“Argentina 1985”– Top-Notch Historical Courtoom Drama

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Last night I finally watched Santiago Mitre’s Argentina, 1985, and it held me start to finish. Altogether a morally sobering experience, a disturbing history lesson and finally an affirmation of civic decency.

Based on the true story of the Trial of the Juntas, the film focuses on Argentina’s great moral reckoning — the prosecution of several fascist junta bigwigs who, during Argentina’s military dictatorship, had embarked on a campaign to exterminate hardcore leftists like a gardener eliminates crabgrass. An estimated 30,000 Argentinians were “disappeared” by the junta during the late ’70s and early ’80s.

Heroic Buenos Aires prosecutor Julio Strassera, assisted by Luis Moreno Ocampo and a team of young researchers, brought a complex case against the baddies, and put a lot of them (but far from all) in jail, and certainly made a moral statement that resonated worldwide.

I saw Argentina, 1985 with the original Spanish-language dialogue (Amazon streaming idiotically defaults to English dubbing). I still don’t care for the first half-hour (too whimsical and anecdotal and digressive) and I felt increasingly annoyed by the constant cigarette smoking, but this is nonetheless a fact-based, disciplined, well-ordered story of good guys vs. bad guys. Based on the historical record, pic exemplifies how a first-rate, down-to-business research procedural and courtroom drama should operate.

Just before watching it I had been bickering with a smart guy who knows his Latin American history. He had been reminding me that Argentina has a long history of being a bad-news country that believes in white supremacy and racially repressive policies, and for many decades had made life very difficult for native Argentinians and POCs. The finale of Argentina, 1985 doesn’t leave you with this kind of residue at all. It leaves you with a great feeling of humanitarian compassion and decency. So there’s a basic conflict of perceptions.

Here’s a taste of how our discussion had been going prior to watching Mitre’s film…

Latin American history guy to HE or LAHG: “The fact is that Argentina, just like the U.S., committed genocide against its native population, so that today only about 1% of the country is indigenous, and lives in the south, hundreds of miles from Buenos Aires. The country’s black population is also miniscule, about 1%. The majority are European immigrants, primarily from Italy, Spain, Germany and England.

“Of all the countries in Latin America and the Caribbean, only Argentina and Chile (which also did a number on its indigenous population) have an overwhelmingly white population. All the other countries are a mix of black, mixed black and white, mixed white and indigenous, and pure indigenous.”

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Saga of Saddlebags Holden

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The consensus after Joshua Logan’s Picnic opened in December ‘55 was that William Holden, who’d turned 37 the previous April, was too old to play Hal Carter, whom original author William Inge had written as a drifter in his mid to late 20s.

But Holden’s Picnic miscasting would have paled alongside another mismatch that mercifully didn’t happen. The film was Arthur Hiller and Paddy Chayefsky’s The Americanization of Emily (‘64), in which Holden had been cast as dog-robber Charley Madison. He wisely pulled out.

James Garner, who had previously been cast as “Bus,” the role that James Coburn ultimately played, took the Madison role.

Holden would have been at least a decade too old to play Madison, who is supposed to be a youngish, slick-operator type (mid 30s — Garner was 35) and certainly not 40ish and world-weary.

Filming on The Americanization of Emily happened in late ‘63 (a hotel party scene was filmed on 11.22.63) and, I believe, early ‘64. A drinker, Holden was 45 at the time and looked every inch of it. He was even looking a bit haggard and baggy-eyed in The Counterfeit Traitor, which was filmed in ‘61 when Holden was 43.

Remember how over-the-hill, creased and saddle-baggy Holden looked in The Wild Bunch, which was filmed in ‘68?

Which other major roles were filled by actors who were clearly too old to play them? Ben Platt in Dear Evan Hansen doesn’t count — too recent.

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Couldn’t Jettison Dubbed Version

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Last night I finally sat down with Santiago Mitre‘s Argentina 1985, which I’ve been hearing excellent things about. I caught it on Amazon Prime. I naturally wanted to watch the original Spanish-language version, but for whatever reason I could only run the English-dubbed version, which was godawful. I wore out the remote out trying to click on the Argentinian soundtrack but no dice. I’ll figure it out eventually.

Garner’s Seven

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Like everyone else I really and truly liked James Garner, not just as a steady, easygoing actor but as the deep-down, no-bullshit person he seemed to actually be. But I rarely paid attention to his TV work (never caught a single Rockford Files episode), and I seriously admired his performances in only seven films — Joshua Logan‘s Sayonara (’57), William Wyler‘s The Children’s Hour (’61), John Sturges‘ The Great Escape (’63), Arthur Hiller and Paddy Chayefsky‘s The Americanization of Emily (’64 — his peak), John Frankenheimer‘s Grand Prix (’66), Martin Ritt‘s Murphy’s Romance (’85) and Clint Eastwood‘s Space Cowboys (’00).

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Before The Dawn of Woke Pronouns

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…this kind of statement was regarded as rational, sensible, average, unexceptional. If you say anything like this now, you’re an enemy of decency and deserving of a death sentence.

HE understands and accepts that curious pronoun usage is a “thing” among a miniscule percentage of the population, and it’s not worth sweating over. HE’s pronouns are he/him/his…take it or leave it.

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Visually Glorious, Dimensionally Thin

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Right after the first media screening of Avatar 2 I said for the 157th time that you can’t trust fanboys. The only reactions you can trust are those from “grumpy” critics, which is to say discerning types who don’t immediately drop to their knees when confronted with next-level CG.

I wouldn’t call Variety‘s Owen Gleiberman a grump or a grinch, but he’s no easy lay**. His assessment of Avatar 2, therefore, has value.

Key Gleiberman passage: “At its height, it feels exhilarating. But not all the way through. Cameron, in The Way of Water, remains a fleet and exacting classical popcorn storyteller, but oh, the story he’s telling! The script he has co-written is a string of serviceable clichés that give the film the domestic adventure-thriller spine it needs, but not anything more than that.

“The story, in fact, could hardly be more basic. The Sky People, led again by the treacherous Col. Quaritch (Stephen Lang), have now become Avatars themselves, with Quaritch recast as a scowling Na’vi redneck in combat boots and a black crewcut. They’ve arrived in this guise to hunt Jake down. But Jake escapes with his family and hides out with the Metkayina. Quaritch and his goon squad commandeer a hunting ship and eventually track them down. There is a massive confrontation. The end.

“This tale, with its bare-bones dialogue, could easily have served an ambitious Netflix thriller, and could have been told in two hours rather than three. But that’s the point, isn’t it? The Way of Water is braided with sequences that exist almost solely for their sculptured imagistic magic. It’s truly a movie crossed with a virtual-reality theme-park ride. Another way to put it is that it’s a live-action film that casts the spell of an animated fantasy. But though the faces of the Na’vi and the MetKayina are expressive, and the actors make their presence felt, there is almost zero dimensionality to the characters. The dimensionality is all in the images.”

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Physical Effect

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In a forthcoming issue of Total Film Oppenheimer‘s Christopher Nolan is claiming that he and his crackerjack physical effects team “recreated the first nuclear weapon detonation without using CGI.” I’m not 100% certain but I think Stanley Kubrick went the same way for Dr. Strangelove‘s grand musical finale.

A24 Is Afraid of “Disappointment Blvd.”

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Ari Aster‘s Disappointment Blvd. — a very cool, take-it-or-leave-it smarthouse title, one that sticks to your ribs — is no longer being called Disappointment Blvd. The new title, according to A24, is Beau Is Afraid — presumably an allusion to the first name of Joaquin Phoenix‘s main protagonist, “one of the most successful entrepreneurs of all time.”

Beau Is Afraid is obviously a wimpy-sounding title. It was presumably chosen to appeal to Millennial and Zoomer “safeties”, or basically your under-40 lily-livered types who live in various states of perpetual anxiety and have frequently shared concerns online about not feeling safe enough. We’re talking about gentle reed candy-asses with peep-peep pussy voices and squeaky shoes…intimidated types who wear baggy jeans and normcore clothing…this is your target audience for Beau Is Afraid.

In a simultaneous decision, A24 has announced that The Whale it also being retitled. Darren Aronofsky‘s film will now be called Brendan Fraser Isn’t Attending the Golden Globes Because He’s Afraid That Phillip Berk Will Once Again Insert A Finger Into Brendan’s Anus.

Let’s re-title various classic films according to the A24 “safety” aesthetic. Point Blank is now called Walker Is Afraid. Sam Peckinpah‘s The Wild Bunch is now called The Fraidy Cats. John Ford‘s The Searchers will henceforth be called Ethan Is Afraid of the Comanches. The title of Steven Spielberg‘s The Fabelmans is now Sammy Is Afraid of Failing As A Filmmaker (And Has Therefore Decided To Live In His Mother’s Basement). We can play this game all day.

I’m afraid, you’re afraid, we’re all afraid. Jordan Ruimy is afraid. Roger Durling is afraid. Larry Karaszewski and Scott Alexander are afraid that they’ll never write another Ed Wood or The People vs. O.J. Simpson. Sasha Stone is afraid. Each and every day David Poland awakes with fear in his soul. Life is full of terror, anxiety and intimidation.

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Badalamenti Adieu

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Two and a half years ago I was kicked, beaten and spat upon by Stalinist scolds (including Guy Lodge **) for saying that as much as I respect and admire the music of Ennio Morricone, I didn’t regard his film music as truly mountain-peak level (except for his Days of Heaven score). As I have a somewhat similar opinion of the music of Angelo Badalamenti (respectful salute, admiration, David Lynch’s right-hand guy) I’ll just leave it there. The 85 year-old Badalamenti was a brand…touched by the hand.

** “What a brand!”