Tag: Benjamín Naishtat

Puan

Posted on by victorfraga

Professor Marcelo Pena (Marcelo Subiotto) teaches at the prestigious Philosophy Faculty of the Buenos Aires University, popularly known as Puan (named after the street and the local metro station). Head Professor Eduardo Caselli dies unexpectedly of a heart attack while jogging, leaving Marcelo scrambling to pick up the pieces and potentially his much coveted position. He is a popular lecturer, passionate and devoted to his profession. But his methods may be slightly obsolete, while his finances may prevent him from providing a dignified existence to his family. In one of the film’s first scene, he sits on baby’s poo and has to walk around covering in faeces. This embarrassing event is symbolic of Marcelo’s broader predicament: he must forge ahead covered in shit.

Much younger, charismatic and good-looking professor Rafael Sujarchuk (Leonardo Sbaraglia) poses a real challenge to Marcelo. He has studied in Frankfurt, speaks German, sings in French, plays the piano and is married to a famous and ultra-beautiful actress. Far more crucially, students flock to his lessons, leaving Marcelo’s classroom virtually empty. He fears that the vaguely cocky yet warm and friendly man could become a far more suitable successor to the late Eduardo, should he apply for the newly available position.

Puan is constructed upon philosophical references, with university lessons and very scholarly conversations providing the backbone to the film structure. Marcelo discusses Heidegger’s “Dasein”, Heraclitus’s “universal flux”, Plato’s musings on death, Socrates, Parmenides, Camus, Hobbes and many others. A little esoteric for outsiders. And also a little soporific. Perhaps for this very reason, Marcelo’s octogenarian private student falls asleep halfway through her lesson. The banalisation of philosophy is one of the movie’s central topics. The same student insists that Marcelo delivers a “philosophy show” on her 85th birthday because the magician could not make it. He reluctantly agrees only because this may be her last such celebration. During the party, he is asked to come up with some “philosophical jokes” or “philosophical singing”, in the movie’s funniest and most cringeworthy scene. Puan mocks the idea that philosophy should be made in o entertainment. It seeks to find humour in the very notion that philosophy and comedy and incompatible. It’s only partly successful, with the story sometimes slipping into puerile platitudes. In a way, the film becomes a victim of its own pursuit for cleverness.

This 111-minute international co-production of five nations (three European and two Latin American) also questions the racist notion that philosophy is Eurocentric. A fellow professor notes to Marcelo that Latin American philosophy is called “thinking” instead. Marcelo retorts that the continent where Argentina is located does not have such a strong philosophy movement. At the end of the film, however, it becomes clear that Latin America has forged a strong connection between philosophy and political militancy, as what started out as lighthearted philosophical comedy morphs into an activist film. While never mentioned by name, the revolutionary teachings of Brazilian philosopher and educator (who proposes thinking as a weapon against political repression) seem to permeate every aspect of the film. The largest country of South America is topically present throughout: police repression, teacher violence, the elitism of philosophy are themes very close to the heart of Brazilians. Posters of Brazilian president Lula are seen a few times: they are a token of the progressive left-wing. And I could almost hear Brazilian composer Caetano Veloso sing: “if you have an incredible idea, then you should write a song, it’s been proven that it’s only possible to philosophise in German” (free translation, from the song “Língua”)

The shadow of obscurantism is never far from Latin America. Two far-right candidates are on the lead as Argentina heads to the polls in a few weeks. Puan reminds viewers of the country’s tragic history of fascist oppression by showcasing a wall covered with images of people gone missing during the violent dictatorship that ruled Argentina from 1976 to 1983, while also inviting viewers to arm themselves with knowledge. The university is one of the last and most sacred bastions of critical freedom, one of the most effective weapons against political deception

Puan premiered in the Official Competition of the 71st San Sebastian International Film Festival, when this piece was originally written. Also showing at the 41st Turin Film Festival:

Rojo

Posted on by victorfraga

The dictatorship that ruled Argentina from 1976 to 1983 resulted in the struggle of the working class from the protection of occidental values, a shady government, and capital gain. A war backed by US right wing reformers serves as the backdrop of Benjamin Naishtat’s latest film, an episodically muted tale of a counsellor, his family, and a methodical detective.

Rojo opens with an extensive master shot of a house being looted; the following scene sets in a restaurant where an altercation between the counsellor, Claudio (played by a phlegmatic Dario Grandinetti) and a mysterious man (Diego Cremonesi) transpires over a table. The mysterious man feels entitled to having the table first because he knows what he wants, as Claudio sits quietly, glaring at the menu indecisively. To refrain from the issue, Claudio surrenders his seat and verbally attacks the mysterious man, provoking a catastrophic series of events testing what slight moral compass the counsellor bares.

Both opening scenes seem unrelated till three months have passed and Claudio becomes involved in a dubious deal for his friend that ensures he’s purchased that exact house. At the centre of this exchange, a detective named Sinclair (Alfredo Castro) flies from Buenos Aires to investigate the disappearance of a client’s brother. Of course, both subplots engulf Claudio, whose involvement with the mysterious man from earlier in the film, becomes more and less clearer regarding the lawyer’s past.

The film makes no attempt at unveiling the Claudio’s past, nor does Naishtat evolve his character in any degree that may seem redeemable. In contrary, most of what is built up to be a tenable fallout is hurriedly concluded. Claudio seems to never change, but reflect at the absurdity of his fortune. His wife, Susana (Andrea Frigerio) and daughter, Paula (Laura Grandinetti) never seem to be fazed by his egocentric nature. The relations surrounding Claudio are realised but never threatened. Rather, the film quietly explores Claudio’s questionable ambition, which more or less, remains vaguely the same.

Naishtat is less concerned in a structural plot and a climax that rewards its viewers with an overall compass. He’s more concerned in creating a hopeful time when even the most muted of venal bureaucrats could learn from the injustices reigned upon the working class. It is neither a pleasant nor conventional framing of what an audience would hope for after enduring the leisured set backs Claudio faces, but it is to the film’s credible power that this, for obvious reasons, mirrors the political agenda of the modern day.

There is even a moment stemming away from the main storyline to deliberately emit a metaphor of imperialism that centres an oiling enterprise and American cowboys trading their own prized antiques as a form of valued treasures once a business deal has been concluded. Then there’s Paula’s boyfriend, Santiago (Rafael Federman), whose insecurities and sexual drive lead to an act that distinguishes a parallel between the drama reflecting Claudio, and the casualties of the repression.

Rojo is Naishtat’s statement on how (in a timeless sense) we’ve accepted fascism and its entrenching influences on a society that inevitably becomes desensitised to the violence and hubris that it benefits from. Visually, this film is both mesmerising and disappointing to look at. For one, many of the establishing long shots (such as the film’s opening shot) mirror Michael Haneke’s “Caché”, and the use of infringing red over an eclipse symbolizes a terror that is opened to many interpretations of its exact meaning. The camera simply lingers, and there’s a good amount of use of the split diopter technique intensifying every exchange Claudio has (used rather remarkably in the opening restaurant scene). And yet, the visuals cannot be fully appreciated because its digital format lessens the radiance that would’ve been fully magnified if shot on film. It sets in 1975, and as period pieces go — film quintessentially enchants such atmospheres that evoke a time.

Rojo is a patient, at times quietly cruel film, and it navigates as a mosaic of a changing society that ultimately stays true to its characters no matter how bleak and unappealing they may model. Indeed a change is coming, and for Claudio, it is not what he’ll do that matters, but what he can live with.

Benjamin Naishtat’s latest film is out in cinemas across the UK on Friday, September 6th (2019). on Mubi on Tuesday, January 10th (2023). Also available on other platforms.