Film

A marshy landscape seen in moonlight. People moving through inky shadows. Shot on hi-def video that yields impressively cinematic results, La León is an impressionistic experience anchored in the sensual. What plot there is emerges like a figure coming out of a fog.

This approach makes sense for the material. In the Paraná Delta of northern Argentina, people go about the business of surviving without a lot of conversation. Álvaro (Román) ekes out a living cutting reeds. He keeps to himself, possibly because he’s gay, and his romantic options are, as you might imagine, pretty limited.

Álvaro has a strange relationship with water-taxi-captain Turu (Valenzuela), a burly tough guy who calls Álvaro a faggot but seems to have some sexual issues of his own. Anyone familiar with the darker, poetic side of the gay literary tradition can tell you that their tortured dance of attraction and repulsion can go only two places: sex or violence. A subplot about illegal logging feels like a bit of a red herring.

The power of the film rests largely in the visuals. Cinematographer Paula Grandio uses darkness like a cloak over characters’ souls, asking us to read their hidden hearts.