Jay Rohr
Barrio Triste presents a sketchbook. It appears to show the practice work of an artist taking their first steps into a new medium. That individual, known as Skillz (a.k.a. Matías Vásquez), already has a celebrated career as a surreal image maker as well as music video director, having worked with Bad Bunny, Lil Nas X, and Rosalia. Barrio Triste is his first feature length film, and while it shows potential, this may not be a movie so much as a director’s demo reel.
The story takes place in Medellin circa 1987. While recording a piece for broadcast, a journalist reporting on lights from the sky landing all over the city is robbed by a group of street kids. These teen outcasts take the news crew’s camera and proceed to film their daily lives. Anchored to the gutter by poverty and a nihilistic sense of despair, what transpires is a glimpse into the life of children coming-of-age with no future worth aspiring toward.
As much a grim fantasy as it is a crime drama, what unfolds makes things poetically surreal without sacrificing the gritty realism Barrio Triste aspires to. There are creatures that live in the darkness as well as those made of blinding light. Yet, their intentions are not clear even when the consequences of interacting with them seem obvious.
It’s hard to elaborate on this notion without spoiling anything. Suffice it to say that Barrio Triste aspires to keep things from ever being clear cut. The obvious conclusion isn’t always the only summation. For instance, there are constant references to missing person signs plastered all over the city, also in shrines to the lost, but having vanished doesn’t necessarily mean something tragic.
There is a fine line between a murky narrative that inspires a sense of mystery and a story that withholds details consciously to create uncertainty. Though both may compel curiosity the former typically provides clues to solve the visual riddle. Given the director’s background as a surreal image artist, the latter seems more likely since Barrio Triste offers certain mysteries that can never be solved. The speculation it then inspires may be frustrating to some desiring a solid solution, while intriguing others who like to mull over a movie with friends, dissecting it to form their own conclusions.
There’s an element of the film that aims not to be taken literally even as the movie strives for a certain degree of verisimilitude. In that respect, Barrio Triste becomes both documentary and visual poem, capturing an impressionistic portrait of nihilistic street life. Dialogue occasionally shares this aspiration such as when one character says, “Our life story was put in a wine bottle and thrown out to sea.”
Interesting as this effort is it frequently makes the movie feel a tad aimless. Plenty of scenes come across like they’re building towards something that’s never reached. Perhaps that’s the point, offering a sense of these kids’ lives, a tension that’s never resolved. Even if so, it can be frustrating to watch a lengthy take of someone walking a creepy alley way only to have it conclude in nothing. Poetic as the purpose may be, I can imagine some folks feeling cheated or irritated by the seemingly unnecessary tension.
From the moment the outcast teens take over the camera, Barrio Triste assumes a certain purposeless pace. The film initially features the most frustrating aspect of most found footage films, wherein the camera is aimed at nothing while events transpire. Dialogue conveys a sense of things, but a shaky view of feet or the street tells the audience little visually. There’s even an extended portion where the kids walk in silence with a t-shirt wrapped around the camera, meaning a black empty screen for several minutes.
One could argue that steadier views later in the film show how the teens are learning to use the instrument and in so doing document their reality. How many people will remain happily engaged during that evolution, though, is another question entirely. For those who do, the film gradually takes on a dreamlike tone as it leans into its more poetic impulses.
Assisting this sense of the surreal is an ambient score courtesy of Arca. The soundscape occasionally insists on a mood the scene doesn’t convey on its own. There are a few instances where music stings try to make things that aren’t alarming somewhat startling. Overall, the sound of Barrio Triste mixes well with its intended unreal atmosphere.
The cast isn’t composed of anyone recognizable. That lends a degree of authenticity to the movie. It never feels like following celebrities cosplaying gutter punks, rather there are occasional moments the cast comes across as ordinary people. Consequently, the feature bears a resemblance to Harmony Korine flicks like Gummo (1997) and Kids (1995). As such, the fact Barrio Triste is executive produced by him is no surprise.
That said, viewers may anticipate experimental filmmaking alongside exploring taboo topics. Sadly, Barrio Triste doesn’t feel experimental in the sense of stylization. There’s little here that hasn’t been seen in found footage flicks before, and the taboo is hardly shocking. The experimental aspect really seems more like Stillz getting to know what can be done with a feature-length film. Barrio Triste can come across as a collection of ideas meandered through to a close as opposed to an intentional narrative arriving at a conclusion.
The naturalistic nature of the cast is a plus. The found footage aspect lends a surreal poetic quality to the dreamlike nature of the narrative. Events gradually evolve from gritty crime drama to grim fantasy which may be the hook that holds most audiences in place. That’s because the pace of the picture is likely to strain a few viewers anticipating something more sinister based on the trailer. Barrio Triste essentially slow burns to no real conclusion, leaving what to make of it in the audience’s hands. Whether that pleases viewers or not, Stillz has taken a solid step into feature films.
