Estertor

(Sofia Jallinsky & Basovih Marinaro, Argentina, 2022)

Just as, in Ulrich Seidl’s Rimini (2022), everything leans (very heavily) on the historical allegory of a now-senile father who occasionally betrays the signs of his Nazi past, Estertor places at its dark heart the catatonic figure of a bed-ridden old man, suffering from Alzheimer’s. He’s not remembering or reacting to much these days, but he has an undoubtedly evil stake in the worst part of Argentina’s 20th century history.

A team of so-called carers (beautifully played by the ensemble cast of Verónica Gerez, Cecilia Marani, Sebastián Romero Monachesi and Raquel Ameri) do just about everything but care for this guy: they mock him, shove food in his mouth, paint his nails … And they even allow, for a price, those aggrieved by the man’s past actions to enter his room and abuse him in diverse ways.

The righteousness of retribution: a perennially twisty theme in political cinema of all stripes and periods.

The comedy here is in a higher, more frantic key than in Rimini, stoked by the claustrophobia of the quasi-theatrical space in which almost the entire piece plays out (the film makes a decided virtue of its modest budget and resources, digital cinematography included). The global pandemic era during which the film was made seeps into its every texture. Some crazy sex is not absent. The canons of Good Taste are (in John Waters-style) duly transgressed at regular intervals.

As the general amorality of the situation spreads, the apartment’s inhabitants get progressively more banged-up and bruised – a fine & messy comedy element in the bleakest Blake Edwards tradition (S.O.B., 1981). Avowed influences on the dual directors include Yorgos Lanthimos, Lars von Trier, Todd Solondz and (for the camera style) John Cassavetes.

Estertor (meaning, roughly, “last gasp”) cuts off at the highest point of its catastrophic hysteria. The lights come on and we find ourselves cheering this grand, exhilarating show of bad behaviour.

Jallinsky & Marinaro (this is their second feature after Palestra [2021)] occupy a quite different place in contemporary Argentinian cinema than, variously, the El Pampero collective, Rodrigo Moreno (The Delinquents, 2023) or María Aparicio (the Bill Mousoulis-like Under the Clouds, 2022). They are a directorial duo to keep a close eye on.

© Adrian Martin November 2022 / February 2024