I honestly like reviewing these movies as they are flawed enough to be review-ab but also competent enough to not be a chore to watch. This one keeps that up and I was really excited to get to it once I finished watching it.
A thing is a thing, not what is said of that thing. But sometimes things change. My own reversal on "Bardo" was certainly drastic enough to induce some hand-wringing and second-guessing, which feels like a fair and honest response to a movie whose hero, Silverio, is an avatar of self-doubt. He is also a husband, a father, a dreamer, an adventurer and a dryly sardonic observer of history, with a mordantly funny perspective on Mexico's past, present and future. His barbed remarks about how little the U.S. paid for the Mexican Cession in 1848 dovetail with some satirical background chatter concerning Amazon's looming acquisition of Baja California. As Iñárritu scarcely needs to remind us, the space where the U.S. and Mexico meet has long been brutally contested terrain. And where he and his tense, anguished alter ego fit into that terrain is the question that continually haunts this story, giving it drive and density even when it slows to a crawl.
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