Empathetic vistas

Right from the beginning, it has to be said that Monos is one of the more visually striking films I've seen recently. From the Colombian highlands to the Amazon basin, you're going to see some impressive vistas which are a perfect contrast to the close-ups of humanity that are also witnessed. Is it more affecting to see the crumbling of a near-child's face when she's been shoved away from her first encounter with human tenderness in who knows how long, than a slice of pristine wilderness in the evening as the sun slides away? Both of those are transitions. Both of them are decent allegories to what's taking place in broad form throughout the film. Both of them can leave you with open ends (where does she go from here?; what happens at night?) The real question becomes: Is it enough to make a film from?

I think the answer, by and large, is "Yes." Film is a visual medium. It's quite possible to tell a story without uttering a word, simply by letting the images and actions on the screen convey everything that needs be "said." Those of you that know my fandom will remember me citing the director's cut of Blade Runner as an excellent example of this, where Ridley Scott had lengthy scenes without dialogue that provided everything that the viewer needed to know to continue his story. The studio, of course, subsequently ruined these by putting in Harrison Ford's voiceover for the theater release. Mel Gibson's Apocalypto is another good example. Director Alejandro Landes definitely pushes Monos in that direction, despite extensive use of dialogue to build the characters of the performers and expand on one of the central themes of the film: the slow dissolution of humanity when removed from society.

Now, let's also clarify up front that this story is essentially Lord of the Flies. The lead characters are teenagers or children and their detachment from society leads to a very simple cult of personality structure to their group organization. In fact, they doubled down on that Lord of the Flies comparison when the head of a pig ends up staked near one of the group that is being punished for snitching. They've been sequestered in a wilderness location because they're functioning as guards for an American prisoner whom they call 'Doctora' (Julianne Nicholson) at the behest of The Organization; a political/criminal faction of some kind that could be using typical hostage tactics to protect their interests or could be using her as leverage for some kind of goal. That's never revealed in the film and is largely unimportant, as the central element of the plot is observing how rules, norms, and relationships are established and maintained, not only among people separated from the typical parameters of society (laws), but also from any older people to guide them, with the exception of the occasional visits from the Messenger (Wilson Salazar) who merely urges them to greater zeal on the part of the Organization and self-recriminatory group judgments ("shaming") to keep them from going too far outside the boundaries of what the main faction wants from its soldiers. In that respect, it's easy to become sympathetic to the main characters, despite their increasing ruthlessness, because the Messenger is perfectly aware that he's shaping weapons and his occasional visits are merely to ensure that those loose cannons don't turn on their forgers...

What further complicates personal matters among the characters, but only enhances the emotional appeal to the audience, is that these teenagers are developing as teenagers do and start making stronger physical connections among themselves (and probably because it's pretty boring sitting in the jungle, watching a prisoner.) Landes rather skillfully uses the primary expression of sex as both the very commonplace activity that it is and the wholly human bond that it is, while remaining restrained on the visual depictions, given that the subjects of the film are young enough to send some viewers into a Helen Lovejoy spasm. It's sex as an essential part of the story of life, rather than basic titillation or because a "love interest" (ugh) has been written into the script to fit the expectations of the typical audience.

The fact that so much about the plot is left to mystery is another genuinely appealing aspect to it. Landes begins with what I usually call the "Howard Chaykin technique"; dropping the audience right into events with no preamble or preparation. We just know that a group of young people with military hardware are holding a woman hostage in the hills and are entrusted with a cow. Go. When Doctora is placed in front of a camera to give the typical message to the outside world via the hostage, we never hear any of the details and she's handed a newspaper with the word "Deforestacion" splattered across the front. Are they a hardcore enviro resistance group? Is that just a cover story for some kind of secession activity? Clearly, holding the cow but being instructed that it must be returned in the future seems to indicate an appeal to the common farmers of their country. But we don't know any of the hard detail because our main characters don't know. The point of the film isn't to deliver a broader plot. It's for the audience to ride along with these kids as their world breaks down around them, completely isolated from the larger world that presumably all of them knew before they signed on (or were drafted into) the Organization. As broad as the vistas are, the film itself is quite personal. Again, that most affecting moment, when Swede (Laura Castrillòn), who is perhaps 15, begins to panic at everything that is happening around her and tries to find comfort in the presence of the only adult and conceivable mother figure, Doctora. Separated from any kind of gentle human contact herself, Doctora at first responds as any caring human would, before realizing that she's showing empathy to one of her jailers, who forced her to participate in the gang-like birthday abuse of one of the other members of the cell. The audience rides along with Doctora in the tumult of her emotions and it should be the point where most would learn to appreciate the story being shown to them, even if it is unconventional.

The flip side to that is the increasing savagery exhibited by the characters, as almost all similar stories and situations tend to descend. It's a frequent thought that survival instinct becomes paramount in all animals and humans are no different. When driven to the limits of rational behavior or when all behavior that doesn't orbit around maintaining one's existence in the world can be dismissed as irrelevant, all empathy drains away. I found myself wondering why Doctora wouldn't have casually buried her stolen machete in the head of a 10-year-old boy out of simple frustration and vengeance. That kind of base operation was mentioned in a book known as The Long Walk, ostensibly about an escape from a Soviet gulag in the 40s. Pushed to the limits of survival, when he and his compatriots reached British India, they found themselves unconsciously reverting to basic habits and fighting anyone who tried to prevent them from, as they saw it, surviving, even while surrounded by people committed to returning them to health, physical and mental. One could imagine similar circumstances for most of the kids in this film when/if they ever returned to society. "Monos", of course, means "monkeys" in Spanish.

Monos is a film that takes a little patience, but there's so much happening on screen that has nothing to do with special effects or complex plotting, but everything to do with basic humanity, that I think it's worthwhile to seek it out wherever you can find it and, for once, be able to just sit back and enjoy something that's both moving and highly intelligent.