During the early morning of March 24, 1976, a radio and TV broadcast informed the Argentinian people that their country was now under rule of Joint Chiefs General of the Armed Forces, who had overthrown Isabel Perón’s government. Less than a week later Jorge Rafael Videla named himself president, announcing the beginning of one of the deadliest military dictatorships in history. By the time democracy was restored and elections were held again it was 1983; more than 30,000 people had disappeared.
A return to democracy, however, assumed that the reign of violence and fear Argentineans lived under for almost a decade had been just another government. Normalcy was expected as President Raúl Alfonsín took over. But can a country be healed if justice isn’t served? That depends on your idea of justice—or so is the thesis of Santiago Mitre’s Argentina, 1985, which chronicles events surrounding what became known as the Trial of the Juntas, in which nine military officers, including Videla, were tried by a court of civilians for war crimes.
Ricardo Darín stars as Julio César Strassera, who was appointed Chief Prosecutor, while Peter Lanzani plays Assistant Prosecutor Luis Moreno Ocampo. The two men stirred controversy accepting offers deemed unthinkable by their colleagues. Two men whose idea of justice was to use the law to do right. But what about those who either foolishly or, by choice, side with war criminals?
“Your mother goes to church with Videla,” says Strassera to Ocampo, reminding him that men who had committed unspeakable acts against their people had been accepted back into society, and religion, as if nothing happened. They were part of socioeconomic elites that turned a blind eye during the dictatorship or, worse, benefitted from it. Convincing Ocampo’s mother, for instance, would be a moot point.
Yet convincing is what the men set out to do: we follow them from pre-trial procedures all the way to the sentencing, during which Strassera delivered a powerful closing statement that continues being quoted almost 40 years later (Darín has the time of his life recreating it onscreen).
Some historical films achieve the difficult task of making us wonder if the outcome onscreen will meet the reality we know to be true. In Argentina, 1985 Mitre’s stern timing and the technical skills deployed by collaborators create a quiet thriller. I knew how things had turned out, yet found myself wondering whether the good guys would win. Specifically: how could they win?
Between claustrophobic still shots and, sparingly used, anxiety-inducing handheld sequences, visually the film sets a mood that suggests powerlessness. Mostly comprised of interior scenes (the sets are elegantly polished and become places where it seems sunlight refuses to enter out of horror) we see Strassera and Ocampo hard at work, whether trying to recruit paralegals with almost no experience (because no one else wants those jobs) or having conversations about the case, in which more often than not they remind themselves out loud of its significance. In any other film, one could jokingly suggest a drinking game every time someone says “the most important trial in history,” but here the line becomes a mantra, a desperate prayer uttered by those who want to believe there is a light at the end of the tunnel.
Keeping with the efficient minimalism of the visuals, the screenplay (written by Mitre and Mariano Llinás) follows what one would expect from a legal procedural in terms of structure, but allows actors to deliver monologues, during court scenes, that dive into theatrical realism. These occur mostly during the trial as characters provide testimony of what they experienced under the dictatorship. To convey the horrors spoken of through recreation would be an exercise in vulgarity, so Mitre allows actors’ faces to do the work of transporting us to hell and back by simply telling us their characters’ stories. There are moments where one almost wishes to look away, even if there is “nothing” to look away from.
Though there are many examples of art and films focused on the Argentinean dictatorship and its aftermath, Argentina, 1985 arrives at a moment where a sort of ahistoricism prevails, where being reminded of what we’ve been through is perhaps more essential than ever. It’s impossible to watch the film and not wonder, for instance, whether Americans will ever see justice for the raid of the Capitol in 2021, or if other countries around the world will ever know the whereabouts of those lost under dictatorships.
An expertly-crafted quality and the joy of watching Darin take on a Hollywood-esque, larger-than-life figure with gusto make Argentina, 1985 the perfect introduction to those who don’t know about the events it centers. To those familiar with them it can perhaps inject a sense of urgency—a reminder that the labor of keeping evil away is neverending but essential.
Argentina, 1985 is now on Prime Video.