of this is crammed into the opening without feeling rushed, so when a catastrophe happens, we’re already familiar with Ines and her world.

This opening gives us a grasp of what’s normal for Ines. So, after her traumatic event, we can see that her life seemingly returns to normal. She’s back in the recording studio doing dub tracks and she’s back singing with her choir. The only things that change are her voice and a rise in the number of her dreams. But neither thing feels that alarming or unusual at first. Plus, it’s at this point that her mum shows up to help her recover from her trauma and a organist appears to rekindle her love life. They both help to enforce the normalcy of Ines’ life by appearing in the mundanity of it. But something just doesn’t feel quite right. Her life feels a bit like uncanny valley.

The director, Natalia Meta uses Ines’ dreams to establish the dream world as another place that exists beside Ines’ reality. It’s so close to her reality that we slip between the two with ease. The transition between the two worlds are aided by the darkness of Ines’ life. She moves from her dark apartment to the dark studio recording rooms and artificially lit choir hall and is never spotted in daylight. As she’s inside for most of the film, it’s hard to know what time of day it is at any point. As a result, we lose track of time, and with it our hold on reality. It’s hard to pinpoint when she’s dreaming or awake. The darkness facilitates the creation of Ines’ dream world and it’s merging with her everyday reality.


Head to our AFI Fest Hub for more reviews and short films from AFI Fest 2020.

Piedra Sola

Piedra Sola, like Notturno (one of the other films at this year’s AFI Fest), is beautifully shot. Set in the hamlet of Condor in the northern highlands of Argentina, it contains a lot of otherworldly landscapes and local ceremonies that look unusual to foreign eyes.

However, the exceptional images hint at a higher meaning that isn’t really decipherable in the film. For example, there’s the opening shot of a horse with its two front legs tied, hopping over a rocky hill at dawn. It’s a striking image, and beautifully captured in low light conditions, but it’s not clear how it fits into the narrative of Piedra Sola. The horse never reappears and doesn’t have too much of an impact on how we perceive the film, except to create intrigue. That’s not to say the film needs to have a narrative – it doesn’t – however, the scenes don’t feel like they all come together to unlock the mystery that they each contain. It feels more like a collection of sublime images than something complete.

This also comes across in the focus of the film, the lama herder. We see him go travel to a nearby town to sell his wares and get involved in the local festival, but beyond that we don’t have much of an understanding of him. It’s made vaguely aware that his livestock is being attacked by a puma, but it’s never clear if this is imagined, real, or an allegory for something else. His silence and emotionless face don’t give away any of his feelings either way. He is as mysterious as the collection of images that make up Piedra Sola.

His lack of agency also comes across as a bit problematic. Combined with his silence and lack of emotion, it presents another image of the passive Latin American indigenous person. Like Cleo in Roma and Justino in The Fever (two more films directed by non-indigenous directors), things happen to the lama herder that he quietly reacts to. Instead of initiating things himself, he only responds to things around him, which makes him seem a bit characterless.

There’s also the exoticization of the isolated Andean community. The director, Alejandro Telemaco Tarraf beautifully captures the ceremonies and the hamlet, but he also others it. The unique culture is viewed with a gaze that highlights the differences between the highland culture of Argentina from the city culture of Buenos Aires. It makes their culture seem a bit rustic and old fashioned, situating the community as if it exists in another world and time.

If you’re looking for a beautifully shot, esoteric movie set in the remote highlands of Argentina, you’ll love Piedra Sola. However, the mystery in the images and narrative make it hard to access, whilst the exoticization and passivization of the portrayals of the remote community make it hard to love.


Head to our AFI Fest Hub for more reviews and short films from AFI Fest 2020.

The New Girl

Jimena lives day to day in Buenos Aires, scavenging whatever and sleeping wherever she can find. In search of a better life, she smuggles herself on a bus bound for Rio Grande, a small town on the island of Tierra del Fuego in southernmost Argentina. It’s an area known for its manufacturing jobs and it’s also where her estranged half brother, Mariano, lives.

Jimena gives off a quiet meekness. She doesn’t share much with her brother or the locals – least of all her life as a transient in the city. Despite this, she’s welcomed warmly by both her brother, who sets her up with a job at the manufacturing plant he works at, and by her new colleagues, that invite her to work socials. She’s given space to settle in and adapt to her new life.

As the movie flashes through brief moments in Jimena’s first few months in Rio Grande, it’s apparent she’s becoming part of her new community. She connects with her brother’s love interest, bonds with the workers at the union meetings, and starts to help her brother out too. However, her brother, guessing the nature of her previous life starts to implicate her in his own illicit trading business. He knows he holds some power over her whilst she’s living in his apartment and not quite settled in the region. He also knows she relies on him as her only relation. As the economic backdrop kicks in, Jimena has to choose between helping her brother or supporting the union strikes – family or the community.

The New Girl packs a lot into it’s relatively short run time. It quickly provides context for Jimena’s arrival in the remote South of Argentina and her growth and coming of age in Rio Grande, to set up the climax. It highlights the privilege of crime – contrasting her experience stealing out of need vs. her brother’s smuggling to get rich. This, plus the arrival of the union mark the anti-capitalist thread of the movie. The union symbolizes the community and its strength in organization, whereas Mariano’s one-man illegal business represents the flaws and selfishness of unrestricted capitalism.

The New Girl is an engaging coming of age story as well as a protest movie, along the lines of Made in Bangladesh and Salt of the Earth. Not bad for a 79 minute movie.