The 1985 Trial of the Juntas was a landmark moment in modern Argentine history -the only time in world history where a nation’s democratic government successfully tried its own prior dictatorial government. It received worldwide attention, made national heroes of its leading attorneys, one of whom went on to become the first Prosecutor of the International Criminal Court, and it cemented Argentina’s commitment to its new democracy in the face of the defeated authoritarians. “Never Again” proclaimed the chief prosecutor, which apparently stuck as a kind of slogan in Argentina for decades.
This at least is the narrative as Argentina, 1985 puts it, a fairly solid period legal drama directed by Santiago Mitre that is an intelligent and meticulous, if subliminally propagandic reenactment of the critical episode and testament to Argentina’s democracy. It premiered at Venice back in September before releasing in Argentina later that month and in the wider world subsequently, where it has been greeted with a lot of warmth. And that’s no real surprise. It’s a movie that shines a spotlight on a nation grappling with its own sins, attempting to enact justice for them, and making a statement for a brighter future. There’s a visceral catharsis to that, and it is certainly felt in Argentina, where the film was one of the most successful of the year.
For an Argentine movie it feels unmistakably American, as it borrows a lot in structure and style from that nation’s tradition of legal dramas and biographical pictures alike. The film is centred on two lawyers: seasoned public prosecutor Julio César Strassera (Ricardo DarÃn), chosen explicitly by the government to take up the case against the dictatorship, and Luis Moreno Ocampo (Peter Lanzani), a lawyer assigned his deputy whose famous family were supporters of the regime. Unable to put together a proper team due to public and political pressures -it only being two years since the junta was ousted- they are forced to rely on a collection of young lawyers assembled from universities across the country. And widening their scope as well they seek testimonies from hundreds of victims of military prison camps, all while their own safety and reputations are compromised.
Mitre does a very good job laying out the facts of this case’s history in an engaging way, always doing well to emphasize the dramatic gravitas of it all. He keeps the response of the greater Argentinian populace, fairly divisive at this time, mostly off-screen -represented through disturbing letters or phone calls that accentuate the pressure and moral heft of the task in dramatically compelling ways -though to a level that doesn’t quite illustrate the nuance of where Argentinians were as a people in this moment in time. Still there are snapshots through figures like the government agent come to check on their tactics or Ocampo’s mother, highly critical of his role in the case. Ocampo especially feels like a conduit to the people of Argentina where Strassera is maybe a touch removed -ideological where Ocampo is sentimental. A part of him believes that his family and other dictatorship supporters can be swayed, but the film knows enough to shoot down this naivety. His connections to such people often puts him at odds with Strassera, and the pair have a couple of really intense arguments on the subject and Ocampo’s dedication to the cause.
The movie has a habit of accentuating Strassera and his political bent and behaviour over Ocampo, whom it is still sympathetic towards, yet also a touch judgemental. Strassera is the more passionate advocate, but Ocampo’s background and perspective could have been more richly explored without the movie necessarily giving credence to the embracing of fascists. The real Ocampo is still alive though, and the movie is careful not to besmirch his character in this regard -he’s still presented as a figure ultimately of great admiration. Both actors inhabit their roles really well, each getting ample moments to shine and demonstrate the firmness of their principles. DarÃn, a major star in Argentina, gets the lion’s share of impassioned and triumphant moments though. He delivers the film’s big momentous speech, he spearheads the noble fight, and he even gets a couple instances of grounded tenderness, such as in scenes with Alejandra Flechner as Strassera’s wife, and levity -his humour with his kids and the bit where he flips off the military brass in court are particular standouts.
But for this the movie is generally a solemn affair. Mitre presents uncut and unsanitized some of the testimonies of people, mostly women and those who had been children at the time, recounting the horrors and abuse they suffered in these military camps. The account of Adriana Calvo (Laura Paredes), later a celebrated human rights activist, is particularly disturbing and illuminating. I think it’s worth noting how little ‘lawyering’ Strassera and Ocampo do in these moments, compared to what you would see in an American movie -sure there’s a lot of the tropes in and around the trial, but until the climax the actual court scenes themselves are pretty singularly focused on the witnesses, cutting to the protagonists only for the occasional reaction shot.
That said, like many but the best legal dramas, Argentina, 1985 can be a bit dry in stretches and the movie is too long for its material. Various sequences are paced slowly and it keeps going for an extra twenty or so minutes at the end beyond the climax and the narrative’s emotional endpoint. Some of Mitre’s choices are questionable too, like how he occasionally uses real archive footage to show on TV snippets of other victims and other testimonies, but at the same time will record his actors using an old filter to match them with the aesthetic of the time, prompting you to wonder why they bothered with the old footage in the first place. It’s not like in Beans where it serves a thematic point, they just seems to be incidental reminders that this is a true story. And despite the script making a big deal out of the youth of the legal team and how it represented this crucial shift in the political demographics in Argentina, every one of these characters is underwritten and the movie just forgets about their significance by the end. They even seem superfluous in some ways -Strassera and Ocampo positioned as the only authorities who really matter to the case.
The movie hits all the right notes well though and for some of its flourishes it takes seriously the subject matter. For as much as it may take influence from American legal dramas, it has more in common with Spielberg biographical films like Bridge of Spies and The Post then say the overwritten, disingenuous smart-aleck tendencies of The Trial of the Chicago Seven. That may be why it struck a chord with Academy voters, but beyond that it is an impassioned sharing of a critical moment in its nation’s history. Argentina, 1985 seems made for the world more than Argentina, much as it has been received in its home country. And while its message is deeply motivated out of cultural pride in a “look how far we’ve come, look how thriving our democracy is” sort of way, it also refuses to shy away from the sins of its past the way other nations’ nationalistic art is prone to do. In the end you do share in its victory -much as it is a kind of muted victory that takes place off screen and over several years. If Argentina can punish its demagogues, maybe there’s hope for other countries as well.
Support me on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/JordanBosch
Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/Jordan_D_Bosch
Letterboxd: https://letterboxd.com/jbosch/
Comments
Post a Comment