The Aura was the late director Fabian Bielinsky's follow-up to the exciting conman movie Nine Queens. Despite equally strong critical notices and some positive aspects, The Aura suffers from a heaviness that Nine Queens was lacking.
An epileptic taxidermist with a photographic memory has an unusual hobby. He likes to plan and imagine robberies. He is convinced that he could pull off the perfect crime. Of course, being a respected taxidermist for a Buenos Aires museum, the protagonist limits his crime sprees to daydreams. That is until he accidentally kills a stranger during an ill-advised hunting vacation. The taxidermist slowly learns that his victim was plotting the robbery of an armored car. With a nod to Antonioni's The Passenger, the taxidermist decides to follow through on his victim's heist. Along the way, for this is not a fast moving film, the protagonist begins to understand that he shares similarities to the man he killed. Both men have an obsession with detail and meticulous planning. Both men are attracted to younger women (the taxidermist finds himself drawn to the dead man's young widow). Finally, both men are befriended by a semi-wild dog. The film gives so many random shots of this dog, that most viewers will come to the conclusion that this isn't just a dog but a symbol. A symbol for what is another question. Does the canine stand for the dual nature of man, domestication and savagery, or is the dog a symbol for the film's own portentous quality?
The film's end credits break at roughly 125 minutes, which is a bit much for a modest heist film. It is clear that director Fabian Bielinsky thinks of his film as an art movie. However, the script is not strong enough to support such lofty ambitions. A couple problematic examples follow.
After the taxidermist shoots the other hunter, but before he knows the victim was a criminal, the protagonist confesses the crime neither to his friend whom he is on vacation with, nor to local authorities, nor to the dead man's widow, who owns the cabin the taxidermist is renting. Paradoxically, the taxidermist does not flee the area before the body is found. No, instead, he pockets the dead man's phone (why?) and hangs around the dead man's home. Is the taxidermist trying to work up the courage to tell the dead man's widow? Is he in shock? How is a viewer to read these actions, other than as flaws in the script?
Let's take a close look at this taxidermist. He is supposed to have an amazing memory, an obsessive attention to detail, and a fascination with true crime. In spite of all of these traits, he fails to understand, and even forgets about, an important clue. Yet, this viewer, who lacks the protagonist's picture perfect memory, knew exactly what the clue meant and did not forget about it. In addition, the protagonist has been planning the perfect crime for years, yet when he finally gets a chance to carry it out, he seems more interested in his victim's widow. Instead of spending the day before the robbery studying the dead man's plans and records, the taxidermist drives the widow to church and flirts with her.
If some of this sounds like nitpicking, The Aura, with its aesthetic aspirations, sets itself up for close scrutiny. Another draft of the script might have ironed out some of these inconsistencies. One wishes the filmmakers had spent that extra bit of time because The Aura has two strong elements to recommend it. The first is the acting. This is a first person movie, one where the protagonist is in every scene. Therefore, the lead actor needs to be especially good. To his credit, Ricardo Darin pulls it off nicely. The role calls for minimal dialogue and a maximum of thinking. Darin is always dominantly present even when he is saying nothing. Furthermore, Darin gets solid support from the rest of the cast. Secondly, The Aura boasts lively photography, which makes excellent use of the natural exteriors. The film is pleasing to the eye.
The Aura is not exactly a bad film, but one wishes it was better. Now, someone just needs to explain what the dog is supposed to mean.
An epileptic taxidermist with a photographic memory has an unusual hobby. He likes to plan and imagine robberies. He is convinced that he could pull off the perfect crime. Of course, being a respected taxidermist for a Buenos Aires museum, the protagonist limits his crime sprees to daydreams. That is until he accidentally kills a stranger during an ill-advised hunting vacation. The taxidermist slowly learns that his victim was plotting the robbery of an armored car. With a nod to Antonioni's The Passenger, the taxidermist decides to follow through on his victim's heist. Along the way, for this is not a fast moving film, the protagonist begins to understand that he shares similarities to the man he killed. Both men have an obsession with detail and meticulous planning. Both men are attracted to younger women (the taxidermist finds himself drawn to the dead man's young widow). Finally, both men are befriended by a semi-wild dog. The film gives so many random shots of this dog, that most viewers will come to the conclusion that this isn't just a dog but a symbol. A symbol for what is another question. Does the canine stand for the dual nature of man, domestication and savagery, or is the dog a symbol for the film's own portentous quality?
The film's end credits break at roughly 125 minutes, which is a bit much for a modest heist film. It is clear that director Fabian Bielinsky thinks of his film as an art movie. However, the script is not strong enough to support such lofty ambitions. A couple problematic examples follow.
After the taxidermist shoots the other hunter, but before he knows the victim was a criminal, the protagonist confesses the crime neither to his friend whom he is on vacation with, nor to local authorities, nor to the dead man's widow, who owns the cabin the taxidermist is renting. Paradoxically, the taxidermist does not flee the area before the body is found. No, instead, he pockets the dead man's phone (why?) and hangs around the dead man's home. Is the taxidermist trying to work up the courage to tell the dead man's widow? Is he in shock? How is a viewer to read these actions, other than as flaws in the script?
Let's take a close look at this taxidermist. He is supposed to have an amazing memory, an obsessive attention to detail, and a fascination with true crime. In spite of all of these traits, he fails to understand, and even forgets about, an important clue. Yet, this viewer, who lacks the protagonist's picture perfect memory, knew exactly what the clue meant and did not forget about it. In addition, the protagonist has been planning the perfect crime for years, yet when he finally gets a chance to carry it out, he seems more interested in his victim's widow. Instead of spending the day before the robbery studying the dead man's plans and records, the taxidermist drives the widow to church and flirts with her.
If some of this sounds like nitpicking, The Aura, with its aesthetic aspirations, sets itself up for close scrutiny. Another draft of the script might have ironed out some of these inconsistencies. One wishes the filmmakers had spent that extra bit of time because The Aura has two strong elements to recommend it. The first is the acting. This is a first person movie, one where the protagonist is in every scene. Therefore, the lead actor needs to be especially good. To his credit, Ricardo Darin pulls it off nicely. The role calls for minimal dialogue and a maximum of thinking. Darin is always dominantly present even when he is saying nothing. Furthermore, Darin gets solid support from the rest of the cast. Secondly, The Aura boasts lively photography, which makes excellent use of the natural exteriors. The film is pleasing to the eye.
The Aura is not exactly a bad film, but one wishes it was better. Now, someone just needs to explain what the dog is supposed to mean.