While explorations of literal crime families have become somewhat passé
ever since The Sopranos redefined them so well, few come
with the political backdrop or allegorical strength as Pablo Trapero's
Silver Lion award-winner, The
Clan. The fragile hopefulness of Argentina's turn towards democracy
following the military dictatorship's collapse in 1983 serves as the framework
for an unbelievable true gangster story that clearly owes a lot to Martin
Scorsese's Goodfellas stylistically, from its use of
classic rock to the way it balances grim violence with dark humor. These
qualities, along with a mesmerizing lead performance, are what propel the film
beyond Trapero's inability to reconcile his directorial strengths with the
bizarre material at his command.
Through casual eyes the Puccio family, the
titular clan, seems like the model of upper middle class respectability.
Underneath it...well, that's something totally different. Family patriarch
Arquimedes (Guillermo Francella) gives the impression of cool reservation, but
in his chest beats the heart of a sociopath. He had been part of Argentina's
totalitarian government that was embroiled in what it called the "Dirty
War", state-sponsored kidnappings that disappeared thousands. But with the
regime decimated and democracy taking shape, Arquimedes has figured out his
skills can still be put to good use for more personal gain.
Arquimedes recruits his kin into the
family business like a Dad passing down his pizza shop. His son Alex (Peter
Lanzani) is the one we spend the most time with, as he's the one with the
brightest future and seemingly the most to lose by engaging in a life of crime.
A rugby star with long curly locks that would instantly make him a sex symbol,
Alex uses his easy charms and connections to wealthy sports families to find
future targets; sometimes intentionally and other times less so. What's clear
is that in Argentina's shaky financial climate the kidnapping business is
definitely booming.
As the dictator of his own little family,
Arquimedes inspires a culture of willing acceptance to his evil crimes; screams
and wails from his captives, or "guests", can be heard throughout the
home while others, such as Arquimedes' loving wife Epifania (Lili Popovich) go
about their lives like nothing is wrong. Meanwhile, on the outside world
amongst the upper-class community, an air of fear permeates as they all expect
to be the next one taken. Trapero, a serious dramatic filmmaker, creates
an atmosphere of unbelievable terror, underscored by the family's cold detachment
from the heinous acts they're committing.
But things change once Alex realizes just
how psycho his father really is. As people he knows, some even friends, begin
to die, Alex grows disillusioned at the illegal enterprise. However, Trapero
doesn't focus much on this storyline which seems like it should be the
centerpiece. Instead, Alex's seduction back into the family is incredibly
simple and poorly explained, while the icy Arquimedes and his demonic charms
slide to the forefront. It's great in that Francella's performance is riveting
and ranks right up there with some of the best criminal patriarchs ever. But on
the other hand, the movie's central moral conflict is never really dealt with,
much less resolved. As the film tries to paint Alex as a conflicted
Michael Corleone-esque character it doesn't have the foundation to support such
a notion. Also, while Trapero comically contrasts the Puccio's violent crimes
with catchy rock tunes such as "I'm Just a Gigolo" and The Kinks'
"Sunny Afternoon", it doesn't always feel like a natural fit for the
director, whose approach is generally less flashy. That said; he does a
bang-up job cross-cutting timelines, beginning with a frenetic home invasion
that looks like one thing, but turns out to be something completely different
by the movie's end.
Produced by the same people behind Wild Tales, the
Oscar-winning film that so easily made disturbing acts worthy of a good laugh,
it's easy to see where the inspiration for The
Clan's tone comes from. And while it's incredibly effective as a crime
picture and look at Argentina's dubious steps into democracy, the questions it
raises are as casually disregarded as Arquimedes' many victims.
Rating: 3 out of 5
