Film Review: El Aura (2005) by Fabián Bielinsky

January 2021

A text by Ignacio Hitters

“Vas a matar a un ciervo? Hay que tener muchos huevos para eso, sabes?”

“Are you going to kill a deer? You have to have a lot of balls for that, you know? "

The first time I watched El Aura (The Aura, 2005), I don’t think I understood it. Being Fabian Bielinksy’s second movie, I’d felt that his previous movie, the more famous and acclaimed Nueve Reinas (Nine Queens, 2000), was way better, with a twist-filled plot and instantly recognizable soundtrack. However, after multiple viewings of both films over the years, my opinion has changed. Almost sixteen years from its release, El Aura by Fabian Bielinsky has only gotten better with time, with its themes of mental illness, loneliness, voyeurism, toxic masculinity and delusion feeling more prominent today than ever. 

Born and raised in Buenos Aires, Bielinsky lived his life as an outsider. Mixing a high level of intelligence and self-demandingness with his need to be out of the spotlight, he was the type of artist who would rather take huge risks than go for a more commercially viable path. This is the reason why he ended up writing and directing only two films (the other being Nueve Reinas, his earlier and more critically-acclaimed film) before his untimely death in 2006. Both films were very successful locally with some international reach as well. However, I consider El Aura to be his better film, where the former’s comedic relief is replaced by the latter’s tension and ambience, and the brighter, albeit raw setting of Buenos Aires gets replaced by the colder, ruthless background of Patagonia. While the work is filmed prominently in a somewhat conventional neo-noir style, the abstract vibe presented keeps things fresh.

As previously stated, El Aura can easily be defined as a cold film. The slow-paced, silent vibrance felt in every frame works wonders with the Bielinsky/De Santis subtle (though highly effective) script. The main plot is quite simple. Esteban (portrayed by Ricardo Darin) is an epileptic taxidermist. Leading a simple routinary life, he struggles as heavily with epilepsy as he does with loneliness and depression. In order to escape his safe, boring reality, Esteban constantly daydreams about being something he isn’t - a heartless, highly strategic career criminal. After a tragic accident occurs, Esteban is finally given a chance to play out his deepest fantasy - executing the perfect robbery. One can expect from the beginning that his lack of actual criminal experience and physio-mental limitations will heavily limit his ability to succeed, with the questions being: how far is he willing to take his actions in order to achieve his goal? Even more so, is the goal actually the robbery? Or is he just in it for the ride?

Esteban is a voyeur. In a way, the only reason he follows through with the events portrayed in the movie is a very human reason - boredom. An interesting way of seeing it would be that Esteban is “dead” during the first act, where his routine and lack of emotion has slowly but steadily been killing him over time. As soon as the “accident” happens, we see a subtle but meaningful change in his personality - even though he has seen death first hand, his character suddenly feels more alive than ever, similar to a child falling and scraping his knee for the first time. Another interpretation could be that Esteban is what can be considered an “unreliable narrator”, or a character whose interpretation of the events that occur is different from the “truth”, à la Shutter Island (2010), or Catcher in the Rye (1951). This would blur out the line between reality and fiction, causing some of the more animalistic moments of the film to take a completely different meaning. The title of the movie comes from Esteban’s epileptic attacks, which he can feel coming a few seconds before collapsing. He states that during these few seconds of time, he feels the “aura” changing, being the only point where he feels truly free, as there are no decisions to be made and one can simply let go. This heavily contrasts with the overthinking nature of a character who constantly lives in his own fantasy. Sometimes the truth hurts too much to be accepted.

Toxic masculinity is also a prominent theme. The movie has very few female characters, and it is heavily implied that they are abused in some form or other. This only fuels the idea of the abstract concepts the movie delves into. In his mind, Esteban sees himself as a white knight of some sorts, trying to save women from the plot believing he is the only one who can help them. At the same time, the implication that hunting or killing will make you a stronger, better man really messes with Esteban’s head, who does not necessarily follow the traditional norms that dictate he should act as the stronger sex. A bunch of characters around him do, though, and this not only feeds his insecurities, but also causes him to want to prove a point, both to others and to himself; that he, in fact is, a strong alpha male who can do anything he sets his mind to. 

The movie would not be the same without Ricardo Darin’s performance, which can easily be considered a career highlight. In fact, El Aura quite highly depends on Darin’s acting and (sometimes lack of) dialogue, where every single stare, smirk, sigh and pause matters. Conceptually, it is easy to draw comparisons with Antonioni’s highly-acclaimed masterpiece, The Passenger (1975), where a bored war correspondent decides to replace his identity with the one of a dead arms dealer. Antonioni’s film also has a slow, highly calculated, dialogue-soft vibrance, which could have undeniably influenced Bielinsky’s work here.

Having read about how Bielinsky was a shy, meditative individual, one can find similarities between Esteban’s character and the director. It is hard to write a movie about the human condition without actually saying much, but Bielinsky manages to pull it off like very few people can. Nueve Reinas and El Aura share a strong conceptual bond, rooted in the characters who have already risked so much, that there’s absolutely no way they can afford to lose. Think of it as a high-stakes poker game, where you have bet more than half of your chips in one round. There’s a point where you will just keep calling instead of rationally folding, because you’re already too far gone at that point, and even though your chances of succeeding seem progressively worse, you’ll still risk it all, because hey, you’ve lost everything already anyway. That is how Bielinsky writes.

Overall, I’m glad I gave this movie another chance. I know El Aura is quite a mainstream pick for Argentinian cinema, being an introductory type of film to the movement more than a cult or lesser-known film. However, film buffs still overlook it to this day, especially compared to Nueve Reinas, or Campanella’s El Secreto de sus Ojos (The Secret in Their Eyes, 2009). So, if you’re up for watching an excellently calculated slow-burner, you will enjoy this. Viewers beware, though. It’s not particularly a cheerful watch.