If I’m being completely honest, the film we are covering in this column is exactly the type of work I was looking forward to covering. Let’s face it, there are entire bodies of work from artists that we have heard of, but never bothered or found an avenue to get around to. What does the name Lucrecia Martel mean to you? I’m sure if you asked the general public, you would be met with a chorus of “Who?” And if you ask cinephiles, it would likely be split. You would have those that could give you examples of her work, but then you would have viewers like me. “Oh yeah, her, I’ve heard of her. What did she do again?” If you are in my camp, you can likely be forgiven. Martel has directed just four features in between 2001-2017, but she is well known in auteur circles, especially at numerous film festivals. A few of her films are leaving the Criterion Channel this month, and we will be focusing on her most recent work, Zama.
Given my previous description of Lucrecia Martel, it will likely not surprise you that Zama is not for everyone. It is slow moving, difficult, and takes some real work to access as a viewer. That said, it is also a wonderful film. It follows Don Diego de Zama (Daniel Giménez Cacho), a relatively low ranking Spanish functionary at an outpost in Argentina. It feels foolish to simply provide a plot synopsis, as, especially on first watch, one is overwhelmed by the feel of Zama. Given its setting, in the late 18th century, Martel’s work is admirable, as you almost immediately forget that this is a film set of any kind. She makes the choice to throw you into the middle of this world and not obey a typical screenplay structure. This forces the audience to catch up, which leaves precious little time to slowly acclimate. Because of this, we simply follow Zama from one frustration to the next and soon find that we are essentially lost in his world.
And yet, this is more than a slice of life movie. There is a clear narrative, it just takes a good long time to reveal itself. Looking back on it, the consistent lies about Vicuña Porto are the true focus. All of Zama’s desires to go home, to see his wife and child, to bed the one white woman on the island, these are all secondary. They do not feel secondary because Zama is our protagonist and we feel his desires. But there are many mentions of Vicuña Porto, almost as if he and his men are spirits haunting the colonizers. And every time his existence is denied, whether through statements of his death or his supposed ears taken as a trophy, his presence increases. As the lies grow and the fear of the people refuses to dissipate, it becomes more and more clear that the specter of this rapist and murderer is becoming increasingly real, and dangerous.
It should be noted that, because this is a story of colonizers, there are certainly more rapists and murderers besides Vicuña Porto. But like any story, the perspective matters. This is where Martel truly shines. It is stunningly difficult to create a realistic portrait of slavery without focusing on an uplifting slave narrative, usually through voiceover and triumph. Martel, instead, populates her shots with these men and women, forced into slavery by the Spanish, sometimes purely as background. There is no giant revolt, but there is a pure, realized sorrow that she never shies away from. It is a lesson, teaching us as viewers that we do not need to see the brutalization of bodies, especially brown and black bodies to know that this is inherently wrong and cruel. Among other choices, Martel dresses many of their upper bodies in noble finery, including powdered wigs and coats, but keeps their lower halves only barely covered with cloth. This decision shows us that their place in this society is easily stripped at the slightest indiscretion.
Don Diego de Zama, despite missing his family, lives a relatively comfortable life in this story. And yes, he is subject to the whim of his superiors. He is repeatedly lied to by them and this puts him at risk. However, what truly unravels him is both his temper and his lack of patience. Zama could have lived there for years at almost no risk to his safety. His brawl with another Spaniard leads to him losing a coveted transfer and helps him realize that he has been strung along. After many requests, the governor, begrudgingly agrees to write a letter to the King on his behalf. However, he also mentions that he will follow up with a second letter months later to convince him. This frustration at the bureaucracy inherent in the system leads Zama to a dangerous decision.
And this sequence, after said decision, is where everything comes to fruition. Zama makes all of the wrong choices and, because he wants to stand out to the governor (and indirectly, the King) he puts himself and others in mortal danger. Despite being the titular character, Zama is brutally punished for his crimes, but even without horrific visuals, Martel reminds us that he is a part of a system that has subjugated, enslaved, raped, and murdered others en masse. No one in this system is innocent, we are all implicated.
These movies on The Criterion Channel can be quite difficult, but they are also an opportunity. Every day, and especially every month, is an opportunity to expand our horizons. I can say with almost certainty that without this column, Lucrecia Martel would not have been on my radar. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to watch more of her work. I hope you join me before February ends!
