The Frontier Café is in the middle of its fall/winter international film program titled "Global Lens 2008," the most recent intstallment of which is the Argentinian film "El Custodio."
Filmed in 2006 and directed by Rodrigo Moreno, "El Custodio" reveals the everyday life of a personal bodyguard, Ruben, as he spends his days shadowing his boss, the Minister of Planning in Argentina. While Ruben's life is shown to be monotonous, meaningless and repetitive, "El Custodio" is anything but. If this film is an indicator of the quality of the rest of the films in Global Lens, Bowdoin students should start heading to the Café for more than just scones and coffee.
Moreno, born in Buenos Aires in 1972, graduated from the directing program at the Universidad del Cine in his native city and has directed many short films, but "El Custodio" is his first feature film.
Right from the beginning, "El Custodio" puts the audience in Ruben's shoes. The camera stays with Ruben on the outside of closed doors while he waits for the minister to finish with endless meetings and as he gets in and out of cars hundreds of times per day as the minister travels. It becomes clear early in the film that Ruben's professional life is his entire life, and it is dull and tedious.
Ruben's repetition of meaningless tasks day after day weighs increasingly on his mind, the only relief from which are regular visits to a prostitute.
Ruben also happens to be particularly talented at drawing, but his skill is taken lightly and laughed at by the minister. After being asked to draw a portrait of one of the minister's politician friends over lunch one day, the friend remarks, "If he uses his gun like his pen, I can sleep easy tonight." Any creativity Ruben has is ignored. He means nothing more to the minister, his wife and his family than an object that serves no purpose except to ensure the security of his employers.
Although Ruben remains in the shadows, he sees and hears everything that goes on in the minister's dysfunctional family, and the more he hears, the more he grows to secretly despise the minister and his empty life as a bodyguard.
Much of the effectiveness of "El Custodio" comes from its ability to portray an incredibly uninteresting existence in an engaging way. Ruben's solemn compliance with every mundane order he is assigned makes the audience sympathetic toward him, and the minister's indifference toward a man that spends his whole day waiting on him makes us anticipate and hope for Ruben's eventual revolt against the minister.
The dialogue of the film is sparse and relatively insignificant, just as Ruben's life is basically void of conversation and meaningful human interaction. Moreno's cin ematography is also representative of Ruben's physical and emotional state: dull colors and hard, empty rooms fill the screen for the majority of the film, while the repetition of certain shots and scenery, such as the constantly repeated shot from the backseat of Ruben's car as he follows the minister, indicates that Ruben's routine is frustratingly unchanging.
The film effectively shows life from a rarely considered perspective, staying true to Global Lens' credo: "Every person has a voice. Every voice tells a story. Every story reveals a world." "El Custodio" reveals Ruben's world?a world in the shadows?the troubles of which end up being too much for him to endure.