“A film that is perhaps best described as a visual poem, a tribute to the past and the people who resided within it.”

The past is a place that we all frequently visit – but depending on which memories we evoke these voyages into our personal histories can either bring joy or discomfort. César Augusto Acevedo uses this ambiguity as the foundation for Horizonte, his extraordinary sophomore film in which he tells the story of the ghosts of a mother and son revisiting places from their past, including their ancestral home and the villages where they grew up, as well as those that came before them. A hauntingly beautiful and sometimes disturbing film that blends psychological drama with magical realism, this story cuts to the core of what it means to be human in a manner that is poignant, heartfelt and deeply unsettling, which are all reactions that don’t necessarily seem compatible in theory, but which the director effectively conveys in a more complex and engaging way than we may have anticipated based on the premise. Horizonte is a simple and evocative film focused on plumbing the emotional depths as the two main characters traverse the past, coming to terms with uncomfortable truths and seeking some way to atone for their philosophical misdemeanors that occurred during their lifetimes, the consequences of which they have to face as they remain suspended in this state of existential limbo. Unconventional and hypnotic, but deeply moving in a way that feels earnest and like it is crafted from layers of thoughtful philosophical analysis, Horizonte is an immense achievement. It feels like a major step forward for Acevedo as an essential voice in contemporary global cinema, which is only growing stronger as a result of such visionary young directors taking bold risks and creating work that reflects not only their own personal quandaries, but their entire national identity, something that has only grown stronger as a result of more diverse voices being given such a platform.

The message at the heart of Horizonte is made clear in its opening moments, since it is obvious that Acevedo sees very little use in crafting a film built on ambiguity to the extent that it becomes difficult for the viewer to understand the direction it is moving at any given point. This film is simply about the experience of being haunted by ghosts of the past, with the only difference here being that this story is told from the perspective of the deceased themselves. We follow along as they navigate various existential crises related to their reflections on the lives they have recently lost, watching them as they make their way through this indeterminate time and place in which they have been spiritually resurrected. In theory, it sounds somewhat absurd and perhaps like a botched attempt at profundity, but under Acevedo’s masterful, intricate direction it becomes absolutely extraordinary. This is a Beckett-like story of meandering souls seeking meaning in a world that has grown increasingly bleak, and who seem to be doomed to an eternity of sauntering aimlessly through an environment that they only vaguely recognize, attempting to interact with people who are unaware that they are constantly being observed. Horizonte offers an unconventional glimpse into the past, following these individuals as they drift through what we can assume is some kind of purgatory (although such a word is intentionally never used, along with many other terms that relate to the afterlife), showing their gradual realization that the past, present and future are all combined in a bundle of existential despair, bound to repeat itself ad nauseam, with only minor changes. In the process, Acevedo challenges religious and social conventions, looking at the destructive nature of humanity, particularly in our incessant need to default to some form of colonialism, whether physical or philosophical.

In order to bring this film to life the director employs a unique style that is perfectly aligned with his vision and the intentions he has for the narrative. Primarily, we find that Horizonte is a film that evokes a very eerie, dreamlike tone. It is driven by the atmosphere, with Acevedo establishing a specific mood that guides the story, pushing us through this sometimes unsettling depiction of reality and giving us invaluable insights into the existential strife experienced by the characters. Both tonally and visually the film is an absolute marvel, and we find that the two elements work in communion with one another – the distinctive atmosphere is buttressed by the visual elements, with the compositions by cinematographer Mateo Guzmán standing out as some of the most gorgeous of the year. The way he frames each shot, as well as the use of colors and the fact that the film oscillates between showing these characters from afar at one moment, and in extreme close-up in another (as well as a few in which we literally see the surrounding terrain from their point of view) creates an intentionally disorienting experience, implying that we have access to some parts of their psychological state, but not others. It ultimately becomes a voyeuristic view of a war-torn country, focusing specifically on the hollow shell of society left behind in the aftermath. We are plunged into a trance-like state, and to fully understand the film and what it represents it helps to simply surrender to the madness that surrounds the film and allow ourselves to follow the hypnotic paths down which we are gradually led. It’s deeply unconventional and slightly unsettling in a way that can be difficult to comprehend at times, but it is clear that understanding the nuances of this film is not entirely necessary; instead it becomes a sensory experience, one built on a more simple, elegant approach to the narrative process, which is conveyed brilliantly throughout the film. It is an immersive view of the past, carefully curated by a director wholeheartedly dedicated to quite an unconventional but nonetheless daring premise.

This is a film that is perhaps best described as a visual poem, a tribute to the past and the people who resided within it, and therefore the filmmaking is as important as the performances delivered by the actors cast in these challenging roles. The two protagonists are portrayed by Claudio Cataño, as the young man who is filled with remorse and apoplectic rage after his premature death, and whose arrival back in the world he had left only moments before further adds to his confusion; and by the legendary Paulina García, playing his mother, a woman who struggled to provide for her family and ultimately died at the hands of the same child she is now accompanying through the afterlife. The two leads are perfectly aligned with Acevedo and his vision, tempering their performances to match his style and the overall intentions of the material. Neither of them goes too broad and they constantly resist the temptation to play to the rafters. The entire reason Horizonte succeeds is because everyone on both sides of the camera is in sync with one another, existing on the same wavelength of philosophical ambiguity, where even one instance of doing too much or too little could alter the entire trajectory of the film – a film that is far more effective as a piece of narrative storytelling when it maintains a consistent tone. The element of surprise is also very important, and it falls to Cataño and García to facilitate these moments where the audience is caught off-guard, since these essentially pad the film and make it a far more complex, engaging story, one that is driven by a genuine, earnest sense of wanting to explore the past. The supporting cast is populated by strong performances, and while most of them appear only for one or two scenes and usually exist only to advance the plot involving the two leads, the film becomes a strong ensemble effort, and Acevedo shows himself to be as able a writer for actors as he is a storyteller and visual stylist.

Horizonte is a film that questions human nature and takes us on an existential odyssey, in which it addresses some of life’s most challenging questions while evoking the past and looking at the direction in which the present world is moving. Here this takes the form of an uncomfortable, rapidly declining empire built on imperialism and despair. Making sense of the film is both difficult and redundant – this is not a work that demands, or even allows, any kind of clear interpretation, so attempting to do so will not only frustrate viewers seeking a more directly didactic account of these themes but also remove the mystical luster that lingers over every frame. The film is composed of an endless stream of nightmarish images, which can be disturbing or beautiful depending on our perspective. It takes us on a metaphysical journey as we follow these characters seeking answers to questions that are quite simply impossible to resolve, and the conclusion is that we are constantly trapped in a cycle of repetition; one that cannot ever be changed, in which we are constantly atoning for the sins of the past, whether committed by ourselves or the ancestors that came before us. This leads to the film becoming quite a daring piece of postcolonial literature. It may be cynical, but it is also truthful and offers a bleak but important glimpse into the subject matter. Functioning as both a stunning visual achievement and a bittersweet elegy to the past and the people who populated it, Horizonte is one of the year’s most fascinating, complex and engaging films. It is a great introduction to Acevedo as a talented new voice in global cinema, and a brilliant piece of storytelling that doesn’t give us the answers we want, but rather insights into the human condition, the likes of which are genuinely challenging and revolutionary.