The Aerial

La Antena, an audacious film by Argentine director Esteban Sapir, succeeds both as a reinvention of the silent movie genre and a gripping cautionary tale. The setting is a city in thrall to mindless television, its people deprived of the power of speech except for a solitary and mysterious screen presence known simply as The Voice. In a bid to cement their grip on power the marvellously villainous duo of television mogul Mr. TV and mad scientist Dr. Y set out to kidnap The Voice and turn her unique talent towards their own dastardly ends. It is up to a young family and The Voice's nameless, eyeless son to stop this evil scheme. The result is a roller coaster of a story that is bewildering on occasion but never less than engrossing.

This is a silent movie that wears many of its influences on its sleeve; the overt references to silent movie greats such as George Melies and Fritz Lang will be readily apparent to anyone with a passing familiarity of their work. But more subtle references and symbolism lie behind such tributes. I particularly like the fact that Mr. TV and his henchman drive around in typical 1930s gangster cars, drawn from the decade when the silent movie era died away and a very different industry began to emerge.

La Antena mines the clichéd plot devices and theatrical over-acting common to so many silent films, albeit in a very knowing and humorous way. It is the astonishing visual style of La Antena that really sets it apart from the movies that it pays homage to. From the hypnotic TV logo to the menacing hilltop transmission station, this film abounds with dazzling visual inventiveness that is the rival of a Studio Ghibli animation – and all this using real actors and handmade sets.

Moreover, though the style is often intentionally corny and theatrical, this is still an unsettling, provocative and emotional picture. The use of religious symbolism throughout La Antena lends added resonance to the struggle between the TV Empire and the waning power of words. At the same time, many of the most powerful images are original ones, including the hypnotic swirl of the television sets and the nightmarish TV food factory.

I hate to end this review on a sour note, but I feel that the English-language release of La Antena is let down by the subtitles. The original Spanish subtitles are used to great effect, with much playing around with words on screen. However, the English-language subtitles that accompany the original dialogue are frustratingly incomplete, with omissions and mistakes at times leaving the viewer to piece things together for themselves. La Antena is nevertheless a striking piece of cinema; a visually breathtaking experience that displays great energy and humour whilst narrating a powerful cautionary tale.