The Solitary Life and Interesting Diet of an Argentine Woodcutter
What is to be learned from the days-in-the-life-of saga 'La Libertad'? Well, that an armadillo apparently doesn't have much fat.
It's an assumption we can make based on the wiry, lean physique of Misael, the protagonist of a picture whose director, Lisandro Alonso, has described it as a blend of fact and fiction. Those with a low tolerance for animal dismemberment should be warned that Misael tosses the tail-flailing mammal on an open fire, cleaning and grilling it the way most of us would a chicken breast.
Don't look for the clause claiming that no animals were harmed during the making of this film, which plays tonight at the New York Film Festival. 'La Libertad' was produced in 'Dolby Digital in selected theaters,' however, so you won't be spared any audio of the scraping of Misael's knife over the armadillo's shell.
'Libertad' is as watchable as any documentary of a skilled practitioner busy at his craft, be it brain surgeon or, in this case, tree trimmer. It takes place in the interior of Argentina, the Pampas, following Misael, the woodcutter, as he chops down trees or trims them.
He cuts quickly and cleanly. And for the first 20 minutes of the 73-minute film, not a word is spoken. We get a loud, jangly burst of electronica over the opening credits. And then, with the exception of whatever comes out of Misael's radio, not another piece of music is heard.
There's not much dialogue, either. Misael converses a little with a trucker who drives him around for a short while as they deliver logs. And during a chunk of that drive, Misael sits in the bed of the truck with a very well-behaved doggie; the pooch doesn't even look up at the camera, let alone bark.
'La Libertad' is even circular: it starts with Misael chewing away wordlessly on a meal and ends with him eating, too. The only difference in the end is flashes of lighting in the distance.
We can assume that the freedom Mr. Alonso alludes to in the title of the terse, demanding 'La Libertad' has its price: desolation and loneliness. Who can tell, though? Maybe that's just what Misael needs. ('Libertad' seems linked to Iranian cinema, with its focus on everyday realism, and to the Iranian director Abbas Kiarostami in particular, though Mr. Alonso said in a news conference that Iranian film wasn't the inspiration for this debut feature.)
The forest in which Misael works is so verdant it looks edible; the cinematography captures the colors with a photographic edge, realistic rather than muted.
Mr. Alonso keeps the camera on his subject for long takes, and it's a movie of a man in action. By the end, we've no more idea of who Misael is than we did at the beginning. It's the purest definition of a human being: he is what he does, and the film succeeds in that way, too. Inscrutable and exterior, it could be the simplest definition ever of pure cinema. The cats at Cahiers du Cinéma would love 'La Libertad.'
A former Cahiers cat, Jean-Luc Godard, waxed rhapsodic about the pleasure he got from the companion piece on this double bill, the short film 'That Old Dream That Moves,' when he saw it at the Cannes International Film Festival last spring. That guaranteed that every aficionado in attendance would dash off to take a peek.
The director Alain Guiraudie's leisurely French language tale (it's subtitled) of the end of an era plays a few games with the audience. It starts with what looks like a pickup; a young man waits expectantly on the street, slyly questioning each fellow who passes his way.
It turns out that he's on the prowl for the manager of the factory that sits in the back of the shot. The plant is closing down, and the questioner is a young machinist brought in to disassemble the manufacturing apparatus.
His quiet presence disrupts the plant's elegiac last days. It's tough to avoid the obvious machine/sexuality metaphors, as the machinist, who is more direct and masculine than any of the others, cruises the timid tease of a manager.
The imagery is clear as a bell, and 'Dream' is very well acted. Mr. Guiraudie has coordinated each scene to fit into his playful commentary on the unraveling of conventional roles of masculinity.
'Dream' is almost preternaturally well organized; it's as if he was out to make the most entertaining monograph on male behavior ever made. (Perhaps it's the well-oiled delivery that Mr. Godard found so enchanting.) 'That Old Dream That Moves' is an apt and urbane -- though slight because of its rigidly worked-out nature -- juxtaposition to the bleak, pastoral directness of 'La Libertad.'
LA LIBERTAD
Written and directed by Lisandro Alonso; in Spanish, with English subtitles; director of photography, Cobi Migliora; edited by Martin Mainoli and Mr. Alonso; music by Juan Montecchia; produced by Hugo Alonso. Running time: 73 minutes. This film is not rated. Shown with Alain Guiraudie's 'That Old Dream That Moves' as the double feature 'Men at Work' tonight at 6 at Alice Tully Hall, at Lincoln Center, 165 West 65th Street, Manhattan, as part of the 39th New York Film Festival.
WITH: Misael Saavedra (Woodcutter), Humberto Estrada (Foreman), Rafael Estrada (Foreman's Son), Omar Didino (Wood Buyer) and Javier Didino (Gas Station Attendant).
Film Festival Review | 'La Libertad'