BARDO, la cronaca falsa di alcune verità

Director Alejandro Iñarritu has reached a point in his career where he gave himself the opportunity to create a film based on his own life and his existential crisis with living between two cities. The city of Los Angeles, and Mexico City which is the one he had to "escape" in order to grow as a person, leaving his loved ones and his origins.

Actor Daniel Gimenez Cacho portrays the image of Iñárritu in a series of events that affected his life. At the same time, the story makes references to a beautiful, corrupted Mexico that the director needed to leave behind because of its cultural and political decadence. It is not a film for everyone, since not only someone who has not seen what Mexico was and has become could notice it, but someone who does not know the director's life could identify with it, given the fact that the movie is all about resemblances to those two.

But the cinematography of the movie itself makes the story worth of telling.

If you want to watch this movie expecting entertainment, you won't enjoy it. But if you are open to see and listen to what the director wants to tell about his personal life and what Mexico means to him, then you will love it.

People will say this movie is pretentious and narcissistic.. but, is it?

If you had the money and the opportunity to film an important part of your life and you want to express the love you feel for your country of origin , would you do it?

Me the writer, I would.

Is the movie perfect? It's not.

Is the movie beautifully done? It is.

Will people like it? It will depend on who's watching.

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.

This movie has one of the weirdest plot structures I've ever seen. It isn't something linear, nor retrospective. It's a circular story, without beginning or end, as its own director said. There are very well represented dream stories that mix and merge with the reality of the film and even with our own reality. There are weird occurrences, but they're not uncomfortable, they're just fun to watch. This is intertwined with some short-lived drama in the plot. There is the story of the loss of a child. There is the shameless account of historical events distorted at convenience. There is the sharp criticism of TV shows and their soulless show business. There is the difficult relationship of a father with his teenage son. The portrait of a nation that emigrates to survive. And all this not even in the middle of the movie!

The script is a very bold move by its director and writer. It can be seen as a mastery developed in reverse criticism from the film's director to the audience watching the film, it can be seen as an ambitious arrogance that wants to boast of its roots despite its problems. In short, there is a lot of material to discuss and analyze.

In its technical details, it bothers me that some sequences are so dark. Sometimes they try to play with the natural light of an environment where such darkness is justified, but I don't think it's the right thing to do for a movie with sequential shots as great as this one.

The practical effects are very good, the performances are good, the interplay between editing and directing is exquisite.

Recommended for a clear mind evening.

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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 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.