Léalo en español
The box in the title that young Mexican teen Hatzin (newcomer Hatzin Navarrete) picks up containing his father’s remains may look like a simple mini-casket, but the emotional baggage that goes with it is far weightier than what’s inside. In the third and final installment of his trilogy ruminating on the concept of the father-figure, Lorenzo Vigas goes beyond the psychosexual longing of his Golden Lion winner From Afar to take a broader view of paternity, focused on Hatzin but designed to resonate throughout Central and South America where a crisis of absenteeism and father-dictators provoke multiple reckonings. Gratifyingly nuanced and anchored by Navarrete’s remarkable presence, The Box will find welcoming couriers to take it beyond its double berths in Venice and Toronto.
Given the intimate nature of the storyline those broader issues aren’t directly apparent, but Vigas keeps expanding beyond the protagonists’ immediate environs with majestic longshots of the barren Chihuahua plains, forcing viewers to consider how this specific coming-of-age/lost father narrative fits within a larger nationwide context in which environment is just one of many factors. What begins as a tale of Hatzin latching onto a man he believes is his father soon encompasses an entire discourse about deceit, violence and the ways a society becomes deformed when paternal figures are either absent or incapable of nurturing.
Hatzin is heard before he’s seen, repeatedly kicking the lower wall of the train toilet as he journeys alone north from Mexico City: though his boyish open face has a striking placidity, the turmoil inside lies just below the surface. He’s come to take possession of the remains of his father Esteban, recently found in an unmarked mass grave. Vigas doesn’t explain when he died or how, but atrocities committed both by gangs and law enforcement are in the news enough to forego belabored explanations. We know Hatzin is in the 7th grade and lives with his grandmother; further background is felt rather than supplied. On the bus back, he sees someone on the street who resembles the father he only vaguely remembers, and he gets out to chase him down. Mario (Hernán Mendoza) tells him he’s mistaken, but Hatzin returns the casket claiming there’s been an error, and with dogged determination inserts himself in this man’s life.
Mario works as a recruiter for the sprawling garment factories sprouting up around the flat landscape, wooing impoverished workers with promises of housing and a warm jacket when the reality is they’re being exploited in a rush to outpace China’s production of cheap goods. Recognizing Hatzin’s intelligence, he takes him on as his assistant, exhibiting an almost paternalistic affection for the boy, confiding in him about his dream of opening a factory of his own.
Mario’s image, until now ambiguous, takes a dark turn when he has Hatzin and his other young assistant Richi (Elián González) join in the violent robbery of a truck full of sewing machines which he sets up in his empty warehouse. Shortly after, he has the two boys help dispose of a body – “it’s better not to know,” Mario replies when asked who it is, but the kid realizes it must be Laura Morales (Dulce Alexa Alfaro), a young worker who complained too much about sweatshop conditions. Though he’s a good boy, Hatzin so wants to be a part of Mario’s life and that of his family – Mario’s pleasant wife (Cristina Zulueta) is pregnant – that he sets aside his understanding of right and wrong in order to protect him.
The Box builds its story subtly, having us accompany Hatzin as he grapples with his need for a male presence, yet the vacuum of genuine paternal support is so pervasive that the boy’s value system is thrown into tilt. For Vigas this springs from something far larger than one father’s absence: workers are exploited without compunction, property is stolen without a second thought, and bodies are dumped in unmarked graves, leaving survivors without the certainty of knowing whether their loved ones are really dead. It’s a society, at least the male half, that’s lost the notion of a shared existence, and because empathy has atrophied to such a degree it’s not something easily instilled in the younger generation.
Vigas is able to maintain a balance between external calm and internal upheaval in great part thanks to the extraordinary performance of newcomer Navarette, a young man whose intelligent, wide-eyed gaze registers everything around him with only the slightest shifts in expression to betray his struggles. Hatzin isn’t simply unused to a male presence, he’s also a stranger to the harshness of the unforgiving Chihuahuan landscape, frequently seen in expertly framed longshots that emphasize how easy it is to get swallowed up, not just in the desert but in a society that fails to safeguard its own. Cinematographer Sergio Armstrong G., best known for his collaborations with Pablo Larrain, effortlessly shifts between that panoramic vastness and Hatzin’s immediate surroundings, keeping the viewer close to a lost young man who very much needs protection.
Director: Lorenzo Vigas
Screenplay: Lorenzo Vigas, Paula Markovitch
Cast: Hatzin Navarrete, Hernán Mendoza, Elián González, Cristina Zulueta, Dulce Alexa Alfaro, Graciela Beltrán
Producers: Lorenzo Vigas, Michel Franco, Jorge Hernández Aldanda.
Executive producers: John Penotti, Miguel Mier, Kilian Kerwin, Michael Hogan, Charles Barthe, Alejandro Nones, Brian Kornreich
Cinematography: Sergio Armstrong G.
Production Designer: Daniela Schneider
Costume designer: Ursula Schneider
Editors: Isabela Monteiro de Castro, Pablo Barbieri
Sound: Waldir Xavier, Raúl Locatelli, Jaime Baksht, Michelle Couttolenc
Production Companies: Teorema (Mexico), SK Global Entertainment (USA), in association with Labodigital (Mexico), with the participation of Whisky.
World sales: The Match Factory
Venue: Venice Film Festival (Competition)
In Spanish
91 minutes
