Jauja

Gorgeous cinematography with bright green and blue tones in an unconventional aspect ratio, set in Argentine Patagonia, and having almost no music score (emphasizing natural noises, instead). All those traits make this Danish-Argentine-French-Mexican-German production to be unusual among Westerns. As a matter of fact, its script is even more deviant. While general plot - a mounted armed man searching his daughter in the wild - may be compared to John Ford's The Searchers, the pictoric or symbolic element puts it closer to films such as Jodorovsky's El Topo or Jarmusch's Dead Man, although having no comic relief and being more violent. The script makes no sense in linear narrative terms, and it is open to multiple interpretations as you may notice if you read a wide number of reviews. A Danish family in an Argentine military action in Patagonia directed to killing native people; a supposedly deserter with rumored bizarre habits; an officer who speaks French and thinks about the ball planned by his superiors; a harsh officer who hates Indians, has strong sexual appetite and wants the Danish girl; that teenager evades with a young soldier with no pevious sign that she intended something like that. Nothing fit very well and dialogues lead nowhere. It becomes more obvious when even more surrealistic situations eventualy happen. Indeed, nothing may be taken literally, but there is also no recipe for connnecting the pieces either. What does Viggo Mortensen's character deeply searches? What the desert in the end of the world means for him? What does his daughter represents? What her two latter appearances mean? What those officers and the native Americans symbolize? Many open questions to think about.

I went to see director Lisandro Alonso's 'Jauja' especially because his earlier trilogy blew me away. 'La Libertad' (2001), 'Los Muertos' (2004) and 'Fantasma' (2006) each observe a solitary man – a survivor – roaming through the jungle wordlessly, like a wild animal. (The setting of 'Fantasma' is urban, but can also metaphorically be regarded as a jungle.) A decade later, I am still amazed by the power of those films and by how little they rely on plot, dialogue or props. Alonso's 2008 effort, 'Liverpool', is also minimalist and follows a similar theme, but tells a slightly more specific story.

'Jauja' is more elaborate than any of Alonso's previous work. As in 'Liverpool', there is something like a plot and very limited, but significant dialogue (in Spanish, Danish and French, in this case). A gorgeous, more sophisticated cinematography presents landscapes that bring to mind 19th Century oil paintings. This is a period film that involves realistic costumes and the kind of beautifully crafted tools used by explorers and the military in the 1800s. Also, 'Jauja' features a famous actor, Viggo Mortensen of 'The Lord of the Rings', who co-produced it and co-wrote the musical score. I think this was all a great way for Alonso to try something new and fresh, without giving up his very unique style and aesthetics.

Don't expect a linear, mainstream film or you may be disappointed. This is an art-house Western – a strange, slow-paced ride through the vast, open space of the Argentine Patagonia. It addresses the exhilarating sense of adventure, but also of violence and dread, that one might experience in the hinterland. The story reminds me of Joseph Conrad's 'Heart of Darkness', in that it depicts a struggle between the forces of "civilization" and the primitive, while also drawing a parallel between the wilderness of outdoor nature and our subconscious. (Alonso's film 'Los Muertos', which shows a man travelling along a river, may also have a link to Conrad's short novel.) The film's tempo, surreal situations and the use of places as a reference to states of mind are reminiscent of Tarkovsky's 'Stalker' or 'Solaris'.

We are explained that "Jauja" is a mythical land of abundance, something akin to paradise, whose search in the old days drove many to ruin. Dinesen (Mortensen) aims to establish order in a distant, foreign land, but keeps running into unruly behavior, left and right. It's as if the indomitable spirit of the desert possessed everyone around him and suggested to him – with its dreamy voice, sometimes forcefully, sometimes playfully – that his stubbornly controlling approach towards life is misguided, a lost cause. Perhaps more than in any other film he's made, the director achieves communicating something magical and ethereal, pointing to the deep, enigmatic wisdom that we each hold inside, but are afraid to listen to. The ending may imply that all these characters are, in fact, interconnected, showing different sides of the same stone (much like the "animus" and "anima" in Jungian psychology describe the male and female aspects in every person, for example).

Like Alonso's earlier trilogy, 'Jauja' poetically hints at the magnificence and mystery of human life in God's garden. Its images and sounds seem to come from far, far away, yet somehow feel eerily familiar and close.

After really loving the first Alonso film I saw, 'Los Muertos', I've struggled somewhat with his films I've seen since. For some reason Alonso's dedication to vaguely mythic and very enigmatic storytelling worked great for me in 'Los Muertos' -- creating a deeply disturbing portrait of a man who is leaving prison and returning to his family, perhaps to kill them (or perhaps not).

Jauja is also the familial story of a man on a mythic journey, in this case a Danish Captain in the army, stationed in an unspecific south or central American country that is in the midst of being colonized by the Spanish, with the Danish presence seeming to be one of both rivalry and co- operation. Viggo Mortensen (always excellent) plays the Captain, who has brought his daughter with him (why he would bring her to such a hostile, dangerous and male dominated environment is never made clear). When she runs off with a young soldier, Mortensen's character heads out to find her, and ends up traveling into his own soul, with the lines blurring between real and imagined, reality and surrealism.

The film looks great, and has a lot of striking and memorable moments. But after two viewings, I wasn't sure quite what it was saying, and – worse – I'm not entirely convinced it does either. That said, there are enough things I admire; the odd photography, the many strange and discomforting images and incidents that stick in my head like memories of a bad dream, that I'm willing to forgive it's frustrations. To a point.

If you dare to watch this film be sure not to expect much of a story, rather enjoy the surprising beauty of the Argentinian Pampa and the time the film gives you to look. I guess almost every shot lasts longer than 10 seconds and many run far longer and create a dreamlike atmosphere. At some point it reminded me of a still picture gallery. Not much talking is done either and the dialog is creating more fog then clearance. There is only a very thin storyline but most things remain incomprehensible.

Films like „Gerry" come to mind, or „The Shooting", "The Draughtsman's Contract" or even „Shutter Island". The best approach might be to absorb the images which are often really stunning and don't try to solve the riddle. It seems to be meant as an experience, not as a thesis on what went wrong in this or that person's life. The main character gets deeper and deeper into the desert while everything gets more surreal.

Although all this sounds rather weird and boring, the film has an inner suspense that doesn't let go. Viggo Mortensen plays a man who looses his dignity in the course of the events but he never appears ridiculous which is much to the credit of the actor.

So refreshing to see a film that is not afraid to play around with the conventional idea of linear narrative. An intriguing blend of Tarkovsky, Apocalypse Now, and Bela Tar. It made me want to follow up this director's earlier films. The attention span of many film goers seems to be shrinking fast, judging by the criticisms of the lingering shots which Juaja features. Novels, music and art installations all play with time and space, and film can do the same, in the right hands, as here. Credit to Mortensen for lending his 'name' to a project like this, and for giving such a restrained performance. The real star of Juaja is the landscape, which silently conveys the truth that wild nature will always trump human activity.