THE STORY – After 33 years in Italy, a man returns to Argentina to testify against the men who kidnapped and tortured him during the military dictatorship.
THE CAST – Adriano Giannini, Ana Celentano, Verónica Gerez, Olivia Nuss, Adrián Fondari, Paula Cohen, Marcelo Chaparro
THE TEAM – Marco Bechis (Director & Writer), Vijaya Bechis Boll (Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 105 Minutes
The title of this new film from Chilean director/co-writer Marco Bechis is extremely apt, since the filmmaker previously explored the same subject matter in his 1999 film Olympic Garage, which premiered at the Cannes Film Festival. Olympic Garage, one of the most notorious concentration camps during the military dictatorship, is once again at the centre of the film, and the result is a powerful story about survivor’s guilt.
Beginning in Turin, in 2008, the film stars Adriano Giannini as Mariano “Tano” Guerra, a paramedic who is under pressure to return to Buenos Aires, where he is being called upon to testify against the men who kidnapped, imprisoned and tortured him during the military dictatorship in the 1970s. Reluctantly returning for the first time in 33 years, Tano is tormented by flashbacks (Eduardo Hoy plays his younger self), as it’s evident that his experiences during the two years and 46 days of his captivity have left him deeply traumatised.
Meeting his fellow survivors, all of whom are also testifying, also stirs complex emotions in Tano. Tucho (Fabio Ronzano) still harbours hatred for Tano, hinting at the fact that he was a collaborator. Meanwhile, Tano forges a connection with Amalia Mendez (Ana Celentano), who is testifying for the fifth time, and he’s also unsettled by Evelyn (Veronica Guerez), the adult daughter of deceased fellow prisoner Muñeca (Olivia Nuss), who repeatedly asks him to tell her what happened to her mother.
However, Tano receives his biggest shock when he comes face to face with a man known only as Doctor X (Adrian Fondari), his former tormentor, who is brazenly attending the trial as a spectator. As flashbacks gradually reveal the exact nature of their relationship, Tano is forced to confront his past trauma and reckon with the consequences.
This is evidently a deeply personal story for Bechis, who was himself kidnapped and imprisoned during the dictatorship. In the press notes for the film, he elaborates, saying that Mariano’s story is not his story, but it is “born from a wound I know”, adding, “I chose fiction because sometimes it’s the only way to get closer to a truth that memory alone can’t tell”.
Co-written with Vijaya Bechis Boll, Bechis’ superb script expertly withholds the dark details of Tano’s experience, unpeeling them like an onion, as faces and locations trigger new memories and fresh horrors are revealed. To that end, the transition shots between the flashbacks and the present day are impressively handled, thanks to the skilful editing and shot-matching by Jacopo Quadri and Nicolò Tettamanti.
The script is also commendable for the way that it doesn’t feel the need to overstate everything, with Bechis frequently relying on close-ups and Giannini’s haunted facial expressions to convey how deep his trauma goes. Bechis’ use of silence, faces, and locations to evoke Tano’s trauma works well, and the cumulative effect is powerfully emotional.
The concept of survivor’s guilt is fertile territory for filmmakers, but Bechis adds complex layers of guilt and emotion, posing difficult questions. For example, what if the man who was your chief tormentor and abuser was also responsible for saving your life?
This is also a film about bravery and decency, something that’s brought home with a simple line of dialogue when a lawyer tells Tano that he risks becoming a defendant if the judges decide he was a collaborator. That raises the emotional stakes of the film considerably, particularly in light of Tano’s early interactions with Tucho.
The script also touches on several other interesting ideas and themes, notably in a discussion between young Tano and Muñeca, when she says that she believes having children is a social or political act. It’s also filled with telling detail drawn from Bechis’ own experience, such as when Tano shouts his full name during his abduction, evidently something that was drilled into people at the time, so that any potential witnesses could report your disappearance.
Giannini is exceptional in the lead role, skilfully portraying every step of Tano’s tangled emotional journey. He’s also a gifted physical actor, capable of evincing powerful emotion in the audience with just a look in his eyes, or a stumble in the way he walks.
Similarly, Fondari puts in a palpably despicable turn as Doctor X, while Celentano delivers a heartfelt performance as Amalia, who undergoes her own triumph over past trauma, in parallel to Tano. In addition, there’s strong work from Guerez as Evelyn, though her character is arguably underwritten, suggesting some of her scenes ended up on the cutting room floor.
Incidentally, it’s not necessary to have seen Olympic Garage in order to fully appreciate Return to Buenos Aires, although it’s worth noting that some of the characters from the 1999 film make small appearances here, offering a degree of closure in the process.
Ultimately, this is a compelling story that shines a light on one of the darkest political horrors of the twentieth century, clearly illustrating that the psychological fallout still reverberates today. It’s also a deeply personal and remarkably complex examination of the lasting damage inflicted by trauma. Highly recommended.
