As a longtime fan of quirky, visually stunning films that challenge conventional storytelling, I found “Kill the Jockey” to be a delightful ride. The film’s fusion of psychological thriller, comedy, and surrealism, coupled with its campy flair, is right up my alley. Luis Ortega has once again shown his knack for creating a unique cinematic experience that feels reminiscent of Aki Kaurismäki, thanks to the collaboration with Timo Salminen.
In “Kill the Jockey” (originally titled “El Jockey“), Nahuel Pérez Biscayart, known for his role in “BPM“, portrays a distressed jockey whose persona drastically changes post a severe racing accident. This Argentinian production by director Luis Ortega (“El Angel“, “Dromómanos“) graces the screen with rich visuals and a dash of enigmatic allure, making it an intriguing blend of psychological thriller, comedy, and something else entirely. This horse-racing themed film might appeal to those with a penchant for camp, surrealism, or the absurd, but others may find its attempts at charm overly strenuous and the narrative slowing down towards the end.
Ortega’s skillful choice of catchy tunes has been acknowledged previously, and the film “Kill the Jockey,” partially funded by Warner Music Entertainment, maintains this trend with an impressive soundtrack that blends Latin pop, heavy synthesized EDM, local tangos, and original music by Sune Rose Wagner. The vivid color scheme, square 1:85 aspect ratio, and deliberately slow and stiff acting style create an atmosphere reminiscent of Aki Kaurismäki’s work – a fitting comparison given that the cinematographer here is Timo Salminen, a longtime collaborator of the Finnish auteur.
The vintage vibe is strengthened by the way they styled the production and costumes, which mimic styles from the 1950s or ’60s, particularly in the tailoring of the men’s suits and the unique attire the main character wears in many scenes – a long mink coat with delicate bracelet sleeves, and a bandage tightly wrapped around his head that resembles a small, snug hat like a pillbox.
To kick things off, I, as Remo Manfredini (Biscayart), am more often seen in the traditional silks worn by professional equestrians for most of the film’s initial part. However, a dramatic turn awaits when I’m introduced, found drunk in a Buenos Aires bar filled with stoic staff and customers who watch as I’m escorted away by Sirena’s henchmen. This menacing figure, who runs gambling operations in the region, has an unusual accessory – he’s always accompanied by “his” baby, or rather, a collection of infants under a year old. The reasoning behind his constant infant entourage remains unexplored throughout the narrative.
During race preparation, it becomes evident that Remo’s drinking habits are excessive. At one competition, he struggles to even leave the starting gate. The rider of the winning horse is Abril (Úrsula Coberó, known from Money Heist), Remo’s professional adversary yet lover. They commemorate their win with a captivating and unforgettable disco pas de deux that resembles a lively jitterbug. It’s a moment viewers might remember long after the movie ends. We discover later that Abril is pregnant with Remo’s child, though her stoic expression hints at indifference towards his potential involvement in parenthood. In contrast, another racer, Ana (Mariana Di Girolamo), openly expresses her affection for Abril, adding a tender lesbian angle to the narrative.
Despite Remo’s history of mishaps, Sirena persists in having him ride her new prized stallion, Mishima, a beautiful chestnut imported from Japan, in the upcoming major race. In this instance, Remo successfully exits the starting gate. However, moments after taking the lead, he swerves off course and, as seen through the horse’s camera perspective, crashes into a fence, suffering severe injuries (with no further mention of Mishima’s fate). Remo regains consciousness in the hospital with amnesia, initially struggling to utter even his own name. After pilfering a fur coat and another patient’s handbag, he leaves the hospital and wanders the streets of Buenos Aires.
The remainder of the movie unfolds with a series of humorous interactions as Remo transforms into Dolores, using she/her pronouns, and explores her feminine self. This could be an allegory for the flexibility of one’s identity or the delicate nature of contemporary masculinity. However, it may simply be playful. The script, penned by Ortega, Rodolfo Palacios, and Fabián Casas, leans more towards humor than deep analysis or character development. Yet, the appealing cast delivers energetic physical performances, giving the movie a lively feel. Despite its modest length, it maintains a cheerful tone throughout. Ultimately, it gives off an air of a fashion film or some other stylistic branding project – except that the brand here is Ortega’s distinctive and individual perspective.
Read More
Sorry. No data so far.
2024-08-29 23:55