Embrace of the Serpent (★★★★★, cert 12A, 125 mins), an Amazonian epic set in the early 20th century, is a story about the uncontacted tribes of the Colombian jungle, rubber-baron interlopers and uncomprehending clashes between the whites and the tribes. It touches on themes of property, personal identity and connection with one’s soul.
The film is helmed by Cirro Guerra, a relative newcomer from the fledgling Colombian film scene. It was nominated for Best Foreign Language Film at this year’s Oscars (losing out to Son of Saul), and won the Art Cinema Award at the Directors’ Fortnight at Cannes this year.
The movie tells the bifurcated story of two scientists – in 1909 and 1940 respectively – attempting to locate a hallucinogenic flower called the yakruni, with the help each time of Karamakate, a member of the fictional Cohiuano tribe. It’s shot in non-digital 35mm film, which requires bulky cameras, lugged around in the virgin Amazonian rainforest, whose parts Guerra, it is sad to note, found ever more difficult to locate.
In the spirit of Werner Herzog, Guerra undertook a difficult filming process – although unlike Herzog, he didn’t threaten to kill his lead, nor did tribespeople on set offer to arrange the lead’s assassination. And while we are spared Herzog and Coppola-style scenes where symphonies are amplified into the surrounding jungles, we do see Evan, the scientist of 1940, playing Karamakate Haydn’s Creation oratorio, on a low volume, telling him it reminds him of his “home, in Boston, and my ancestors”.
The irremediable differences between the whites and the tribespeople lie at the heart of the film. “How many edges does this river have?” asks the athletic, younger Karamakate to Evan. Evan responds with “two”. Karamakate disagrees. This suggests to me Borges’s short story (Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius) about the encyclopaedia of an alien planet, where “every mental state is irreducible: the mere fact of naming it – ie classifying it – implies a falsification”. And so these latter-day Humboldts progress, intent on demarcating their biology of the Amazon.
An intense sadness permeates this incredible film: there is, of course, the indignity of personal and collective circumstance within the tribespeople. The tears of the older Karamakate, the last of the Cohiuanos, at becoming a chullachaqui, a hollow person – here a person who has forgotten the tribe’s mythologies – can be shared by anyone who loses their soul, or their faith, in the face of the barrage of media in a morally bankrupt internet plateau.
From a more disinterested, Western viewpoint, there is a further sadness: that of there no longer being an uncontacted world. Visit the Wikipedia page “Uncontacted peoples” online. It is a strange sight. There is the last of our virgin peoples, all
Areas of Catholic Herald business are still recovering post-pandemic.
However, we are reaching out to the Catholic community and readership, that has been so loyal to the Catholic Herald. Please join us on our 135 year mission by supporting us.
We are raising £250,000 to safeguard the Herald as a world-leading voice in Catholic journalism and teaching.
We have been a bold and influential voice in the church since 1888, standing up for traditional Catholic culture and values. Please consider donating.