Las Acacias is in an almost perfect work of art. Within the
confines it sets out for itself it seems flawless. The only problem is the
limitations it places on its ambition.
The film is a road movie and anyone who’s ever been on a
long bus journey, in South America or elsewhere, will quickly find themselves
identifying with its languorous pace. Ruben, an Argentine truck driver, is
taking Jacinta, a Paraguayan mother and her cute baby, Anahi from the border to
Buenos Aires. Ruben is crotchety and lonely. He hasn’t seen his only son in
many years. Gradually, as they make their way South, the mother and her
charismatic baby melt his heart. Nothing remotely unpredictable happens. The
movie resists any temptation to melodrama. On a couple of occasions there’s a
hint that something bad might happen to Anahi, who gives one of the finest baby
performances you’ll ever see. These moments throw out occasional flickers of
dramatic tension, but the narrative quickly steers away from danger, gets back
in the truck, and keeps on moving.
Everything is meticulously observed. Las Acacias is beautifully
acted, understated and filmed with no little skill. Only in its very closing
sequence does the thinness of the material really protrude, as the film aims
for an unnecessarily upbeat ending. The movie has received considerable praise
and featured on the lists of several of Sight and Sounds critics’ best films of
the year.
However, it might perhaps be reasonable to ask whether being
extremely skilful in the use of such a limited palette is really furthering the
cause of Latin American filmmaking. For example: Jacinta is an economic
migrant, presumably subject to some kind of stress which is making her take on
this journey across the continent with her infant child. But the issues of
Paraguayan society remain firmly ensconced in the back story. When she’s asked
about Anahi’s father, she says the child doesn’t have one. Where do Ruben and
Jacinta’s stories sit within the wider political framework of the continent?
(And who, barring cinephiles is going to want to know?) In the end Las Acacias,
in spite of its apparent down-to-earthness, almost has the feel of a Faberge
Egg. Beautifully crafted but of marginal artistic or social relevance.
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