Movie Review:
The Violin depicts one family’s tragic struggle against poverty and oppression in Latin America. But the real tragedy is its timelessness and universality – the broken record that is history. Not a film I would recommend to just anyone, but I sure enjoyed it.
You might not get it so clearly until the closing scene, but the overarching theme of The Violin is how popular resistance to government oppression in Latin America is passed down from generation to generation. Or is it how the socio-economic reality of Latin America breeds popular resistance in the past, present and future?
At first glance, Don Plutarco, his son Genaro, and grandson Lucio are ordinary, poor campesinos just struggling to get by. They travel to the nearby town on the weekend and play music on the street for money, yet they’re lucky to earn enough money to pay for their lunch.
But there’s more to all of them than meets the eye. Genaro, the audience learns, is part of the local, clandestine guerilla resistance. His father and son are sympathizers and at times active participants, the former due to his lengthy life experience and the latter by blood. If you know anything about the movie (or Latin America for that matter) going into it, you’re not surprised to learn this, but Francisco Vargas, in his directing debut, cleverly lets you in on this secret through exchanged glances and passed notes.
One day, on their return from the town, instruments in tow, the three encounter a long line of their fellow villagers carrying personal belongings. The military, suspicious the village is a rebel hideout, is ransacking houses, setting them on fire and capturing all men of fighting age. Genaro’s wife and young daughter are missing. He rushes to save them, but on his own with no weapon, he can do nothing. A soldier on the lookout spots him, and Genaro barely escapes with his own life. He later learns his wife and daughter were killed.
With the military now occupying the village, and the guerillas’ stock of ammunition hidden there, Genaro and the other soldiers begin planning an attack. But the old man has a plan of his own.
After convincing a wealthy ranch owner to sell him a mule in exchange for his next harvest, Plutarco heads back to the village. At first, the old man is stopped from entering and taken to the army captain in charge of overseeing the village’s occupation. But the captain enjoys the violin, and orders Plutarco to leave the instrument with him and come back to play for him each day. This is the point in the film when Plutarco begins to steal the show, charming the audience while charming the army captain.
Little by little, Plutarco begins to earn the army captain’s trust. That’s how it appears anyway. Plutarco dismisses the notion that there was any significant rebel presence in the village. He tells the story of how his father woke him at 5:00 am to give him violin lessons. He allows the captain to play the violin. Finally, the captain allows him to check on his crop, and Plutarco takes the opportunity to sneak out the ammunition. But in the end, the army captain will not be played for a fool.
The army captain is the second most powerful character in the film. He’s not one dimensional. He develops a true affection for Plutarco even though he probably new from the very beginning the old man was an adversary. He even approaches musing on the futility of his mission. The viewer might think: in another time or place, he could have been a teacher, a priest or a violinist. He is as much the quintessential figure in Latin American history as Plutarco or Genaro.
Which brings me to my final point, the film is in black and white, which at first disappointed me. It seemed unnecessary, and I thought I was missing out on the colorful beauty of the countryside. But upon further reflection, I think the absence of color adds to the story’s sense of timelessness and universality.
After all, it’s never stated that the story is set in Mexico, though we know that’s where it was filmed. The guerillas never talk about patria or the caudillo (strongman) that needs to be overthrown. The setting is a sort of any-pueblo, Latin America – not a specific country or place. It could have taken place anywhere, it could be happening now and it could happen again.
Tags: 2008, Francisco Vargas, Genaro, La Violín, Latin American film, Mexico, movie, Plutarco, The Violin
