Bardo, Fausse chronique de quelques vérités

Greetings again from the darkness. Many filmmakers mine their own lives for projects, making their work personal, revealing, and sometimes invasive. It's easy to label these works as narcissistic, and by definition, that would be accurate. However, some of the finest films from our most interesting writer-directors fall into the autobiographical (or semi-autobiographical) category. Examples include Fellini's 8 ½ (1963), Cameron Crowe's ALMOST FAMOUS, and Woody Allen's STARDUST MEMORIES. This time it's Oscar winner Alejandro Inarritu looking inward. Inarritu won his Oscars for THE REVENANT (2015), and his previous nominations include BIRDMAN (2014) and BABEL (2006), and those are in addition to his other standouts: BIUTIFUL (2010), 21 GRAMS (2003), and AMORES PERROS (2000). He's joined on this project by his BIUTIFUL and BIRDMAN co-writer, Nicolas Giacobone.

The film begins with a Terrence Malick-like dream sequence of a man leaping and flying through the desert as his shadow follows below. Next, we see a woman giving birth in a hospital as her husband lends support. Only this time, the mother and doctor agree that the baby didn't want to come out, so they put him "back in." The father is Silverio (Daniel Gimenez Cacho, (BAD EDUCATION 2004, CRONOS 1993), and it's quite obvious he is representing our real-life director, Mr. Inarritu. A few years later we are informed that Silverio, a respected journalist and documentarian, has become the first Mexican selected for a prestigious award in the United States.

Griselda Siciliani plays Lucia, Silverio's wife, and she is integral to his life, yet we witness much of his life outside of their relationship. The film struck me as a metaphysical exercise as an artist turns his lens into selfie mode. It seems as though Inarritu is coming to grips ... and sharing his philosophy with us ... that emotions drive the reality of our truth. Stated another way, truth is an illusion of emotion. Our emotion skews how we view everything. Additionally, he examines (his own) midlife crisis, and the corresponding insecurities, dreams, fantasies, and doubts. And since much of this occurs in his native Mexico, spiritual and cultural aspects enter into what we see, as does the uncertainty of time as an element.

Inarritu and cinematographer Darius Khondji capture some startling imagery, including a sequence on the dance floor, a segment where bodies drop in the street, and a bag of Axolotls being held on the train. Much of the film has a surreal look and feel, but then there are moments that are more emotionally grounded - like the terrific rooftop exchange between Silverio and his friend Luis (Francisco Rubio). In contrast to that heartfelt conversation, there are the moments when Silverio seems to be heard by others without his speaking. "Move your mouth when you speak", he is told ... yet, his thoughts are conveyed.

The use of sound is masterful, and is crucial to numerous scenes. A second watch will allow me to more fully appreciate this aspect. However, at two hours and thirty-nine minutes, Inarritu likely had many thoughts and ideas, and we find ourselves wishing things were a bit tighter on the editing side. Still, while the film may be self-indulgent and ego-driven, it's also spectacular and stunning filmmaking. There are some slyly comedic touches, and the best may when this Netflix production doesn't shy away from taking a jab at its competitor, Amazon.

Cinema is still capable of provoking great surprises. I had low expectations for this film. Even in other Iñarritu's works, I can see some of his "artistic arrogance", so I thought that a markedly surrealist semi-biographical work could only result in an enormous masturbatory exercise that at every corner felt superior to its spectator. It was not the case.

For several minutes I wasn't sure if I was enjoying what I was watching or not, but I was always intrigued. The concept borrows heavily from classics like Fellini 8 ½, but Iñarritu adds high doses of surrealism that demonstrate other influences. Some of these influences can come from very close, with Buñuel at the head. For you to understand what kind of surrealism this is, suffice it to say that the opening scene of the film is that of a birth in which the doctors realize that the baby does not intend to leave and then they do the reverse process of birth so that the baby comes back to where it came from. Of course, this is metaphorical and of course, there is a less comic and much more dramatic explanation for the real events, but you couldn't ask for a more out-of-the-ordinary scene that would immediately alienate anyone who likes works based solely on reality and on a well-defined and classic narrative.

These types of scenes are repeated throughout several episodes of the film - and, perhaps, the lack of connection between them is a negative aspect of the film -, but what at first seems to be just black humour through surrealist expressiveness quickly turns into what are the main themes of the film. This is mainly about finding your identity, so the themes are very personal for Iñarritu - who, incidentally, speaks of this film as something semi-biographical... - and are for many more people. When Silverio (Daniel Cacho), the main character, talks about imposter syndrome, he knows he is talking to artists. When he talks about living between two countries, wanting to feel at home in both, but not feeling at home in either of them, he speaks to the millions of emigrants around the world. When he talks about Amazon buying a Mexican state, he knows what he means about capitalism and corporatism. As he knows when he has a fascinating conversation with a colonizer - yes, from the distant past! - or when he addresses the luxury within the misery in which many live in Mexico or... when he also criticizes North American society and its lack of empathy. All this is done very smartly by Iñarritu. Everything is brutally aggressive, but everything is also done through that layer of a living dream that could make everything easier to swallow.

Still, I don't think this movie is for everyone. It is not. In a film by an artist about an artist - very much about himself - it is not surprising that the Mexican filmmaker has gone overboard here and there, whether in the length of the scenes (and to think that this was already heavily edited and cut after the festivals circuit!) or in some visual exaggerations that seem to be there just for shock effect. In any case, the positives largely outweigh the negatives, with a whole range of good technical arguments to highlight, from fantastic cinematography - brutal open shots, warm colours, a living camera - to a strong and very characteristic score that perfectly fits the tone of the film.

This is a film destined to be misunderstood as are all those who live between two worlds. Living between two countries and two cultures. Living between the real world and the imaginary (artistic). Inãrritu, at times, abuses from a certain pretentiousness in the way he uses surrealism, but in the end, he won me over through unique and original scenes and, above all, through what he has to say and how he says it.

What a terrible shame that BARDO is only gonna be shown on Netflix. Although Netflix produced this year's greatest films, it's a shame that those films will never play on the big screens. So you can imagine how honoured and grateful I was to attend a preview of BARDO with Alejandro G. Inarritu, one of my favourite directors of all time, who came himself and presented his film. You could tell how happy he was to present the film, as it clearly is his most personal and intimate work to date.

I was hoping for the best, but didn't expect too much as the film received quite mixed first reviews from Venice and other previews. That's why I wasn't prepared for the journey Inarritu would take me on for the next three hours. BARDO isn't only easily the best film of the year so far, it was also one of the most beautiful and profound cinematic experiences I've had in my life - that's the reason why I started my review by saying that it's a shame most people will only experience this on their TV. It's really a shame. The images Inarritu and his godlike DoP Darius Khondji produce here are far beyond incredible. The first half hour of the film, I constantly had goosebumps because of the sheer beauty of this film. I often say that I deeply appreciate when a film invents new, unseen images, when the team behind the film almost invent a new cinematic language. They absolutely do here.

The film might feel too long for some, pretentious for others, but it was just the film I was waiting for since a long time, not knowing I was until I've watched it. It was one of these rare films which I didn't ever want to end, and the fact that I knew it was going to run for three hours actually comforted me many times throughout the sublime time I had watching this.

BARDO is undoubtedly Inarritu's most ambitious film yet, this film feels - and is - HUGE. It's an incredible homage to the country Mexico (I've sat through the whole endless credits and he literally only hired Mexicans to work on this film), but moreover, it's one of the most touching and honest films about family. Where in many films depicting family relationships can feel cheesy and superfluous, here it really worked, and moved me in a way no other film did. That is also due to the fact that all actors are nothing less than absolutely outstanding. Led by the revelation of the year, Daniel Giménez Cacho, who plays the role of Silverio and easily carries the very heavy weight of this opus on his shoulders, the film already had a complex character who you could easily identify with. But every actor until the last smallest supporting role was cast perfectly and contributed to this film.

Bardo reads like a poem, as Inarritu speaks in metaphors one more beautiful and thoughtful than the other. It's layered, complex, absurd, dreamlike, moving, breathtakingly beautiful, visionary and ambitious - one of the best films I've seen in my life and a film which will have a place in my heart for a very long time.

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"Bardo works best when it focuses on the dynamics between father, mother, and children regarding immigration and how this drastic life change impacts each member of the family nucleus. Alejandro G. Iñárritu takes advantage of all the awe-inspiring technical elements to build a story worthy of the big screen but lacks tonal consistency and narrative control.

"Historical" recreations with q.b. Surrealism only makes the runtime feel heavier, and if it wasn't for Darius Khondji's superb cinematography along with exceptional set and sound design, this film would have been in trouble.

Fortunately, there's a lot more to be enjoyed than to feel frustrated."

Rating: B.

Bardo is a very interesting film. What I admire most about it is Innaritu's craftsmanship and artistic merit that he was able to foster. However, that is also my main criticism with the film. It's a bit too artsy for its own good. In other words, it is somewhat pretentious. I believe Innaritu didn't even know what he was going for thematically. I'm fine with films having a long runtime. They just have to be paced well. Of course the pacing is not good here. It could have benefited from a shorter runtime. Overall, I thought Bardo was fine, but the unfocused narrative and bad pacing is what really holds it back from being great for me.