Post by stephen on Mar 30, 2024 0:34:25 GMT
The spirit of Peckinpah is alive and well—and no less blunted by time—as channeled through the lens of Chilean filmmaker Felipe Gálvez Haberle’s arrestingly grisly film The Settlers. Indeed, this tale of colonial brutality has an almost grindhouse feel at times.
Set in 1901 in the Tierra del Fuego, much of Patagonia is in the clutches of Spanish sheep mogul José Menéndez, who enlists mercenaries to patrol his lands and to ensure the trains run on time. One such mercenary (an imposing Mark Stanley, who played Grenn in Game of Thrones back when it was good) is introduced dispatching a worker injured on the job with a bullet to the brain in front of his compatriots. This mercenary, a Scot named MacLennan, is then tasked by Menéndez himself to reclaim some of the land Chile gave over to Argentina. In need of guides, McLennan recruits a sharp-eyed mestizo named Segundo (Camilo Arancibia) and a loud-mouthed American named Bill.
However, the purposes of this land dispute soon turn violent, as it is clear that no matter which nation claims the wilderness of Patagonia, blood must be spilled—and it is the indigenous peoples who face the wrath of the colonial oppressors. Gálvez Haberle spares none of the genocidal reality of the era, showing the coldblooded efficacy at the way these “adventurers” eliminate the native populace whenever they encounter them . . . and almost all of these encounters are against peaceful, unarmed people. And the violence is not merely relegated to bloodshed; there are sexual depredations at play as well, evoking the brutality of films such as Jennifer Kent’s The Nightingale.
The performances are compelling—especially from Stanley and a shrewdly demonic appearance from Fargo’s Sam Spruell—and the minimalistic score has a foreboding edge to it. And as harsh as the film can be, it does have a Herzogian beauty in its savagery. The austere desolation of the Patagonian wilds is mesmerizing, but Gálvez Haberle wisely avoids letting us get lost in the landscapes.
Set in 1901 in the Tierra del Fuego, much of Patagonia is in the clutches of Spanish sheep mogul José Menéndez, who enlists mercenaries to patrol his lands and to ensure the trains run on time. One such mercenary (an imposing Mark Stanley, who played Grenn in Game of Thrones back when it was good) is introduced dispatching a worker injured on the job with a bullet to the brain in front of his compatriots. This mercenary, a Scot named MacLennan, is then tasked by Menéndez himself to reclaim some of the land Chile gave over to Argentina. In need of guides, McLennan recruits a sharp-eyed mestizo named Segundo (Camilo Arancibia) and a loud-mouthed American named Bill.
However, the purposes of this land dispute soon turn violent, as it is clear that no matter which nation claims the wilderness of Patagonia, blood must be spilled—and it is the indigenous peoples who face the wrath of the colonial oppressors. Gálvez Haberle spares none of the genocidal reality of the era, showing the coldblooded efficacy at the way these “adventurers” eliminate the native populace whenever they encounter them . . . and almost all of these encounters are against peaceful, unarmed people. And the violence is not merely relegated to bloodshed; there are sexual depredations at play as well, evoking the brutality of films such as Jennifer Kent’s The Nightingale.
The performances are compelling—especially from Stanley and a shrewdly demonic appearance from Fargo’s Sam Spruell—and the minimalistic score has a foreboding edge to it. And as harsh as the film can be, it does have a Herzogian beauty in its savagery. The austere desolation of the Patagonian wilds is mesmerizing, but Gálvez Haberle wisely avoids letting us get lost in the landscapes.