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Excellent but underrated film

An old-fashioned movie made with new-fashioned finesse.

Shot in Salta, director Lucrecia Martel's hometown, nestled in the Argentinian high plains, her debut feature THE SWAMP is a cinematic homage to the place and milieu where she grows up, it is intimate, clammy, misty and torpidity-ridden, an internalized sociological drama that definitely puts her name on the cinematic map. Two households' quotidian lives are interlocked together, Mecha (Borges) is the matriarch of a petit bourgeois family, husband Gregorio (Adjemián), two teenage daughters Verónica (Balcarce) and Momi (Bertolotto) and a younger son Joaquín (Baenas) who has lost his right eye and pending for an operation. Most of them vegetate around in their decrepit countryside estate under the influence of the humid and sweltering weather, a sanguineous accident brings back her eldest son José (Bordeu) for a sojourn and the visits from her working-class cousin Tali (Morán), who is living in the town with her husband Rafael (Valenzuela) and a brood of 4 (or 5?) younger kids, a prominent feature sees Martel unfolds the story in medias res and leaves no explanatory pointers, therefore it is completely left to viewers to piece together the make-ups of the two families (and other backstories) through its meandering and characteristically rowdy narrative, a task this reviewer might not able to cinch in the end.Kit her camera with a slithering but sensibly unobtrusive mobility, Martel unwaveringly levels it to her close-knit characters with clinical observation, often from unorthodox angles, no establishing shots, seldom focuses on the exterior locations or utilizes long shots, the camera is restive but the characters are entrapped and enervated inside their pokey space, mostly on their beds, lazing around, doing nothing, their stalemate is contagious, a metaphor blandly illustrated by a buffalo bogged down helplessly inside a swamp. Day-to-day triviality is given a microscopic examination under Martel's perceptive, score-free orchestration, through which she deftly lays out the chasm between classes and races (Mecha vs. her Amerindian servants), latent lesbianism (Momi's obsession with the young maid Isabel, played by a stolid Andrea López), the connubial strain and sheer contempt, religious sideswipe (through faux-newsreel of Virgin Mary's alleged manifestation) and the quasi-incestuous horseplay between José and Véronica, and pertaining to Martel's female slant, it is him in the state of dishabille for viewers to gaze upon, all integrated organically into this understated but telling drama that excoriates Argentina's pandemic ennui, to the point when its detriment start to tell in the accidental (but presaged) tragedy which brings down the final curtain, it hits less like a wake-up call than the designed vagaries of kismet, a very fine stepping stone from a robust film-maker making a good fist of counterpoising the inexplicable with the pedestrian.

This is a film that has very much divided opinions. First it is about a couple of related families – one is better off than the other and spend the hot Latin summer at their country pile which is crumbling and decaying (read metaphor for Argentinean society). The other live in the semi slum where over crowding and urban want combine to provide a life full of white background noise and encourage an aimlessness which could again be another semi veiled metaphor.The social bias and blatant racism of the haves with the have not 'Indians' is everywhere – the rampant alcoholism and wayward antics of all involved underline the dysfuntionality of a whole World where everyone seems to be too bored, tired or disinterested to even pretend to care any more. And what happens – lots of very little, with a dénouement I actually only saw coming moments before.So is it a good film? Well yes it is as it sets out to use the families to reflect the general malaise that Argentina was going through at the turn of the 21st Century and it does so deftly and with a lot of hidden skill. The direction is excellent as the sheer amount of characters to have interacting would be bewildering for anyone. So as a piece of work it is a high achiever. However, it is also meandering in places, it seems to lack focus and goes off at random tangents and often the actual plot seems to have taken the day off – and that makes for a film that is a strain to keep your attention and interest.I did watch all of it and appreciated it for the most part but I was left slightly dumbstruck at all the rave reviews – especially from critics. This could then be seen as an 'Emperors New Clothes' type thing as in once the band wagon got rolling they all piled on eager to out do each other with grovelling praise. But as I said it has many merits but just they fail to come together to make it a really great film.

this movie is not for morons. it's a bit, you know, slow. It's a bit, you know, weird. It might even make you have to think. The bottom line is, look at your list of favorite films and if, for the most part, they're completely predictable, formulaic and obvious, do not waste your time with La Cienaga. You're just gonna feel annoyed by it. I don't care if you think you're smart (in reference to someone's comment about "even people at Berkley walked out" -- berkley's got its fair share of stagnant dolts, trust me). Be honest with yourself; because this film is pretty merciless, and if you have any weaknesses in comprehension, empathy, openmindedness or imagination, you're gonna feel really bored/uncomfortable watching this. The only fault I have with this film is that it has no sense of humor. But for some reason I don't miss it here. It's a mood piece that doesn't try very hard to please.

La Ciénaga, directed by first-timer Lucrecia Martel, uses a seemingly uneventful series of episodes and an atmospheric sense of impending doom to make a statement about the decadence of the Argentine middle class. The decaying families are portrayed without much sympathy, showing them as racist, uncaring, and self-indulgent.The screen veritably pulsates with life and ugliness. Every frame is filled with children and animals running in and out, dogs barking, everyone talking at the same time, music blaring, and the TV bellowing something about Virgin Mary sightings. It's almost as if the camera is eavesdropping on an intimate family gathering, making the viewer feel like an uninvited guest at a party.The narrative (such as it is) is about two families and their children thrown together at the end of a stifling hot summer, and how everybody bears the marks of carelessness and inattention: scars, burns, bruises. Nothing works in this milieu; the pool is very dirty, one boy has lost one eye, another is afraid of stories about dog-rats, drinking is excessive and accidents result as a consequence. The mother (Mecha) is a drunk who just seems to be waiting for the end to face life in bed for 20 years like her own mother. She makes racist remarks directed toward her servant, yells at her own daughter Momi, (who seems to be infatuated with the servant), and makes vague plans to go to Bolivia to buy school supplies for the kids.La Cienaga is not easy to watch. It is moody, sensual, atmospheric, almost unbearably intimate, with a constant level of anxiety and tension. You can feel the humidity building on your forehead. Danger is always near, and violence seems not just possible but probable. There is an unspoken longing for something, anything good to happen to relieve the emptiness of life. I was reminded of Chekhov and Dostoyevsky. It is almost Bunuelian in its feeling but, unlike Bunuel, it is not dark comedy, just dark.The unspoken backdrop is the recent history of Argentina, an unending nightmare of political violence, social unrest, and fiscal disaster. Only the children give us any hope for the future. It is a compelling picture of class arrogance with an ending as moving as any I've seen. Strongly recommended but bring a lot patience and a de-humidifier.