As a sensory experience, Monos is exceptional; in fact, it is rare to see a debut feature (Alejandro Landes) that is this assured, bold and visually spellbinding. This Lord of the Flies inflected story of child soldiers left alone with a hostage and a cow on a remote mountaintop (in an unspecified South American location, though filmed in Colombia) wears its filmic influences on its sleeves – dropping into derivative territory (or homage, if you are being charitable) – but has a striking style all of its own.
The real stars of Monos are cinematographer Jasper Wolf and composer Mica Levi. Monos is a film that only works due to it creating such a vibrant sensory overload. The Colombian locations are inherently beautiful but are accentuated by stunning photography – especially in the first act. In fact, the first act of the film is definitively the strongest as it is where the film is at its most unconventional. At this point, the viewer is given little direct information and there is not much conventional plot. You are left to work out relationships and are encouraged to be overwhelmed and confused. This only adds to the sense of chaos and anarchy which resonates throughout the primary cast. There’s a wonderful dichotomy, that exists throughout the film, between chaos and order (and there are some smart visual symbols throughout that hint at the inherent duality of the primary characters). This primary theme is best shown by how the child soldiers deal with authority and rigidity, enforcing a strict soldiers code while slipping into hedonistic behaviour with shocking regularity. This dynamic relationship between discipline and anarchy serves as a smart symbol for military mentalities in general (and links to the central theme of acting, be it playacting or taking on a role) – and the fears of what strict radicalisation can bring. Therefore, the film definitively works best when it is more ethereal. There is an ironic claustrophobia to the picturesque mountaintop, from which you can see so far yet on which you feel so contained. Once again, this location (and its visual representation) perfectly capture the juxtaposing themes of freedom and control. In fact, for a lot of the film you get the sense that this is all some kind of social experiment – that these people are just being played with.
This is of course excaerbated by Mica Levi’s excellent score. Realistically, if you know Mica Levi is doing the score, you know it is going to be excellent. But in Monos, to a large extent, the score is the film. The odd rhythms and the uneasy blend of soundscape and soundtrack is instrumental to the atmosphere, which is in turn instrumental to the film’s themes. As the film progresses, it becomes more narratively conventional – and more in line with a thriller than anything else – but the avant-garde music and cinematography elevates it at every point.
To return to a previous point, the film puts its best foot forward. The ethereal ambiguity of the opening act is incredibly powerful – and very uncomfortable. At this stage, there is a lovely marriage of form and content and the movie feels of a piece with masterpieces like Beau Travail (which commits to its initial premise and expands on its central themes in a way I wish Monos did). The isolation and claustrophobia is very powerful, and is a catalyst for very interesting action, or the lack thereof. At this stages, the film is able to evoke so much by doing so little but, I would argue, Monos makes the mistake of moving on too quickly (in a way that seems bold and effective in the moment but disappointing in hindsight). The rest of the film is still audacious and accomplished but it lacks this singular focus. Monos is never a conventional film but it loses its initial, unique atmosphere that is at once chaotic and meditative (a potent combination). Though, what follows the opening is very visceral and thrilling – as we move into new locations and an increased amount of conflict. However, the film does start to tread territory seen before. To be overly critical, the film feels like a collection of motifs and territory that other films have trod before – and, often, in a superior fashion. But, the aesthetic of the film does allow it to retain a singular status. The film, however, does lose its cerebral power, but by doing so it does gain a visceral impact. This is an engaging and powerful film even if it doesn’t expand upon its potential as well as it could.
Fundamentally, Monos is an enticingly strange film that effectively wrongfoots and surprises the viewer. It covers a lot of familiar ground – and you will notice the shadow of a lot of other films – but it does so with an audacity and a style that makes it never not compelling. It could linger more in moments where it was more profound, and therefore come across as more developed and layered but, what it loses in depth, it does gain in visceral audacity. This is stylish and, often, outlandish filmmaking of the kind I wish we saw more, and while I don’t think it fully captures the lightning in a bottle its opening suggests, it is still a very impressive achievement.
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