Monos, 2019.
Directed by Alejandro Landes.
Starring Moisés Arias, Julianne Nicholson, Sofia Buenaventura, Karen Quintero, Julian Giraldo, Laura Castrillón, Deibi Rueda, Paul Cubides, Sneider Castro, Wilson Salazar, and Jorge Román.
SYNOPSIS:
On a faraway mountaintop, eight kids with guns watch over a hostage and a conscripted milk cow.
Colombia’s official entry for the upcoming Academy Awards – the second feature from Alejandro Landes (Porfirio) – is a simple yet evocatively told tale which mines sparse brutality to unforgettably mesmerising effect. You may have seen somewhat similar stories before, but never through a lens like this.
In the non-specific Latin American wilderness, a group of young child soldiers known collectively as the Monos are given two tasks; to hold captive an American engineer (Julianne Nicholson), and to guard a precious milk cow. Largely left to their own devices to carry out their mission, it’s only inevitable that dissension sews its way through their youthful ranks, and tragedy soon follows.
Monos is a film that tap-dances on a tonal razor’s edge for much of its runtime, braced between the self-evident grimness of a movie centered around child soldiers, and the absurdism of the youngsters guarding a cow of all things – one named Shakira, no less. In case the flecks of bizarro comedy weren’t obvious enough, later in the movie there’s an hysterical beat where Nicholson’s engineer conducts a coded radio conversation by answering the question, “Who is the best superhero – Superman, Spider-Man, or Batman?”
And yet despite these gonzo flourishes, the stakes never feel less than palpable, with a frank early warning from the unit’s spectral mentor (Wilson Salazar) concisely explaining the import of keeping the cow alive. That’s to say nothing of the inherent moral quandary of drafting in youngsters to do adults’ work, the specifics of which the film keeps compellingly ambiguous.
This is in many ways a film of two halves – and also where the Full Metal Jacket comparisons begin – with the quieter early portions laying on the character development through meditative, intimate dialogues, and the second throwing said characters into the meat grinder, so-to-speak, amid various chase sequences and moody confrontations evoking the likes of Apocalypse Now and Predator.
It’d also be remiss not to note the inevitable comparisons to Lord of the Flies, which Landes himself is clearly conscious of, staging two sequences which intentionally invoke scenes from William Golding’s novel. By the time a pig head on a stick shows up, however, it does feel a tad overdone for what’s otherwise such a smart and subtle movie.
But more compelling than the mere specifics of character and plot is the almost overwhelming atmosphere Landes has crafted. It is a film that leaks unsettling intensity from its every pore, taking full advantage of its near-otherworldly mountainous Colombian setting, which has apparently never been captured on film before. Jasper Wolf’s eye-watering cinematography milks the airy backdrop for every ounce of its bleak beauty; a mid-film shot of a flare breaking through the cloud line might be one of the most dazzling images captured by any camera anywhere all year.
Phenomenal accompanying sound design meanwhile makes the viewer damn-near feel that mountainside breeze on their cheek, alongside rushing water and bone-rattling gunfire, which is mixed perfectly with another goosebump-raising score from Mica Levi. Levi’s third straight home-run as a composer following her work on Under the Skin and Jackie, her anxious, droning synths lend added nerve and energy to Landes’ uniformly affecting images.
This is all uplifted by a wonderful ensemble cast, even if there are only two actors here audiences are likely to recognise; firstly Julianne Nicholson as the hostage engineer, who is put through quite the wringer here – restrained, abused and forced down raging rivers. Then there’s the intense Moises Arias, who is remarkable as the hot-headed, self-assured Bigfoot around whom the young group basically revolves.
But again, the entire ensemble makes an impact, and are for the most part solidly fleshed out, no matter how long (or how little) they each end up sticking around. In a bold move, it actually isn’t clear who the movie’s true “protagonist” is for the majority, with Landes pinballing between many central characters without ever fully committing to one. It’s only deep into act three where the filmmaker finally makes his smart choice.
Yet even when localised, exposited character development isn’t in strong supply, there are some wonderfully performed markers for what’s going on internally; in one striking sequence, one of the young soldiers points her rifle at Nicholson’s character while at-once cackling and crying. It’s a simple moment easily taken at face value, yet one which clearly says a whole lot more about the ongoing situation.
Part-demented coming-of-age drama, part-intoxicating mini-war epic, Monos deftly strikes a gruelling, visually astonishing note in all of its 102 minutes, marking Alejandro Landes et al. as major talents to watch.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★ ★
Shaun Munro – Follow me on Twitter for more film rambling.
