Bardo

After finishing this film, I sit in an empty theater, reflecting on what I have seen. The essence of this deeply personal message floating just under the surface of the film is complex. What should I think? Or more important, what should I feel?

I can only answer as a man who has lived over 60 years. I witnessed many "shared" moments in the film, images and memories where I look back on my life and either smile or shed a tear.

The beauty in this film lies in its "truth" which to me is the honest self reflection on a life spent. We all only have a certain amount of life to spend. No do overs. So when we all approach the waning moments of our lives, we look back on those little life pleasures, the painful moments, and the regrets we all have.

And the TRUTH of our own individual lives flashes before us all.

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.

From the very first scene of a shadow leaping into the desert air, you know that you are in for something extraordinarily fantastic. At its core it is the fantastically surreal retrospective of fictional Mexican journalist Silverio on the verge of receiving American and Mexican awards for his latest documentary. Every professional and personal interaction he has with family, friends and coworkers is eventually deconstructed as his story adds and peels away layers of humanity.

Much like Forrest Gump, Cinema Paradiso, or even the Little Prince, there is no task or goal to achieve, no plot device or macguffin to chase... it's the nostalgic tale of one man's life experience. It is impossible to convey how effortlessly each scene blends to the next with calculated disregard for the passage of time and the spacial relationships of people and objects. Iñárritu has one-upped Fellini and two-upped Terry Gilliam as every set piece, every camera composition and every performance creates amazing visuals that will stay with you long after you've left the theater.

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.

Bardo is probably the most misunderstood film of 2022, and the most divisive. What surprises me, though, is how much critics dismissed it last year. This is Alejandro Innaritu's first film in 7 years, and he returns by reminding us just how much of a visual magician he is. This is, in my mind, the most gorgeous looking film of 2022. From the first minute, Bardo puts you in a trance. I couldn't keep my eyes off of it. Darius Khondji's work should have earned him an Oscar. Conceptually, Bardo is 8 1/2 by way of Terrence Malik, but all the same, it's Innaritu's stream of consciousness and it feels so devastatingly alive. If there is one criticism to be had, is that maybe this film shouldn't have relied on so much self-flagellation. Silverio seems to be ridiculed by everyone around him, and by the film itself. Was this a way to justify the film's existence? Did Bardo have to criticize itself so that it could be as freewheeling and experimental as it wanted to be? Because honestly, it doesn't have to. Or maybe AGI's just laid all of his thoughts, negative and positive, stark naked here, regardless of whether or not we'd understand it. You could analyze the film to kingdom come, or you could just let it wash over you. I'd rather just do the latter.