Although there are moments of pretentiousness in its couple of minutes that may cause a quick deride, “Bardo: False Chronicle of a Handful of Truths” is Alejandro González Iñárritu’s best and most emotionally moving feature since his directorial debut, “Amores Perros.” He puts his heart and intellect into the screen by providing an often-surrealistic personal epic of fractured identities, insecurities, vanity, and the existential crisis of leaving and returning home. He channels his inner Fellini to deliver his own “8½” and “Amarcord.”
My relationship with Alejandro González Iñárritu’s work is quite rocky, one that most people don’t have. I loved his directorial debut, “Amores Perros,” a film that intertwined a couple of people via a car crash. It dwelled on exploitation without being degrading or overly violent, and upheld its cinematic traits and thematic resolutions. It was a great beginning to the career of a man who seemed to have cracked his directorial vision from the get-go.
‘Bardo’ Marks Iñárritu’s Triumphant Return
However, since that feature, he has focused on being self-important and preaching to the converted rather than presenting something interesting for a change. His follow-up, “21 Grams,” tries to do the same thing of connecting a bunch of people via a tragedy, but it lacks the explosive and gritty nature that “Amores Perros” had. Each feature after that tested my patience and disappointed me even more: “Babel,” the Best Picture-winning “Birdman,” “The Revenant,” and “Biutiful” all left me with a big question in my head: What happened to Alejandro González Iñárritu?
For me, he lost his touch, despite many having loved what he has done throughout his filmography. His works are acclaimed, and he became an Academy darling. Yet, I have felt that his features have lacked the intellect and pounding heart of the work that made his name. When I thought all hope was lost for me to like one of his films again, Iñárritu arrived with “Bardo.” With a catchy title, I would have imagined something similar to what he did on “Birdman” (or “The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance”)—a meta take on the film industry of today or at least something in the same realm.
Yet, he is not known for replaying his greatest hits, at least thematically. Nonetheless, Iñárritu has surprised me to the highest degree with this latest work, which I consider his best one since his debut. It ends up being a project in which the man himself dwells in the depths of his psyche (insecurities, complacence, fractured individualism, existential angst), and heart (heartaches caused by the hauntings from the past) to reflect on what makes him human and what shapes his persona.
Exploring Life & Death (and Love and Sadness)
Not only is the film moving in a plethora of ways—as well as containing a relatability factor for a lot of us Latinos—but Iñárritu crafts it meticulously with some hefty panache. It is shot mesmerizingly by cinematographer Darius Khondji, containing cinematic virtues that I have never seen in Iñárritu’s work. Sure, it may include some dashes of pretentiousness that have annoyed me in his past features, though this time, it is justified.
The pretentiousness in “Bardo” makes sure that the self-analysis cuts deeper and sways your emotions from left to right. Its title, “Bardo,” comes from a term that most of us do not know about, yet, somehow, we have experienced it. In some schools of Buddhism, the term (also known as antarābhava) refers to the state between life and death—the transitional or liminal spot that lies within cessation and rebirth. The consciousness of the deceased can still comprehend words spoken on its behalf. This allows the soul to navigate through its stupor and be reborn into a new existence that offers a greater chance of achieving some form of enlightenment.
Iñárritu does indeed explore life and death (love and sadness) in his latest work, the two sides of the same coin that forge our existence. However, it isn’t all about those two aspects. The sensation of being stuck in limbo also refers to that feeling of not belonging anywhere, caused by a severe change in your life—whether it’s caused by moving on from a relationship or to a new country. Nevertheless, these types of changes alter your view of life, causing some moments to feel like a blur or a figment of your imagination.
Iñárritu Channels his Inner Fellini
This is where the surrealistic self-reflection aspect of the film comes from as Iñárritu channels his inner Fellini to deliver a rendition of “8½” and “Amarcord” that tackles the situations that are happening in his life (and the thoughts that wander through his mind) and in Mexican society. “Bardo” begins with a dream sequence, where we only see the shadows of the central figure we will be following for the next two-and-a-half hours floating in the skies through a desert.
We hear the clean wisps of air brushing through the plains to the man’s immediate steps for the giant leap. The scene that follows the man flying through the skies causes a quick deride; it’s an odd scene that catches you off-guard and shows the first slivers of pretentiousness. However, that’s the only scene in which it is bothersome. The rest of the film flows easily as it transitions from reality to fiction at a constant yet calculated switch. You often wonder what is real and what is not, but you’re not alone; the main character is also trying to figure that out as well.
That man is Silverio Gama (Daniel Giménez Cacho, who plays a silhouette of Alejandro González Iñárritu with exact precision and look), an acclaimed Mexican journalist and documentary filmmaker. “Bardo” follows the anxiety-inducing days back home in Mexico with his family as Silverio awaits to accept a ‘Lifetime Achievement’ award in journalism. His mind begins to plunge into self-doubt because of the cultural and geographic disconnect. This has plagued him since he decided to move out of the country and stay in the beautiful and sunny Hollywood hills of Los Angeles.
Nationhood is a Key Theme in ‘Bardo’
Silverio’s relationship with his country is not on its best terms; for the most part, it is strained. All those years living in the United States has cost him a price: relinquishing his touch with his ancestral roots and the people he was once close with. Silverio left because he considered it the best option for his family, his wife Lucía (Griselda Siciliani) and two kids (Íker Sánchez Solano and Ximena Lamadrid).
Nationhood is a key theme in “Bardo,” as the characters in the film explore what “home” means to them and the nostalgic factor that comes with it because of the past (or the possibilities of what could have been). That’s why one-half of this movie is Iñárritu’s interpretation of “Amarcord;” a series of vignettes involving Silverio’s frustration about his family, identity, and culture forms “Bardo’s” structure, but that’s just one part of the story. The rest is a dream within a dream within a dream (and eventual nightmares). All of this captures every thought that has crossed the director’s mind. That’s where the “8½” aspect of it all arrives.
Silverio often reminisces about his first son, Mateo, who died during delivery at the hospital. To this day, the wound of his loss hasn’t healed; it haunts him like a ghost during every moment he lives and the decisions he makes. As the days go by and the ceremony celebrating him and his achievements arise, Silverio’s mind slowly erodes into an amalgamation of fantasies and torments, intertwined with validity and vanity.
Iñárritu Has Given His All Making ‘Bardo’
By doing a whimsical characterization of the mind’s wonders and what makes home a beautiful yet heartbreaking place, the movie’s canvas tends to be quite lengthy yet rich in cinematic texture and filled with honest portrayals. A harrowing scene happens, and it transitions into a funny one, which then culminates as a surrealistic endeavor. This blend of the darkly-hilarious, mystical, and saddened sequences all adds up to an experience that takes the viewer to another realm where time isn’t felt. And, in the grand scheme of things, it emotionally moves the audience more than one would expect coming from such a weird feature, as the absurd comes to terms with the humanistic.
As Iñárritu has often quoted in recent interviews, he has given his all concocting this film. And it is evident. None of his movies have the same play with emotions, like a tug and pull of his own self-identified critiques and sentiments. It isn’t a movie that backs off by the initial hymns of self-importance (the me, me, me pretentiousness).
In the End, a Brilliant Piece of Work
No, “Bardo” justifies its demeanor by tackling talking points that feed your intellect and cement images in your mind that cause you to contemplate your own family, culture, and place of birth. The non-linear narrative might occasionally be tricky to follow. Still, it adds to the cinematic venture of distinctive and mystical exploration of life and loss. It is extremely impressive that the Mexican director could have pulled all of this off (shoutout to the backers of this film). On paper, it seemed like a total mess. But on-screen, it is a film filled with beauty and sadness, all intertwined to create a dream-like venture forged by a man’s love for his homeland.
“Bardo: False Chronicle of a Handful of Truths” is a grand piece of work and one of the most distinctive pieces of cinema to be presented this year. After watching it, images and moments haven’t left my mind; they constantly play as I ponder while writing. It is a testament to how brilliant and effective Alejandro González Iñárritu’s latest work turns out to be. Is this his best work to date? Give me a few rewatches, and I may start thinking about it. (Side Note: I would love to see the original three-hour Venice cut.)
“Bardo: False Chronicle of a Handful of Truths” had a limited theatrical release after premiering at the Venice Film Festival. It will be available to watch exclusively on Netflix starting December 16th.
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