Story/Mood: This haunting documentary tells the story of the 2009 murder of Javier Chocobar, a member of the indigenous Chuchagasta community in Argentina, during a confrontation with a landowner and his henchmen who want to exploit the land where the Chuchagasta live. The viewer is thrown into the middle of the story, beginning with the long-delayed trial of the landowner and his accomplices, and shaky cell phone footage of the encounter. It then weaves in the voices of the Chuchagasta community—they speak about the shooting that killed Chocobar and about their lives in this terrain and the histories of their ancestors.
I found myself confused at first, trying to find my bearings and figure out what was going on, but soon realized that that this is what the director intended: that I should reorient my way of seeing the world. I came away deeply moved and with an understanding of both the immediate circumstances that led to Chocobar’s murder and the systematic violence, theft, and erasure done to indigenous communities in Argentina over centuries.
The Look: The film opens with an extended dreamy sequence of earth shot from space and frequently cuts away to captivating footage of the mountainous region that the Chuchagasta call home. These repeated cutaways, layered with the voices of the different characters in the film, raised the question of whether nature is actually owned by anyone—without it having to be explicitly asked.
Crew: Argentinian director Lucrecia Martel is celebrated for her four feature films, including La Ciénaga/The Swamp (2001), her debut, and most recently Zama (2017). Nuestra Tierra/Our Land is her fifth film and first documentary. In a press statement, Martel said: “The word of the communities is always questioned because the very existence of indigenous peoples is doubted by the rest of the Argentines. Although many attacks on communities are captured on video, neither the images nor the sounds have managed to sway public opinion in their favor. A country founded on the usurpation of land trembles when indigenous peoples appear. It’s a sign that there is something in our history that has been silenced. Private property, the cornerstone of the republic, reveals its illegitimacy.”
Memorable Moment: When Chuchagasta community members said that their parents had told them they were indigenous. That took me by surprise. Didn’t they always know they were indigenous? And that’s when I realized the extent to which their identity had been stripped away. One of the community members had this to say: “We were taught what the books said. That this country had been inhabited by Indigenous people. Very little was said about the fact that Indigenous peoples still inhabit it. That we are still here.” That desire not to recognize the continuing existence of a people is directly tied to the imperative to claim ownership of land.
Where to Watch: Our Land opens at Film Forum in NYC and Roxie in San Francisco on Friday, May 1. Los Angeles release on Friday, May 8; additional cities to follow. If you can’t see it in theaters, add it to your streaming list!
Other notes: 122 minutes. In Spanish with English subtitles.
