Showing posts with label Lucrecia Martel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lucrecia Martel. Show all posts

Thursday, August 6, 2026

Nuestra Tierra (Our Land)



 














Director Lucrecia Martel


director on the set

Mercedes Sosa













 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NUESTRA TIERRA  (Our Land)                 A-                                                                          aka:  Landmarks                                                                                                                      Argentina  Mexico  France  Netherlands  Denmark  USA  (123 mi)  2025  d: Lucrecia Martel

This film works with our mother tongue and its racist complexities, which prevent many from accessing a vital space.  The language of documents.  The lives of people expelled by papers of dubious value, lives lost in hours of useless procedures.  A historical document is the script of a scene that never existed, but that suits those who sign it.  Here, cinema can be useful.                  —Director Lucrecia Martel

Lucrecia Martel is a largely self-taught queer director who is part of a New Wave of Argentinian filmmakers coming after decades of political and economic crises, including a brutal Dirty War military dictatorship responsible for the disappearance of 30,000 people between 1976 and 1983, which remains prominent in collective memory, opening up new avenues to explore what was previously forbidden.  After gaining acceptance to the country’s only state-sponsored film school, the National School of Film Experimentation and Production (ENERC), with only 30 accepted out of more than a thousand applicants, just as classes were about to begin the school shut down due to lack of funds, leaving her on her own to follow her pursuits, which meant she simply immersed herself into watching and analyzing as many films as possible.  After winning a public script competition, this led to one of her first short films, THE DEAD KING (REY MUERTO) (1995), a feminist western about a woman who escapes her abusive, alcoholic husband with her three children in a small town called Rey Muerto, exhibited in Argentina as part of a larger omnibus film, a collection of short films from all across the country, something that was unprecedented at the time, as it showcased a compilation of new voices.  Since then, Martel has gone on to make four features, LA CIÉNAGA (2001), a masterwork of claustrophobic cinema, THE HOLY GIRL (2004), a coming-of-age psychological drama, THE HEADLESS WOMN (2008), a metaphysical ghost story about Argentina's refusal to acknowledge a widening economic disparity between the middle and lower classes, a trio known as the Salta Trilogy, each having been filmed in her home province and focusing on women and girls who operate outside the social norms, followed by Zama (2017), a period commentary on colonialism and masculinity.  Martel began working on the film in 2010, so if anything ZAMA is the sequel, yet if the extensive credits indicate anything, there was a massive amount of research and more than 400 hours of film to comb through.  Her first feature in eight years, a scathing rebuke to the atrocities of colonialism, past and present, Martel denounces how Argentina has been built on the plunder of indigenous peoples and how history is actually a fiction, a systematic construction of lies meant to conceal and legitimize crimes.  For the director, a country cannot be built on plunder and injustice, where hundreds of years of history have been systematically erased.  The real question this films asks is why do these things happen, as the filmmaker is committed to returning to this indigenous Chuschagasta community what has been stolen from them, their stories and their images, drawn from about 5000 photographs, some, very moving, taken by Javier Chocobar himself, a man at the center of a murder investigation.  Martel is known for her elliptical storytelling, sensory sound design, and hypersensual cinema, with a focus on class and colonial decay, immersing viewers in intimate, humid spaces, leaving out standard exposition for avant-garde techniques, forcing the audience to figure out what is going on.  Martel’s atmospheric films can sometime do the unthinkable and unimaginable as they explore the moral, physical, psychological, and social decay of characters willfully blind to the historical violence and the continuing social costs that pay for their privilege.  Rarely using background music, where the sound design offers a richer meaning, her subtle, minimalist films often take place in her native Salta, Argentina, the province just north of Tucumán, where the hot, sticky environments act as metaphors for social inertia and trapped desire.  It’s important to point out that in Spanish, “Nuestra tierra” means both “our land” and “our Earth,” something that gets lost in the English translation.  This is a film that not only counters the nation’s official history, but is most remarkable in revealing how that truth has been fabricated.

In her first documentary feature, Argentine auteur Lucrecia Martel investigates the 2009 murder of indigenous activist Javier Chocobar, who was shot and killed while defending his community’s land and from being forcibly evicted from their land by a local white landowner Darío Amín, a wealthy rancher and miner and two former police officers, one of whom can be heard on a video recording, “Nobody listens to them in court,” leaving two other community members seriously wounded as well.  Alternating between footage of this controversial, long-delayed (9 years after the incident) trial, which hinges on a shaky cell-phone video, testimonials from Chuschagasta community members who have called the Tucumán Province in northwest Argentina their home for untold generations, and aerial drone footage of the stunning province Chocobar fought to defend.  What’s truly unique about this film is how it not only puts the accused men on trial, with footage of public court testimony, but the entire country of Argentina on trial through extensive research into the thefts of land over centuries, turning bureaucracy into a weapon that entirely sanctions murder of indigenous life, expanding into a searing examination of centuries-old colonial violence, eviction, land exploitation, and cultural erasure that continue to shape Latin America today, essentially turning indigenous communities invisible and wiping them off the map with proclamations that they no longer exist, while then opening up their lands and resources to the highest bidder.  Co-written by Martel and María Alché, who was the star in THE HOLY GIRL, working with historian Milena Acosta, the film poses the question, who really owns the land, which once belonged exclusively to the indigenous until colonialist intruders took the land by force, literally stealing it right out from under them with no legal consequences, as the law typically ignored indigenous rights, where the country never faced investigative scrutiny - - until this film, which starts out as one thing, examining what happened in the killing of a Chuschagasta leader, questioning the evidence and court testimony in this specific case, where at one point, we see Chocobar’s widow pleading, “Is God a witness to all this?”  Martel then broadens that search into an existential question of who really owns the land, as those who claimed to hold the titles obtained them by unscrupulous means, through land auctions by sellers who never actually held them either, an egregious example of state-enabled land theft, premised on the fiction of Terra nullius, or “nobody’s land,” that has justified the colonial invasion of indigenous lands for centuries.  To the Chuschagasta community, no one person owns the land, as it belongs to all of them.  It’s a bit surprising when the actual murder trial begins asking these unanswerable questions, with historians brought in to describe the evolution of bogus titles, while the indigenous communities themselves have lived on that land for as long as they can remember, providing photographs, family memorabilia, and personal accounts of growing up there, where even the native people were unaware they were indigenous.  “We were taught what the books said,” as according to Argentine history, the indigenous peoples, those who were called the “indios (Indians),” disappeared after the Spanish colonization, yet their existence is undeniable, with Martel paying cinematic tribute to people who were systematically erased from history, revealing how the historical fractures of Argentina continue to manifest in the present.  History has been present in all of Martel’s earlier films, all but this one taking place in the northwest Salta region, yet this happened just 300 kilometers from where she lives, where so many have indigenous heritage, but never explored with this degree of investigation that incorporates meticulous historical research.  Since the end of the military dictatorship, the reconstruction of democracy has depended on an ongoing public and political negotiation of just what constitutes history.

Because historians denied the very existence of indigenous peoples, perpetuated by the Church and academics, this opened up avenues to legitimize land appropriation, leading to collusions between landowners and the police, as farmers and developers were allowed to harvest the land, using indigenous workers as unpaid labor, basically stealing their crops and animals, and then charging them for it.  As it turns out, the three men who happened to visit the Chuschagasta community land were land developers there to drive the native community off the land they had been living in for almost 400 years to recover a mining quarry located in the center of their territory.  This is a tactic that had been used for decades, so for generations, this is what indigenous communities faced and were used to, acknowledging that as soon as the developers indicated they just wanted to talk, this was a sign that they would eventually lose something, as they never just wanted to talk.  Implicit in these tactics is the underlying belief that the indigenous have no sovereignty on their land, that white privilege allows them to take what they want.  And on this occasion as well, the day of the murder, this is how the conversation began, yet these three were also the only ones to bring guns and use them, firing nine shots, threatened by the larger crowd that was gathering, though no one, not a single individual, was armed, used force, or actually threatened them in any way, as they simply witnessed what was happening, and took pictures, which was the best way to deal with developers who want to conduct their business in private, out of sight and away from any accountability, where they could simply take what they wanted by force, incident by incident, thoroughly convinced of the righteousness of their cause, and in the inferiority of the native peoples, an example of racism, paternalism, and infantilization.  No legal channels had ever stopped this type of conduct and behavior before, but this murder was different, as there were so many witnesses, even a jagged cellphone video that was presented at trial, allowing the entire world to see for themselves and make their own determination, though once a series of shots was fired, the camera remained fixed on the ground, where all you can hear are screams, heavy breathing, and the chaotic sounds of a physical struggle.  This wider scope, as well as the filming of the trial, and a recreation of the crime scene itself, which drew plenty of publicity, with the police flying their own drones, placed a different kind of pressure on the courts, where “the whole world was watching,” to quote Haskell Wexler’s Medium Cool (1969), so it required that they dig a little deeper in their examination of who really owns the land, and just what constitutes a crime.  Martel deviates from anything resembling standard documentary filmmaking, allowing the Chuschagasta community to speak for themselves, offering a heavily archived rebuttal to the axiom, “history is written by the victors,” creating a visceral space that lets viewers absorb the racist, colonialist complexities of the legal and social systems in Argentina, connecting the past and present.  Opening with NASA space station images of Earth accompanied by the Kyrie from Misa Criolla, composed by Ariel Ramírez and sung by the legendary Argentine folk singer Mercedes Sosa, Mercedes Sosa - Misa Criolla - Kyrie YouTube (5:02), an indigenous woman from Tucumán, and a member of the communist party, forced into exile in Europe after facing censorship, arrests on stage, and severe death threats from the military regime in Argentina.  Martel chose this piece because it represents the Catholic faith embraced by the local indigenous communities, yet sung by a non-believer, and, to an Argentine ear, highlights an indigenous voice, perhaps for the very first time.  By the end of the film, we hear her sing another song about the land, a beautiful homage to the working class, nature, and the dream of justice and peace, Mercedes Sosa - Cuando tenga la tierra HD (Alta Calidad) YouTube (3:38)

This actually recalls a similar languid style of Chilean filmmaker Marcela Said’s The Summer of Flying Fish (El verano de los peces voladores) (2013), where the visualization of the immense landscape is paramount, drawing attention to its vast permanence, where its primordial existence came long before any human beings set foot, creating this elusive realm that is difficult to understand, as it existed in all its glory before any human communities were established.  But once schools, railroads, and newspapers began telling tales, stories were told only from the point of view of the colonial invaders, never from the indigenous people who actually lived there.  To that end, this film is eye-opening, beautifully shot by Ernesto De Carvalho, as it tends to accentuate the land through extensive drone footage sweeping across the mostly untouched hills and valleys, where cows or horses may be seen in their native habitat, yet after a bird smashes into a drone, things suddenly appear upside down, suggesting the truth may be more complex and harder to comprehend than we realize.  This extreme visualization draws viewers into the subject matter, allowing the land itself to become a central character, where the question of “ownership” becomes a touchy subject, as Argentine citizens once legally “owned” slaves from the 16th to the 19th centuries, having brought them across an ocean to their shores to perform most of the heavy work, living in brutally harsh conditions where they had no rights whatsoever, but were routinely punished or shackled for the most minor infringements.  There are no books in school that were told from the point of view of the slaves, as they were not allowed to read or write, so their historical perspective, like the indigenous, was never told.  Earlier this year, Argentina made international news for being one of only three countries (the other two being Israel and the U.S.) to vote against a UN resolution declaring the transatlantic slave trade a crime against humanity (The myth of white Argentina still shapes the nation | Slavery), while in November 2024, Argentina was the only country to vote against a United Nations draft resolution on indigenous rights.  Some from the indigenous communities described the long distances and dangerous river crossings they had to endure just to get to school, where they were continually abused and disrespected and treated like garbage, yet they exhibit no hostile or angry reaction, as they are essentially peaceful and adaptable.  Their input is invaluable in this film, as it exposes an entire culture that has been declared dead and remained invisible for centuries, yet behind these individual stories, which have never been told, there are literally hundreds of thousands of other stories behind them, without which today’s voices would never be heard.  While Argentine President Javier Milei has systematically defunded the INCAA, Argentina's National Institute of Cinema and Audiovisual Arts, as his government is very much against cinema and its new generation of filmmakers, Martel has raised a topic that is absolutely crucial to her provincial region, opening a dialogue with an otherwise silenced indigenous collective memory that is historically marked by plunder, placing in the foreground the social cracks of Argentina.  For Martel, cinema is “a tool of transformation,” where this is a deeply humane documentary posing legal and existential questions that really have no answers, forcing viewers to make their own determinations.  One of the most memorable shots takes place inside a massive Catholic church, where one of the stained glass panels exhibits a shot of God hurling thunderbolts at the presumably “bad” indigenous people, as if by divine order, to make way for the Argentinian heroes.  And while this may not be what anyone would describe as a riveting account, with plenty of meandering along the way, as if getting lost in the questions, this does have a unique and distinct point of view that makes it essential viewing.   

Tuesday, September 24, 2019

Too Late to Die Young (Tarde Para Morir Joven)




Director Dominga Sotomayor















TOO LATE TO DIE YOUNG (Tarde Para Morir Joven)                 B                    
Chile  Brazil  Argentina  Netherlands  Qatar  (110 mi)  2018 d:  Dominga Sotomayor                     Official site

Described by the director as “an invitation to another time,” this memory piece recalls Chilean childhood recollections of a different kind, strewn together in chaotic fashion with little drama to speak of, recreating a mix of hope and fear that accompanied the fall of Pinochet in 1990.  Lest we forget, Pinochet was a ruthless military dictator installed as a puppet leader by the United States following a CIA-led coup d'état in 1973 that surrounded the Presidential Palace with armed troops, removing from power the democratically elected socialist Unidad Popular government of President Salvador Allende (who blew his head off with an AK 47 assault rifle), effectively ending civilian rule, leading Chile into one of its darkest periods.  Pinochet ruled for 17 years via a military junta, rounding up all leftists or socialists, executing thousands, while imprisoning and torturing up to 80,000 more, with as many as 300 criminal charges pending against him for human rights violations, embezzlement, and tax evasion at the time of his death in 2006, having stepped down as President in 1990, remaining Commander-in-Chief for 8 more years and Senator-for-life under a rigged constitution, with many from his regime remaining firmly entrenched in positions of power afterwards, thwarting any hopes of a developing democracy.  Yet 1990 was a time of hope, offering a sliver of light and new possibilities, where everyone was waiting for democracy to start, but it was all an illusion, doused by the lingering shadow of Pinochet’s brutal rule.  The film, however, provides no backstory, remaining silent on the bleak political realities, instead focusing upon a rag tag collective of ten families living on the outskirts of Santiago in the forested foothills of the Andes Mountains.  Perhaps reflective of years with having no say in important matters, this collective can’t agree on anything, specifically whether to buy additional land or pay for the installation of electricity, bickering back and forth about who would pay more, eventually deciding against the idea, preferring to live off the grid in candlelight with no phones connecting them to the outside world.  One of the members of the group is seen either repairing or tapping into an existing water supply, basically taking what they need, offering insight into the collective morality where anything goes in the name of survival.  The kids have a similar mindset, uprooted from their homes, where there is no parental authority, allowing the kids to run free and do what they want, usually ending up bored with nothing to do.  While viewed mostly as middle class and white, no one is seen working or going to school, and they don’t grow their own food, so it’s unclear where money comes from, as people routinely buy cigarettes and alcohol and whatever food they eat, while driving vehicles that make trips into town that require gasoline.  The film simply isn’t concerned with these matters, instead creating an impressionistic mosaic of day-to-day routines, capturing a rhythm of life from a previous time.   

This film established Sotomayor as the first woman to win the Best Directing prize at the Locarno Film Festival, with a jury concluding she “achieved something that most filmmakers struggle to gain throughout their career: an impressive balance between reality of storytelling and inner capture of psychologies and sensibilities.”  Perhaps identifying with Lucrecia Martel and the slow and languorous feel of LA CIÉNAGA (2001), choosing mood and atmosphere over any narrative storyline, the film evolves in a dreamlike manner jumping from one incident to another, freely moving back and forth from kids to adults, often seen just lying around, shooting the breeze, or not doing much of anything, allowing the camera by Into Briones to linger on what’s unspoken, the space between moments, probing the psychological tensions that exist throughout, mostly lying dormant, then erupting at inopportune moments, creating an ambitious yet also confusing look, only rarely singling out individual characters, as it’s about a collective, after all, with adults mostly appearing weak and dysfunctional, creating a divide between old and young, as they’re hardly examples to look up to, with even the youngest kids understanding the adults haven’t a clue what they’re doing.  Out of this chaos comes the sexual maturation of 16-year old Sofia (transgender nonprofessional actress Mariana Hernández transitioning to Demian Hernández, now identifying as a man), already a chain-smoker and something of a rebel, routinely talking back to her father, shown with a Sinéad O’Connor poster next to her bed, viewed as the film’s central focus (or stand-in for the director), tossing aside the childish notions of the puppy dog that follows her around, Lucas (Antar Machado), more of a plaything, while turning her eye on the older Ignacio (Matías Oviedo), who views her in much the same way she sees Lucas, but has a motorcycle to carry her out of there.  Sofia is seen at one point listening intently to old tapes of her mother singing, switching the tapes back and forth in an effort to match her songs with her own personal memories, much like the construction of the film, but her disillusionment is all-consuming, mirroring the failings of her generation, led to believe a change was coming, only to be doused with failure and utter disappointment.  The same thing is experienced by a younger 10-year old girl Carla (Magdalena Tótoro), who loses her dog, last seen in a cloud of dust chasing after her car as they’re driving away, putting up signs around the neighborhood, hoping someone will see him.  When a man reports a sighting, leading her parents into a crime-infested neighborhood home that houses a variety of dogs (allegedly stolen) behind a fence, accepting payment for theirs, only it turns out to look like her dog, but it’s not, never following Carla’s instructions, answering to a different name, causing heartbreak for this poor girl whose life is wrapped around her pet.  Setting the dog free near the end is emblematic, as it never wanted to be there, but the place it called home was no picnic either, suggesting the spirit of freedom is entirely elusive, like a mirage.

The lazy days and nights all lead to a celebrated New Year’s party, a festivity of food and music, with plenty of alcohol, where everyone is expected to perform a song, elevating everyone’s hopes and expectations, especially Sofia, who dreads spending any more time there with her deadbeat father, dreaming of joining her absent mother pursuing a singing career in Santiago, yearning for an escape, telling everyone her mother will show up for the party and whisk her out of there, eagerly anticipating that moment as if it’s the answer to all her dreams.  Of course, that moment never comes.  Still, using generators for power, they string up Christmas lights, set up a stage, and sit around drinking, many adults flat on their ass, with a stream of people entering and exiting the view, which describes the entire picture, as it’s a muddled portrayal of the past, much of it shifted over time, where only certain moments stand out.  One is the downbeat mood of Sophie’s song, her version of Mazzy Star - "Fade Into You" (Official International Video) HD - You YouTube (4:15), a song that wasn’t released until 1994, yet fits the anguished mood of just wanting to lose yourself in someone else.  Here Lucas is searching for Sofia, who is running away with Ignacio into the woods and taking sexual liberties, only to awake afterwards and discover she’s all alone.  During her long walk back, well into the next morning, while the parents are sleeping it off, the kids discover the forest is ablaze, with everyone running to help fight the fire with buckets and tree branches, hoping to beat it into submission, but it has apocalyptic overtones, suggesting something is all coming to an end, perhaps an age of innocence, with adults finally waking up and asserting responsibility, but the damage is enormous, leaving them devastated, left with only a skeleton of their former selves.  The kids jump into the streams and stand in the water, believing they’ll find protection there, while Sofia’s father, noticing she’s disappeared, goes searching for her in the smoky ruins of a desecrated forest.  Her disappointment is so vividly overwhelming that you actually fear what she might do, finding herself beneath a waterfall, immersing herself in the water’s ferocious flow, as if literally disappearing back into nature.  The calm after the storm is unsettling, wondering where this will all lead, as the foundation of their communal encampment has been wiped off the earth, forcing them to find an alternative path.  The film draws comparisons to Lukas Moodysson’s Together (Tillsammans) (2000), another look back on a director’s own autobiographical experience of growing up as a kid in a commune, where a child’s perspective is more wondrous and enthralling, where you’re literally free to do whatever you want, while adults are more anxious and befuddled by it all, wanting to make it work, but constantly running into problems, where whatever was the original motivation to live in a collective changes over time as initial dreams fade into something new, becoming more personal, possibly liberating.  There’s simply no sense of liberation here, viewed more as a fatalistic excursion into the unknown, as the adults are too perplexed by it all, worn out and defeated by the insurmountable ordeal, having little in reserve to draw upon when things go bad, continually making piss poor decisions, abdicating responsibility, as if they never grew up and had to face the world on its own terms, retreating to some euphoric life that never existed, where it’s all over even before it began.