Sergi Lopez and Alfredo Castro work miracles in "A Ravaging Wind"
I swore to myself that, if ever I got to attend TIFF, I wouldn't capitulate to the tyranny of awards buzz. Smaller pictures and international sensations deserve as much attention as those movies bound for Academy consideration. Now that I'm here, that intention remains true, though new frustrations compound with old ones, especially concerning actors. In such a wide array of world cinema offerings, it's dispiriting that the only thespians that can headline articles and cause social media stirs are either Hollywood institutions or Sandra Hüller.
That's not a dig at those lucky few, merely an appreciation that there's greatness beyond the mainstream spotlight. In other words, everyone at TIFF should be talking about what Chilean star Alfredo Castro and Catalan star Sergi López achieve in A Ravaging Wind…
A Ravaging Wind by Paula Hernández
Faith is spectacle, and healing is a business in Paula Hernández's latest film, an Argentinean gem with a pitch-black nucleus like veined cancer. The Sleepwalkers' director returns to the festival with an adaptation of Selva Almada's novel about Leni (Almudena González), a young woman on the cusp of adult independence, traveling cross-country with her missionary father. Revered Pearson (Alfredo Castro) is a man of god with an uncertain past, his father's name abandoned because the mother's sounded more commercial. As for his daughter's other parent, that's a forbidden subject, no matter how much Leni might ask about it. That's far from the only issue jeopardizing the harmony between father and daughter.
We meet them at work, him proselytizing in evangelical fervor to a rapt audience, she watching from the backstage with an unreadable look in her eye. We soon become accustomed to their rhythms, Castro and newcomer Almudena González are able to suggest a life's worth of material through the way they negotiate each other's presence. Their friction runs deep and would be mostly invisible if not for the odd tension in the patriarch's eye or the daughter's terrified smuggling of a cassette full of godless rock into their car. When, one unbearably hot day, the vehicle breaks down, you can feel, in your bones, that a storm is coming between the two.
Desperate for assistance in the middle of nowhere on a weekend when most mechanics have closed shop, the Pearsons are towed to Gringo's (Sergi López) humble workshop as their last and only hope. He's a gruff man, looking for all the world like Santa left Mrs. Claus and decided to turn rough trade with grease stains to match. Pardon the silly description, but levity is hard to come by in A Ravaging Wind, so we might as well indulge in it. Hernández does nothing to alleviate the mounting tension, honing her camera on the discomfort of all involved as Gringo's facially-deformed son and assistant becomes the target of the Reverend's savior complex.
Most of the action takes place on that single day's long journey into night, superficial cordiality gradually eroded until only open hostilities remain. Eventually we're watching two men battle for a boy's soul, one claiming it for god and the other for a father's tough love. Leni observes from the sidelines, the actress formulating a character study based on passive reaction as the lead-up to an action that will forever define her life. The camera gets more from her apprehensive posture than it could get from a thousand monologues. Still, as good as she is, González can't compare to the two acting titans butting heads.
As Pearson, Alfredo Castro (El Conde, Tony Manero, From Afar) is a marvel showing godliness disguising arrogance, a man so drunk on self-regard that he confuses his egoism for divine commandment. At first, he grounds the Reverend's insidiousness, diverting the audience's attention in a way that makes you understand how the two missionaries have managed to coexist so far without separation. It's brilliant naturalism with a sharp edge, ready to draw blood when finally unsheathed by some boozy libation. Before our eyes, one of our greatest living actors surrenders to the pits of madness, his face shapeshifting from a kind mask to a devil's glare.
That he still manages to draw it all back for a final glimpse at the man's humanity is a testament to Castro's limitless ability. As you can imagine, for anyone to meet such actorly achievement would be amazing. To surpass it in the same film should be nigh impossible. Nevertheless, that's precisely what Sergi López (Pan's Labyrinth, With a Friend Like Harry) does, plundering the depths of Gringo's bad attitude in search of tenderness, so vulnerable you ache to look elsewhere. It's too painful, too real in the way cinema so often is, illuminating truths deep within that the audience might not have even realized were there in the first place. It's the magic of the movies, the Actor's miracle, and a new crowning jewel in Paula Hernández's ever-more impressive filmography.
A Ravaging Wind had its World Premiere at TIFF and is still looking for international distribution. Let's cross our collective fingers, for every cinephile interested in acting should see it, bask in it, marvel in terrified awe.