‘Bardo, False Chronicle of a Handful of Truths’ (2022) Review: Cluttered with History and Self-Protestations
Dreams are nothing but random images that are structured in fragments. Alejandro González Iñárritu’s Bardo, False Chronicle of a Handful of Truths (will be referred to as Bardo from this point onwards) constructs its narrative in a surrealist nature, close to how our subconscious plays out our dreams. A semi-biographical movie that follows a renowned Mexican journalist and documentary filmmaker, as he explores the meaning of life and death, and his connections to his native land, history, culture and traditions. A spectacular viewing experience that shows the difference between reality and fiction by exploring the limits of the human condition in a series of questionable events.
Bardo begins with the loss of Silverio Gama’s (Daniel Giménez Cacho) stillborn child, Mateo, whose death follows them around throughout the entire movie. His wife, Lucia, (Griselda Siccliani) walks out of the delivery room with the umbilical cord trailing behind her. Then the movie jumps to a sequence of Silverio at an interview with his frenemy, as he gets humiliated on Mexican television. The host claims that he is too good for his country, referencing the prestigious award he will receive due to his efforts in journalism. Silverio is the first Latin American to win an award at this American association, and his success is being celebrated in Mexico and Los Angeles. In his native homeland, Silverio was a journalist. He left his job and country to be a documentarian, and he found enormous success in his new career path. But Silverio has an existential crisis that leaves him to question his native homeland, identity, and what it means to be a human.
For Iñárritu, it’s a personal film that explores his life and the work that he has built throughout the years. After his success with Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) and The Revenant, which won many awards and received critical acclaim, the director ponders on this experience by creating nostalgic, imaginative sequences of the past. From witnessing the death of Silverio’s child to conversing with his dead father as he shrinks in size, it mixes magical realism and personal success in one’s career. Even when Bardo explores themes of self-identity and belonging in two worlds, Iñárritu knows to not take himself too seriously. In the process of showing his life and career through the perspective of Silverio, the director pokes fun at his self-importance and egotistical nature due to his success. These victories are parallel to Silverio’s award and provide a great juxtaposition that preoccupies Iñárritu’s thoughts.
An interesting aspect of Iñárritu and Silverio’s shared perspectives is that the director himself calls out his privilege and socioeconomic status. Silverio deems himself to be a man who supports his country and the indigenous people of Mexico, but when it comes down to confronting the problems in the system that favours Silverio, he doesn’t know where he stands. In one scene, he fails to defend a maid who is treated badly at a luxury resort and demands to see the manager when the employer doesn’t abide by his rules. In another instance, Silverio doesn’t understand his son, Lorenzo’s (Íker Sánchez Solano), identity crisis, who was raised in Mexico and the United States. He explains to his father that he doesn’t know where he belongs and questions what it means to be Mexican. He also confronts his father that they are “first-class immigrants” who will never understand the suffering of other Mexicans migrating under dangerous circumstances. It’s a gripping scene that touches on the historical catastrophes, in which Silverio finds himself in the grip of an existential crisis — an ongoing theme that plunges deep into the psyche of Iñárritu’s balance of power. Even though Silverio believes his work to be important, there is always an influx of insults and critiques towards it. Just like Silverio, Iñárritu is well aware of this complicated bond between country and identity, from which both the character and the director have distanced themselves for many years.
Bardo is a culmination of Iñárritu’s thoughts with surrealist imagery that explores the historical exploitation of Mexico and the United States. Sometimes, the movie manifests into patriotic symbolism, such as Silverio climbing a mountain of corpses to converse with the Spanish conquistador Hernán Cortés. Then the scene changes and it turns out that the mountain of dead bodies was portrayed by living actors. Here, Iñárritu examines his role as a filmmaker and his willingness to portray the truth, regardless if it meant discussing the harsher topics of history and culture. Iñárritu understands that digging into this part of his career is painful because it is personal and close to his home — the home he had to leave to become a director. It’s an uncomfortable scene, but Iñárritu takes time to express his thoughts and critique himself.
Iñárritu attempts to explore Bardo’s themes of self-importance and his rightful place in both countries; the director takes himself very seriously. Even though the ideas are explored thoroughly, some viewers might find it hard to resonate with the movie’s runtime. The concept of life and death is stretched to almost three hours of Silverio cross-examining his life, career, and identity — a self-indulgent achievement to question everything. It’s an attempt to dig deeper into the themes that form a shallow collection of thoughts that don’t provide clarity and fail to communicate consistently.
Bardo, False Chronicle of a Handful of Truths is currently streaming on Netflix.
