White On White (2021)

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Direction: Théo Court
Country: Spain

White on White, the sophomore feature from Spanish-born director of Chilean heritage Théo Court, can be described as a neo-western with glowing images but a grim soul. As a strange melancholy surrounds us through impressionistic well-lit interiors and the now snowy, now arid landscape of Tierra Del Fuego, we are drawn into a vortex of darkness whose epicenter is a mysterious, wealthy and unseeable landowner called Mr. Porter. The latter hires a meticulous photographer, Pedro (Alfredo Castro), to take pictures of his future wife, Sara (Esther Vega Perez), who is still a child. She fascinates Pedro in an artistic way (I want to believe) but his intentions are taken as an offense after the first session. The place has limited accessibility and the atmosphere ranges from gloomy to hostile.

With the wedding postponed, Pedro realizes how sad is the life of the ones inhabiting the propriety, where most of them drink to overcome the solitude. The men not only take pleasure in killing the Selk’nam, an indigenous people of the Patagonia region, but also are rewarded for that. Pedro feels trapped and forced to participate in these manhunts, even if he refuses to kill.

To better understand the film’s mood you can consider a crossing between Joseph Conrad’s The Heart of Darkness and Antonio di Benedetto’s Zama. There’s an inescapable sense of trauma and perversion throughout, with a finale that lifts the veil on the ignominious complicity of Pedro, who, betraying his principles, seems to opt for immoral work instead of going crazy. 

The apt performance by Castro (who earned accolades in Pablo Larrain’s Tony Manero, Post Mortem and The Club) and the breathtaking cinematography by José Ángel Alayón help us conquer the languorous pace of the story.

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