Editor’s Notes: Ardor is currently out in limited release.
In the jungles of South America, families are being chased off their land by dangerous henchmen working for large companies. João (Chico Diaz), a farmer living with his beautiful daughter Vania (Alice Braga), has been fighting off these corporate vultures for some time, but fears he can’t fight them forever. Just as a group of three gunmen begin to hang around his land, a mysterious — and shirtless — man named Kaí (Gael García Bernal) arrives. Kaí evokes the spirits of the river’s current in hopes of protecting the family, but it’s too late: João and his assistant are killed, Vania is kidnapped by the thugs, and Kaí intends to rescue her.
Melodramatic and overearnest, much of Ardor feels like a bad 1980s B-movie, complete with unnecessary exposition and the most painful expressions of sincerity you will ever see committed to film.
Pablo Fendrik’s Ardor is a Western-inspired eco-thriller with romantic and spiritual overtones; unsurprisingly, by stretching itself over so many genres, it fails to flourish in any of them. Melodramatic and overearnest, much of Ardor feels like a bad 1980s B-movie, complete with unnecessary exposition and the most painful expressions of sincerity you will ever see committed to film.
Ardor boasts gorgeous cinematography, with the jungles early in the film reminiscent of the settings of classic science fiction films. Unexplained appearances by a South American tiger — a beautiful creature we in the United States would call a jaguar — add mystery to the proceedings, as we wonder whether this tiger merely roams the jungles or has been summoned in some way by Kaí. A gruesome and mostly unexplained death of a (literally) faceless woman at the opening of the film adds to the otherworldly feel, and immediately suggests a supernatural component.
Though Ardor manages to mimic the genre it wants to pay homage to visually, it’s less successful in capturing the overall aesthetic.
As the film slowly dips its toes into the plot — a thinly veiled reworking of The Seven Samurai — the cinematography also gradually changes from mystical to a series of scenes framed in the manner of classic Spaghetti Westerns. Though Ardor manages to mimic the genre it wants to pay homage to visually, it’s less successful in capturing the overall aesthetic. The villains are pure Sergio Leone, only without any hint of satire, while Kaí is meant to be an antihero in the vein of High Plains Drifter, though lacks even one iota of charisma or menace.
In fact, it’s the dishwater-dull presence of Kaí that hampers Ardor the most. Intent on maintaining a slow and deliberate pace, the film spends significant time on a character who should be enigmatic, even spiritual. Instead, Kaí acts like a socially awkward teenager who has little ability to manage the world around him. His reasoning is suspect, his dialogue dull, his presence easily ignored. Vania’s attraction to him is bewildering.
Ardor never finds that balance between allegory, magical realism and homage that it’s searching for. The glacial pacing and too-obvious references to classic Western films illustrate an impressive amount of control on the part of the filmmakers, but it doesn’t take long before this control turns into the kind of killjoy micromanaging one would expect from uptight bankers, not filmmakers. Ardor is a revenge tale without urgency, a steamy romance without passion, and about as exciting as watching someone balance their checkbook.
Ardor never finds that balance between allegory, magical realism and homage that it's searching for. A revenge tale without urgency, a steamy romance without passion, and about as exciting as watching someone balance their checkbook.
