I had a chance to see the film "Japon" by the Mexican director Carlos Reygadas. It tells the story of an exhausted, defeated and apparently unfeeling man who takes a trip to a small rural village, supposedly with the intention of killing himself. He reveals as much in an unaffected way to a man he encounters in a field during an early scene.
The journey motif is one which is emblematic of the human condition, and in this case, the fact that this journey consists of a descent is meant to suggest not only a turn toward an almost suffocating interior reflective process, but also, a descent into a metaphorical hell. This man is furthermore wounded, and he indicates this wound with a limp that hinders him seemingly at every moment. He seems uncomfortable and detached, and wishes to maintain his privacy, although at times he reflects earnestly on the people and the sights that he encounters. His is not a search for beauty but instead, one senses, a wish to recapture a feeling that has escaped, leaving him seemingly as dry and barren as the hills.
He finds accomodation in the house of an elderly lady, Dona Ascension. She has a very weathered face and a straightforward way, and a slippery way of addressing topics that attests almost to a more direct form of existence. She is unfailingly polite but never shows much emotion, choosing instead to devote her attention to the cultivation and collection of saints. She also seems wounded, and yet she persists and endures, despite the way in which she is exploited by a surly nephew who has been in and out of jail all of his life, and who seems to be the only character full of life.
The protagonist, in contrast, observes and drinks in his surroundings with a thirst that seems to defy satisfaction. He is offered tea, and he drinks liquor, and at other times he lies in his bed, drenched in sweat while , while either masturbating or flirting with a gun. If he intends to kill himself, he is held back by a certain impulse, and he begins to cultivate a relationship with his host.
As noted above, there are family conflicts that encroach on the daily existence of Dona Ascension. Her nephew has decided to remove the blocks of stones that serve to protect the house, claiming them as an inheritance that has been appropriated unfairly by his aunt. He shows little pity, and his actions serve to awaken a sense of outrage in the protagonist, driving him to emerge from what has seemed to be an impregnable emotional carapace. He seems to be recovering, as if he had taken root in this barren landscape.
The long and languid shots of fields and stony canyons and expansive skies suggest the presence of time and of cycles that seem to give way in an eternal fashion. These deep landscapes, characterized as they are by the play of light and darkness, represents a canvass for the individual psyche, and suggest as well the way in which he moves to these same cycle of regeneration and decay. The shots indicate renewal, and represent as such a mirror to the self, one who is reaching out and who is always gazing. Other sights, such as the episode where a horse copulates with a mare while being watching by a band of schoolchildren, suggests the return of a sense of vitality. They will awaken something in the character.
Ultimately, he recuperates part of his faculties, in particular, the ability to step outside himself and find a connection with the world. It is, however, by no means a parable with a happy ending. His transformation will be accompanied by grief, and it is part of the appeal of the film that these changes are presented in slow takes that end with a journey along the railroad tracks, wherein the full scope of an accident is revealed and that, somehow, suggests as well the idea of mountains being eroded. Like the protective layers of the human psyche.
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