The “broken windows theory” links youthful disorder and incivility to subsequent law-breaking and serious crime. But in The Broken Glass Theory (La teoria de los vidrios rotos), everything is comically scaled back to the size of the small, civil country of Uruguay from which it hails. Director Diego “Parker” Fernandez Pujol, whose previous film, Darwin’s Corner (2013) had a similar ironic, stylish touch, here recreates the innocence of country life, reflected in the bright color scheme of a comic strip or picture postcard. He then proceeds to scratch off the varnish, revealing the passions that hide beneath that bucolic front, while subverting the conventions of detective dramas.
As theaters finally reopen after the pandemic, now under control in fully vaccinated Uruguay, audiences have flocked to the cinemas and seem to reward a film that departs from the usual somber themes, providing a ray of hope and some badly needed intelligent entertainment. The film bowed at Brazil’s Gramado film festival where it won the Best Foreign Film and Audience awards. It is Uruguay’s hopeful in the Oscars international film race.
A small rural town is haunted by mysterious fires that destroy the cars of its inhabitants. The hapless hero is Claudio Tapia, a skinny, stubborn insurance investigator sent to identify whether fraud has occurred. Tapia is forced to operate on a low budget and to seek low-tech solutions. He must also overcome the hostility and distrust of burly bullies who demand prompt compensation payments. He is played with a tender touch by Argentinean actor Martin Slipak, persevering through the teasing and put downs of his boss and colleagues. The town rejects him as a “foreigner.” His wife is focused on a fertility treatment and makes additional demands on his stressful schedule. Only his landlady, a heavily pregnant Metallica fan (an understated, funny Veronica Perrotta) provides clues and skimpy words of comfort.
In this universe, the classic high-speed car chase is replaced by slow-moving persecution on bicycles and mopeds; the investigator even walks to the crime scene on foot. The local internet porn is a photo of the neighborhood hairdresser in her bathrobe.
There are other genre-bending references to the Frontier mentality and classic Westerns where the lonely underdog fights against the odds. The criminals are pimpled teenagers, and the arch-villain is an arrogant, wealthy landowner, played with gusto by Brazilian actor Roberto Birindelli whose mane has been dyed a strident blond for the role. He is running for office and is in full campaign mode. His poster proclaims the silly slogan, “Vamos, que vamos” (Go, Let’s Go) while jingles blare out of a van driving around the lazy streets of the town.
Cesar Troncoso, a favorite with Uruguayan and Brazilian audiences, plays the enamored police chief, who is drawn into a love triangle that proves crucial to the classic Capra-style courtroom drama that concludes the film. There’s a dachshund in leopard prints that also provides clues, and the foxy hairdresser is an updated prima donna from Italian cinema. The dream sequences are Coenesque, with a Greek chorus of supporting characters taking turns performing nightmarish but catchy tunes.
The film uses music that borrows from Latin pop songs, delivered in melodramatic tones that contrast with the quiet rural surroundings. Those who still remember the ’70s will recognize the melodious “Latin lover” tunes of Leonardo Favio, Sandro and Raphael. In this anti-thriller, the music punctuates and propels the plot and makes ironic comments on the action. The cars that burn with alarming frequency also hail from the ’70s, but just as we are getting settled into that time frame, someone uses a cell phone or protests against modern-day agrochemicals.
Director: Diego “Parker” Fernandez Pujol
Screenplay: Diego Fernandez Pujol, Rodolfo Santullo
Cast: Martin Slipak, Sergio Birindelli, Cesar Troncoso, Veronica Perrotta, Jorge Temponi, Robert Moré, Josefina Trias, Jenny Galvan
Producers: Micaela Solé, Diego Fernandez Pujol, Aletéia Selonk, Juan Pablo Miller,
Cinematography: Lucio Bonelli
Editing: Pablo Riera
Music: Gonzalo Deniz, performed by Franny Glass
Sound: Raul Rocatelli
Production companies: Parking Films, Cordon Films (Uruguay), Tarea Fina (Argentina), Okna Produções (Brazil),
World sales: Feel Content International Sales
Venue: Oscar submission, Uruguay
In Spanish
82 minutes
