A delicate meditation on how trauma and violence are embedded in its eponymous protagonist’s life, Sujo squanders its ambition with bland, slow-moving melodrama. But faint notes of hope and touches of magical realism, alongside a strong final act, make this a worthwhile watch.
★★★☆☆
Sujo is a coming-of-age drama about a young boy who grows up under the shadow of his sicario father’s murder and the prevalence of drug violence around him, pushing this protagonist towards a life of crime. It’s an intriguing subject matter that, despite the acclaim it has drawn — the film has been selected as Mexico’s submission for the Academy Award for Best International Film — struggles to rise above its bland approach to complex themes of cyclical violence and inherited legacies.
The movie continually attempts to be quietly profound, but is neither gripping nor poetic, save for the sparse moments of magical realism. Even these scenes are subdued, building an impressionistic portrait of a life that is slowly moving wayward in accordance with the absence of Sujo’s (Kevin Aguilar as a young Sujo, Juan Jesús Varela as his teenage self) father, which looms over him throughout this young boy’s life. On paper the concept is fascinating, but in its execution this portrait is a severely muddled one, so indistinct in its voice and creative vision that it winds up feeling pretentious far more often than it does insightful.
These drawbacks can be found as early as the film’s opening scene, where a young Sujo pivots to look into the camera for dramatic effect, and the inclination to focus on dreary everyday moments that bleed into one another in a hazy, dull spiral. This attempt at a poetic reflection on a young boy’s life fails given the movie’s low stakes and the lack of emotional investment audiences have in Sujo as a character. The pacing is incredibly slow, making for a punishing experience that fails to offer insight into the harsh society that has moulded this protagonist.
While Sujo’s instances of magical realism are intriguing, they are only portrayed through brief conversations that end almost as soon as they’ve begun. The same can be said of this film’s central ideas, which are hardly even introduced as its plot gradually unfolds. Although there are some emotive moments when Sujo contends with the eclipsing shadow of his father’s legacy as a cartel member, there isn’t a satisfying (or memorable) push-pull dynamic between this protagonist’s better intentions and the sway of negative influences in his life. Instead, the film is made up of slow, plodding scenes that provide a fairly timid experience for much of the runtime.
It’s only in the last third of the film that Sujo turns into a genuinely profound experience. Though only gripping in rare moments, the fact that it was able to salvage this story at such a late stage is a testament to how well this narrative shift is depicted. Finally the audience is invited to truly care about this protagonist and his struggles, the plot at last becoming absorbing.
Neither actor portraying Sujo shows a great degree of talent, though in fairness, Aguilar has some moments that are very impressive given his age. But the young actor possesses the awkwardness almost always found in performances by young actors, maintaining a lopsided smile incongruous to what the character is meant to be experiencing.
Cleverly, Sujo uses Varela’s limitations as an actor to its advantage. While he sometimes looks as if he is struggling with how to silently respond to his scene partners, particularly Susan (Sandra Lorenzano), a college professor who sees his potential, this maps onto the character’s difficulties with immersing himself in a life once beyond his comprehension. This uncomfortable interim period between his differing lives and selves is well portrayed by Varela, even if it seems more symptomatic of the actor’s unintended discomfort than an intentional creative choice. This also works physically for Sujo, who is easiest to empathise with when he is silently uncomfortable around other people. His smiles almost look pained, and he moves as if his body is a cage locking him out of meaningful experiences with new people.
Even though its central character might be a bit too much of a blank slate for the film’s own good, Sujo succeeds when it offers notes of hope amidst this tale of stunted growth and a childhood enshrouded by violence and loss. Its air of mysticism might not always be justified, especially with rather pretentious opening and closing scenes, but the final stretch of this narrative is quietly engrossing, offering a complete—if unevenly executed — cinematic and emotional experience.
The Verdict
It might not always be an absorbing watch, but although Sujo’s delicate approach to its subject matter has drawbacks, it is this quality that amplifies the quiet power of its magical realist and hopeful moments. This is an earnest yet flawed portrait of a character wrapped up in internal conflict.
Words by Cian McGrath
Sujo is available in cinemas from 13th December.
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