Jorge, the elder of the two subjects of Pedro Gonzalez-Rubio's lovely new documentary hybrid Alamar, makes his living catching fish, stingrays and lobsters in Banco Chorrico, an atoll reef off the southeast coast of Quintana Roo, Mexico. A lean and tan man of Mayan heritage, Jorge, as the film's prelude informs, enjoyed an intense but ultimately short-lived romance with an Italian woman named Roberta. The result was Natan who, at five years old, is told that he will spend a week with his father in the wilds of Banco Chorrico before moving back to Rome with his mother.

Roberta and Jorge's separation creates a structure for Alamar but from the moment Natan and Jorge step onto a small fishing vessel piloted by Jorge's elderly friend and fellow fisher Nestor, it is clear that the pains of broken home are far from what Gonzalez-Rubio's film is fascinated by. In fact, from the moment they leave her home, Roberta is only spoken of near the end of the film and not negatively, though it should be said that her presence is felt when, in the middle of the Caribbean Sea, Natan takes out a handheld video game for a moment.    

Rather than focusing on the situation they have been forced into, Gonzalez-Rubio stays towards the unspoken moments that Jorge and Natan are connected by, amplified generously by the splendorous, colorful surroundings of Banco Chorrico. For Jorge, bonding includes a coral dive to spear lobsters, fishing for barracudas without reels, lessons on how to properly snorkel, washing Nestor's boat and eating fish both fried and boiled in a stew. A lesson on how to properly handle a cattle egret, that comes to be known as Blanquito, speaks more clearly to the inherent bonds between man and animal than a dozen guilt-trip eco docs have been able to muster.    

Indeed, even more than depictions of father-son or man-animal connections, Alamar is a film full-to-bursting with vitality and generosity, one that could have so easily tipped into either a sterile Discovery Channel special or a hokey portrait of familial bonds at sea. Neither of said scenarios would allow for moments as natural and genuinely joyful as Nestor and Jorge's discussion on effects of coffee or Natan drawing fish with markers and, without warning, pointing out that he will remember the Gonzalez-Rubio's camera along with the sea life. These instances, not to mention some spectacular images of friendly crocodiles and writhing barracudas, give Alamar a lived-in feeling yet the film remains surprising and only minimally sentimental throughout. 

The film ends with a cut from the clear waters of Banco Chorrico to the dirty canals of Rome, where Roberta and Natan look out on the great city from a high spot. The story of Natan in the urban world is one that might be interesting but Alamar is not a film of balances, nor is it all that interested in the realities of Roberta's world. Banco Chorrico might seem as normal as anything else to Jorge, which the press notes describe as "part Johnny Depp, part Peter Pan," but for Natan and the audience, it's The Jungle Book with Jorge recast as a fatherly Balloo, attempting to reinforce unspoken principals of life that may get lost by the wayside when he returns to the "real" world.   

This entry was posted on Thursday, July 15th, 2010 at 12:00 pm and is filed under Movie Reviews. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.