Remember Vice News? It was like CNN with neck tattoos and no 401K. The now-defunct outlet sent its platoon of journalists (who could have moonlighted as American Apparel models) all over the globe to bring you the stories traditional media was just too boring to cover. It was Williamsburg-based world news that spawned countless copycats and influencers who strive to deliver the same type of personality-based interest stories in its wake.
In Magic Farm, Amalia Ulman takes aim at this kind of hipster media and the eccentric characters that gravitate towards it. But the larger scope of Ulman’s second feature stretches the writer-director a bit thin, lacking the cohesion and focus of her debut El Planeta.
In search of Super Carlitos, an Internet sensation who performs wearing bunny ears, a production crew from the Creative Lab Network travels to San Cristobal, Argentina. The problem: this San Cristobal is in an entirely different country. Their previous pieces cover subjects like Mexican poverty boots, a kratom tycoon, and Bolivian teen exorcists, all presented by Edna (Chloë Sevigny) and her rag-tag team of fellow narcissists––excepting Elena (Ulman), the moral barometer and only one who speaks Spanish. Her self-absorbed colleagues Jeff (Alex Wolff) and Justin (Joe Apollonio) are both inept and unqualified, more interested in their own lives than the stories they tell.
To make the best of their situation, the crew sets out to talk to the locals and find a story outrageous enough for them to cover. All around them are examples and conversations about the adverse effects of corporate agrochemicals on the town, but only Elena can translate and no one is capable enough to pay attention. Their relationships with the townspeople grow more personal but their heads are so far up their own asses that they can’t see the story right before them. Instead they decide to fabricate a trend piece by holding auditions and enlisting the help of their new Argentinian friends.
Ulman highlights the interpersonal relationships rather than the farcical plot, but the members of the crew are so buffoonish that it’s hard to sympathize with anyone outside Elena. At one point Elena interrogates the morality of her involvement in the project, concerned she’s just there to “exploit some person because they’re weird,” a concern that is met with “Well, you picked the wrong job.” Jeff becomes infatuated with a local girl while Justin messes around like a kid on vacation with his parents. Both are dramatic and needy, reeking of their first-world privilege––Ulman’s point, but they come off as grating rather than engaging. They’re drawn thin and obnoxious without many redeeming qualities, qualities not present in her previous film.
Ulman returns to Sundance after her brilliant first feature––the story of a complex relationship between a woman and her mother who struggle to pay rent in a post-financial crisis Spain––premiered in 2021. It was beautiful and understated ,with a New Wave quality: a personal narrative of common people struggling under a greater social issue and presented in black-and-white. Magic Farm diverges aesthetically, mixing 360-degree shots and action-camera montages as interstitials. It’s kinetic and colorful while retaining Ulman’s idiosyncratic transitions.
I was sold on the premise of satirizing opportunistic content creators who play dress-up as journalists, but weaving that into the storylines of the ensemble cast is no easy task for a sophomore feature. The plot gets lost; when it feels like there’s too much going on, nothing gets to shine. There’s nevertheless fun to be had in Magic Farm; importantly, Ulman’s voice and perspective are what stick with you after the credits roll. It’s encouraging to see a young director experiment, venturing into new narrative and stylistic territory.
Magic Farm premiered at the 2025 Sundance Film Festival and will be released by MUBI.