I expected to see a journey across Colombia's diverse geographical and cultural landscapes...and I was not disappointed. And as a second-language Spanish learner, I wanted to hear authentic Colombian Spanish...and I did. In fact, "The Wind Journeys" is a very well filmed journey across Colombia; I could see it winning an award for best cinematography. But the story about the current owner of the devil's accordion who, after the death of his wife vows to never play again, embarks on a journey to return the instrument to its rightful owner, including the ending, just didn't click for me.
Perhaps the times they are a changing, or maybe I've changed. I think in the 1980s, when I was 30 years younger, full of enthusiasm to travel the world and learn about exotic cultures, reading novels by García Márquez and more hopeful about life in general, I would have liked "The Wind Journeys" a lot more, or I would have just enjoyed watching it without caring if I bought the premise.
The premise of "The Wind Journeys" isn't as ridiculous as that of "Central Station" (another beautifully filmed and culturally-interesting story but which is based on a ludicrous premise). Yet even without the ongoing violence of the drug lords or the 40+ years of the ongoing FARC rebellion simmering in the background, the Colombia we see in "The Wind Journeys" is a violent, cruel, macho place where it's hard for me to have sympathy for anyone...because what good would that do? In spite of the great filming technique, this is not the Colombia of magical realism, this is the Colombia where a bit of hope swims hopelessly in a sea of hopelessness.
Mark Twain wrote that readers of romantic novels should love the good people, hate the bad people, and always be able to tell the two apart. I guess the two protagonists are the "good" guys in a world of "bad" guys, but I just didn't find myself caring deeply about their fates. Having said that, I would recommend this film for my hardcore Southamericanophile friends who want to see the wondrous and horrible beauty of Colombia. But I'm glad I didn't make my wife go with me to see this film at our local art-house theatre. In fact, I may go out and rent "La triste e increíble historia de la cándida Eréndira y su abuela desalmada" to cheer myself up, or maybe I'll put on my favorite Carlos Vives CD. Yeah, that's what I'll do.
