‘After This Death’ Review: Mia Maestro Can’t Get Lee Pace Out of Her System in Lucio Castro’s Elegant Oddity

At times, it feels like there’s a melody buried deep within, yearning to be expressed – a sentiment echoed by countless musicians in their interviews. Yet, when that melody seems more like an unfamiliar whisper rising from your core, the question arises: is this truly my own voice trying to break free? This intriguing dilemma is skillfully presented by Argentine filmmaker Lucio Castro in “After This Death,” a movie that tiptoes on the edge of eerie and absurd, yet manages to avoid slipping into outright horror-infused silliness. The film’s emotional weight is what keeps it grounded, despite its cryptic narrative. If not quite as polished or radiant as Castro’s debut, “End of the Century,” this second work still showcases his ability to clear the challenging second-album hurdle – fittingly so, given the story revolves around a complex album recording process.

A significant portion of the success of “After This Death” can be attributed to Mia Maestro, Castro’s co-star and leading lady, who brings a sense of intelligence and stability to the story. Her performance strikes the perfect balance between skepticism and belief, guiding the narrative towards its quasi-Hitchcockian themes. Her character’s vulnerable honesty creates an intriguing contrast with Lee Pace’s portrayal, who skillfully satirizes a certain type of mystic-himbo archetype. This adds a touch of subtle humor to a film that is otherwise deeply intense in its emotional resonance. While the thriller elements of this Berlinale Special premiere may be emphasized by distributors, the film defies easy categorization.

In this story, the character named Maestro is an Argentine voiceover artist who lives with her husband Ted (portrayed by Rupert Friend) in a stylish modern cabin in rural upstate New York. Despite feeling slightly disoriented and lost at times, as conveyed through her inner thoughts, she expresses these feelings in Spanish since the film’s dialogue is primarily English. Pregnant for the first time and with Ted frequently absent on work trips, Maestro finds comfort by taking long, solitary walks around the area. Cinematographer Barton Cortright beautifully captures these surroundings, always presenting a picturesque autumnal scene of rich coppers, bronzes, and occasional bursts of hunter green.

In a hidden cave entrance, she encounters hiker Elliott (Pace), who captivates her with his flirtatious and philosophical comments about nature. However, she rejects his advance of giving her his contact information. Later, while attending a concert with friend Alice (Gwendoline Christie, somewhat stereotypically cast), she recognizes Elliott as the lead singer of a popular rock band. Their music is similar to The National with a touch of Jim Morrison’s stoned lyricism. Isabel finds his lengthy, spoken-word performances on stage unimpressive, even comical, despite her secret attraction to him, especially when he makes a bold and direct proposal: “I’m a great pussy eater.”

In this version, the text is more concise, maintains the original meaning, and uses a more natural and easy-to-read language.

In the story, she trusts his words, leading to a passionate relationship that abruptly halts when she suffers a stillbirth. This unfortunate event is followed by another mysterious incident where it seems their souls might have intertwined or even merged. Elliott’s departure from the scene doesn’t feel entirely conclusive. As time passes, his devoted fans seem to shift their adoration towards her, displaying increasingly ominous behavior as they eagerly await the release of the band’s anticipated final album. The screenplay by Castro skillfully exploits the intense online surveillance and complex decoding practices common in modern music fandom, creating an atmosphere of escalating paranoia. However, the film may reveal its thematic intentions too early with a reference to “Vertigo” at the beginning.

The band’s music, penned by Robert Lambardo, has a relatable quality that makes it seem like it could be played in reality and attract a dedicated, analytical fanbase due to its rich lyrical imagery and the fusion of minimalistic acoustic sounds with murky industrial noise. In contrast, Yegang Yoo’s score, characterized by whispery synths and wind instrument notes, offers a lighter, more ethereal contrast throughout, suggesting it might be the music of Isabel’s mind rather than Elliott’s.

Eventually, the two sounds will converge in the center, leading to profound and possibly emotional consequences. At its core, “After This Death” harbors a deep, intricate tribute to the essence of art and its creation, be it for personal liberation or to connect with another entity, whether known or unknown, residing on this planet or elsewhere in the cosmos.

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2025-02-21 14:47