Bardo

Bardo

The term “Bardo” pertains to the Buddhist belief of being in-between; an interim, shifting or liminal condition that comes between demise and rebirth. The name of Alejandro González Iñárritu’s film points towards a particular space in between that storytellers find themselves drawn to: the space between fiction and reality. Fiction is always about some truth; truth designed at shining light on human condition even when it appears most fantastically imaginative.

Reality is far too vast, complicated and uncontainable to be fully contained, even in the most painstaking fly on the wall documentary. “Bardo’s” subtitle reads: “False Chronicle of a Handful of Truths.” Can we say a handful of truths are true? Don’t we talk about telling “the whole truth”? And isn’t fiction supposed to provide a true vantage point that we miss amid all these ‘facts’ around us? This is what Iñárritu is preoccupied with, through his film’s protagonist.

Form corresponds with content in Bardo, which deals with more than one space in between. Firstly, at its heart lies the essential homelessness and eternal yearning associated with immigrants. Iñárritu is Mexican who has chosen to live and work within the United States; therefore it should be noted this marks his first Spanish-language feature in years starring mostly Mexican actors shot with Latin American-style magical realism next door!

Then there’s also an intermediate stage dividing Silverio (played by Daniel Giménez Cacho who delivers such touching performances) making documentaries as well as other real-life writers/directors creating fictional movies.

The first thing that happens in this movie is a baby being born but moments later whispering something to the doctor: he doesn’t want come out because world’s messy. So they put him back inside his mother. Even brand new few seconds old infants are betwixt birth and non-birth. In keeping with the theme of truth vs fiction, that baby represents actual child who lived thirty hours then haunted parents’ memories ever since, never letting go of its little ashes.

As was case with “Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance)”, story here gets told subjectively sometimes fancifully too. At party thrown Mexico to celebrate Silverio winning an award America , there’s fantastic dance number only one dancer appears have heard Bowie song which audience cannot hear. Then Silverio goes into men’s room where he sees his father dead but very reassuring conversation takes place there between two; shrunken down child size is Silverio during this encounter. Beforehand we saw shadow man walking desert who can almost fly but for brief moments soars before feet keep bringing him crashing back onto sand again.

We must parse out what is “real” from what is imagined or symbolic, or decide it doesn’t matter. Every moment bursts with color and charm. Carlos (Hugo Albores), Silverio’s former filmmaking partner who stayed in Mexico and now hosts a live talk show there, did he invite Silverio onto the program only to ask him frank questions that make him feel guilty for leaving? Or did Silverio refuse to appear, resulting in an increasingly pointed and angry confrontation between the two at the party?

Silverio has two children left alive: a sullen American-identifying teenage boy and a just-graduated daughter living in Massachusetts who wants to come back. Are they real or just projections of Silverio’s own ambivalence about his statelessness? Did he really have a run-in with an American immigration officer about whether a green card holding noncitizen can call this country “home”? But we’re too absorbed by the dazzle of the TV studio, by Ximena Lamadrid’s exquisite performance as Silverio’s daughter, to worry much about that.

In one uncomfortable moment, Silverio literally (in his fantasy) takes away the character’s power of speech and leaves him mouthing silent criticism. In another, he becomes part of a scene he’s shooting: A mountain of dead bodies portrayed by living actors. This is Iñárritu examining himself as director; his inability or unwillingness to tell the truth especially when it involves his pain about the home he had to leave behind to become an artist.

Silverio’s son says that when his father is in each country, he criticizes it; when he leaves, he defends it. Both are up for criticism here. A snooty Mexican resort forbids its staff from using the beach. Amazon announces its plan to buy Mexican land along the U.S. border. A friendly U.S ambassador to Mexico urges Silverio to soften his critique of American immigration policy. But Silverio (and Iñárritu) are drawn to both. Iñárritu may think of himself as in between, but this film suggests the more accurate word is “both.”

Watch Bardo For Free On Gomovies.