Tomás Gómez Bustillo Captures the Magical and the Real
In the Argentinian farmlands, distant flashes of lightning are sometimes attributed to “wandering souls” in popular mythology. Saints hang on walls, flickering lights seem to speak, and even exaggerated sneezes seem preordained. This is the world in which we find Rita (Mónica Villa): one in which local legend and Catholic canon meet in wild imagination behind stunning natural landscapes, none of it quite enough for our heroes.
Rita sweeps floors in a rural Argentinian church, quiet, misunderstood, and unseen. She gazes at a fading statue behind a sheet and imagines it might be one long lost, a discovery that would hurtle her town, her church, and most importantly herself, into acclaim. The statue Rita discovers is not the one lost, but she gets to work regardless: painting and sawing, transforming the statue into the miracle she mistook it for. Everyone is happy to accept it. The priest wants a miracle to tell the bishop, Rita’s lovable husband Norberto (Horacio Marassi) will happily spur one to soothe his troubled wife, but Rita is most anxious of all to unearth glory.
Chronicles of a Wandering Saint is the first feature from writer/director Tomás Gómez Bustillo, a recent graduate of the American Film Institute in Los Angeles, who crafted the film with his Argentinian childhood in mind. Just as a now Los Angeles native gazes back home, so too do his characters imagine escapes from the Argentinian provinces: old honeymoons, the glory of recognition by a bishop, validation on Facebook, and eternal salvation. Gómez Bustillo has certainly received his share of glory, with the film winning the Adam Yauch Hornblower Award at SXSW as well as the Independent Spirit Awards for Best First Feature, Best First Screenplay, and Best Cinematography.
The phrase “magical realism” has been used countless times to describe Wandering Saint - it’s an accurate catch-all for a film devoted to challenging form and a decent association for a South American tale of the supernatural. And yet, there is no magic in this film more romantic than the way cinematographer Pablo Lozano shoots the beady orange-lit roads and dusty sun-faded church halls. There is “world building” and even satire, but none of it as rich as the humor of judgemental old ladies and teasing husbands. One may come to this film searching for more magic, as Rita does, but realism is where it becomes special.
I’ve avoided writing thus far about the film’s second half, its “magic half” for good reason. The filmmakers themselves requested a degree of secrecy. What I will say is its integration of practical and visual effects are refreshingly singular and admirably understated. It takes the light etching of a quick first half and colors it with striking emotional depth. It is a stronger half, perhaps, but evocative enough to raise its banal opening up with it.
As it may seem, there is a moment which very literally splits the magic and realism of Wandering Saint. It’s a device some will call a gimmick and others will see as the crux of Gómez Bustillo’s formal experimentation. In clefting the film’s content, tone, and affect so cleanly, each piece becomes a stronger and more considered examination of the other. The power of this moment in defining the film (and its almost camplike execution) also ends up defining the way Wandering Saint is thought about, written about, and communicated to those who haven’t seen it. It’s not a gimmick, but it certainly comes to define a great deal more than it would like.
Gómez Bustillo was certainly aware of the potential of this trap, and in a Q&A, he mentioned: “I’m not trying to make the best movie, I’m trying to make a different movie.” Gómez Bustillo is being too humble here; it is this very instinct that elevates Wandering Saint above banal heist comedies or high fantasy. “Difference” leads to big swings and true surprises; “difference” confuses and alienates potential industry collaborators unwilling to bet on newness. “Difference” reveals the magical as grounded and natural, and the natural as peculiarly magical. Trying to make something that was the “best” (read as conventionally successful and understandable here) would have left us a film without its edge or emotion.
Attempt to pigeonhole Chronicles of a Wandering Saint all you like. Mark it by the festival circuit it flourished in. Mark it as magical realism, by first feature freshness, as an arthouse darling. This film will surprise and challenge those labels. That’s the beauty of thinking differently.
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