Bardo, False Chronicles of Some Truths, by Alejandro González Iñárritu
Rodrigo Jardon / Netflix
Lejandro González Iñárritu seems determined to no longer tolerate the cynical delicacies that keep the world alive. In Bardo, Falsa Crônica de Umas Verdades, Iñárritu embodies many of the neuroses not only of humanity but of America, the history of the American continent, the fame and misconduct of being an artist in an era of violence directed at the most diverse ways, from the messages that condemn, from the words that kill. El Negro, as he’s known in Hollywood, has five Oscars under his belt and this latest work of his full of all the originality and all the mannerisms the Academy falls in love with looks like it will join that other little golden men from the mexican. With his 13th film, the director tends to open up a little more his shock at the massive ignorance that rules our days, distributed in the most unusual and urgent areas. Combines the bittersweet and nihilistic lyricism of “Biutiful” (2010) with insights into the poverty of art in postmodern societies as uncovered in “Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance)” (2014), and without the experiments to neglect characterize him well, because in “O Regresso” (2015) Iñárritu has no qualms about digging into the unhealed wounds of the United States. There are metaphors about what it means to be a Chicano beyond the domains of the Rio Grande throughout a good portion of the 160minute projection, but this is also a personal story. Silverio Gacho, the bard of the title, is a very strong alter ego of El Negro who even introduced the nickname as a means of selfaffirmation and this is despite the fact that the screenplay by Iñárritu and Nicolás Giacobone adds a legion of characters, Silverio, an impeccable performance by Daniel Giménez Cacho, sums up everything you need to know about El Negro, about life, about his cinema. Of the world and its ugliness, unspeakable yet sweet.