“Jauja” is an art-house film. What is art-house? Art-house films are sometimes art, sometimes they’re pretentious, usually they have subtitles, and often they implode the skull with boredom by attempting to go outside the tried-and-true (*ahem* fun) laws of cinematic storytelling.
As mentioned, “Jauja” is one such art-house film, and a South American Western to boot. It’s a little comedic, with a tiny smidgen of drama, a disturbing slaying or two, and a lot of grass for you to literally watch growing. The actors watch the grass grow too. Like right here. Look at them watching the grass grow. Very artistic.
The main attraction: megastar Viggo Mortensen of “The Lord of the Rings.” He’s speaking Danish and Spanish here. So check the subtitles box.
But, well, you know ... enjoy? See, for me, checking the bored-silly box automatically creates an “I did not enjoy it” box, which I find I must vehemently check. Maybe you like watching grass grow. What do I know?
Opening with a much-longer-than-“Star Wars” text, we learn that “Jauja” was the name of the former capital of Spanish Peru. It also means “Unattainable Utopia.”
Down thereabouts in Patagonia, there was a “Conquest of the Desert,” around 1882. The Spaniards and the Danes are warring over some great, green, grassy tracts of land. There’s also a genocide of South American Indians happening.
Lanky, bearded, slightly inept Danish captain Dinesen (Mortensen) is working as an engineer with the Argentine army.
His daughter Ingeborg (Viilbjork Malling Agger) is a 15-year-old Scandinavian blonde and comely bit of jailbait, the only female around for miles and miles. She’s sought after by a quietly disgusting, older Spanish soldier. (He asks her father if he can take her to the ball.) She eventually hightails it out of there with a handsome young Spanish soldier. Smart girl.
And … Grass
Mostly. To sum up, you’ve got walking through grass, riding a horse through grass, and sitting amid the grass. And there’s a stream. And some boulders. And even a cave with an old woman in it. A few grisly kills. But mostly there’s grass. And it grows. Green. Sometimes yellow.Does he find his daughter? Can’t tell you. He does find a dog. A large, flea-bitten Irish wolfhound with that itchy, hot patch dogs sometimes get when they get nervous and upset. He follows the dog, hither and thither. Through the grass.
Should that be profound? Unfortunately, the only thought that comes to mind is that, since this is 1882, it’s a shame they don’t yet have those white plastic funnels to put on the dog’s head to keep it from scratching.
Nobody’s geared to appreciate this kind of cinematic experience these days. Unless perhaps told beforehand: “Assume a meditative state.” Interesting to hear Danish-American Viggo’s Danish (and Spanish), though.