Review | The many mirrors of 'Bardo'

Renowned filmmaker Alejandro González Iñárritu returns after a seven-year hiatus with his most personal and daring film yet, “Bardo: False Chronicle of a Handful of Truths.” Photo collage by DANIEL PEARSON, staff photographer

“Bardo: False Chronicle of a Handful of Truths” is a film that operates through mirrors. These mirrors, which are present throughout many scenes in the movie, speak not only to the driving engine that propels the immersive, yet elusive narrative but also to the film’s biggest blemish.

On one hand, these mirrors are a symbol of reflection that director Alejandro González Iñárritu leans on to craft his most personal feature film yet. The deeply intimate nature results in poignant moments of rumination as he takes a deep and honest look into his past. On the other hand, much like the symbol of a mirror itself, the way that themes are unveiled can be on the nose, and sometimes Iñárritu gets caught looking in the mirror a little too long.

The term bardo refers to a transformative state of existence between death and rebirth found in the teachings of Tibetan Buddhism. The film occupies this liminal state blending moments of realism with absurdism. Oftentimes, you don’t even know you’re in a scene of fantasy until something completely out of left-field happens. During a master class on Dec. 4, Iñárritu told Chapman students that this film is not a reflection of his reality, but a reality of his reflections which perfectly encapsulates the ethereal blend of fantasy and reality. 

Iñárritu’s alter ego takes the form of Mexican journalist and documentarian Silviero Gacho, played by Daniel Giménez Cacho, who transforms and takes on the burdens of a man caught between identities. Silverio must grapple with the impact of his work, his family, his nationality and his own hypocrisies as he shifts through metaphysical planes in search for answers.  

Much like Iñárritu, Silverio is an artist who planted his roots in Mexico but left to pursue grander projects in America. The film follows Silverio’s return to Mexico which is one of the many ways the film comments upon itself — with “Bardo” being Iñárritu’s first film in Mexico after 20 years in America. Despite returning to these roots, Silverio feels like a stranger in his own home and is faced with the guilt of forever leaving. 

Each time an idea is explored, Iñárritu delves into a beautiful, striking dreamscape sequence, detached from reality. These allow Silverio to process the many relationships in his life — his relationships with himself, his family, his peers and his country’s history — and take form through immaculate set pieces such as a flooded train, a room full of sand and even a mountain of corpses. 

While these scenes often strike an emotional chord and display immaculate visual flourishes, Iñárritu uses them as a crutch to say exactly what he is trying to convey. Every single fleeting thought he has is dumped into fictitious conversations which tell just as much as they show. There are so many ideas to explore that there isn’t time for subtlety and the product is a well-constructed word vomit that throws everything out at once. 

This on-the-nose nature slips into moments of reality as well. During an entirely Spanish conversation with his family, Silverio’s son (Íker Sánchez Solano) chooses to speak English. The simple act of his son responding in a foreign language was a clear indicator of the disconnect that Silverio’s family is feeling from their Mexican roots. That was enough. Instead, Iñárritu prolongs the scene with a hard shift in the conversation where Silverio confronts his son about the importance of speaking Spanish, which is traded subtly for preachy.

Although flawed in its delivery, there’s no denying that “Bardo” is crafted by one of the most stunning filmmakers of the 21st century. Iñárritu, who has won the Academy Award for best director twice (“The Revenant,” “Birdman”), is a master of conveying the human condition through psychological dramas, with this film being no exception. He has directed 10 actors to Academy Award nominations and this skill carries over to “Bardo,” where each character feels like they have lived in the world long before we’ve arrived.

The fluidity in which the camera moves through spectacular set pieces allows the viewer to get lost in the world he’s created. Iñárritu and Bryce Dessner, who hold ‘music by’ credits, utilize powerful brass instruments to accompany these segments. The combination results in one of my favorite scenes of the year where Silverio dances with his family at a party held in his honor as the horns play over them — all done in one continuous shot. 

The structure of “Bardo” is abstract, which might lead to confusion if you look away for one second. Scenes that may feel "random" at the beginning of the film may not have a full explanation until the very end. The circular nature drops many plants with very rewarding payoffs if you’re patient enough to endure the two-hour and 40-minute runtime — which I feel could have been about 20 minutes shorter. 

“Bardo” is a rewarding experience but not an easy one. I applaud Iñárritu for the level of passion he poured into this project and the high level of craftsmanship present. I understand why some critics have referred to it as narcissistic and self-indulgent — mainly because of the way he obviously inserts himself into the narrative — but if the film medium exists to make sense of the world around, I believe Iñárritu did a fantastic job navigating the incomprehensible.