‘Double Freedom’ Review: Lisandro Alonso’s Slow-Cinema Sequel

When Argentine director Lisandro Alonso’s feature debut, Freedom (La Libertad), premiered in Cannes’ Un Certain Regard in 2001, it struck a cord with hardcore cinephiles who saw something special in the film’s minimalist narrative and transfixing visuals, which captured the quiet beauties of life in a remote corner of the Pampas.

Chronicling the daily routine of a logger, Misael (Misael Saavedra), residing in a ramshackle cabin in the middle of nowhere, Alonso painstakingly depicted the existence of a man whose extreme liberty — from modern civilization; from worry; from a regular movie plot — was undercut by a darkness that seemed to be lurking just beneath the surface.

Freedom was a take-it-or-leave-it arthouse flick — what some like to call “slow cinema,” either in praise or derision — and it made Alonso a Cannes favorite, with subsequent works like Jauja and Eureka (both starring Viggo Mortensen) all bowing at the festival. He returns to the Croisette for the seventh time with Double Freedom (La Libertad Doble), a sequel to his uncompromising debut, though the term “sequel” should be taken with a big grain of salt, then perhaps washed down with a hot cup of maté.    

Bringing actor Saavedra back to the woods 25 years later, the film more or less begins where Freedom left off, with Misael still living on his own and chopping down trees all day long. He’s nearly twice his original age but still in great shape (it helps to live outdoors and work with your hands), though there have been some subtle changes since the last time we saw him.

For one, Misael now uses a gas-powered chainsaw along with his trusty axe, which allows him to smoothly slice the bark off the logs he cuts down. He also now sports a N.Y. Mets cap, which, whether consciously or not, is another sign of his enduring freedom: Who else would voluntarily choose to support the most disappointing franchise in baseball?

For the first 30 minutes, Double Freedom faithfully carries forward the structure and especially the aesthetic of the original film. Alonso and cinematographer Cobi Migliora elegantly frame Misael against the untouched landscape where he goes about his business felling trees, taking care of his dog, and, in a powerful opening image, cooking by fire at night while lighting illuminates the mountain range behind him.

Viewers looking for an inkling of a story may not survive these scenes, but Alonso’s fans will be pleased he hasn’t lost his edge. Others may take pleasure in a film that exists far from the digital hellscape most of us now live in: There’s not a single screen in Double Freedom except for the one we’re watching the movie on, which is something increasingly rare in contemporary cinema.

After the long set-up, which portends a trajectory similar to the first film, the director takes things in a surprising new direction. He tracks Misael as he finally leaves the woods with the help of a neighboring rancher’s pickup, then heads into town and stops at a gas station for cigarettes, making small talk with the attendant. Civilization exists after all!

From there he pays a visit to a local mental hospital, where we learn that Misael has a sister, Micaela (Catalina Saavedra, no relation to the lead actor), who’s been under full-time care for years. A doctor (Adrián Fondari) comes out to explain that the asylum is in the process of shutting down and discharging all its patients, suddenly leaving Micaela in Misael’s care. (Although politics are never mentioned, this seems like a nod to the colossal cuts in public spending made by wackadoo Argentine president Javier Mieli.)

The “double freedom” promised by the title thus takes on a double meaning in the film’s second half. Micaela finds herself re-entering society for the first time, while Misael, who’s spent much of his adult existence alone, must now welcome another person into his life. None of this is really expressed through dialogue or emotions, both of which are again kept to a minimum, but Alonso still finds ways to show how the new arrangement affects them both.

In the case of Micaela, who appears to have suffered a major trauma and takes heavy medication (“the drugs boiled her brain,” the doctor says), returning back to nature seems to do her well. She marvels at the birds and trees surrounding her brother’s cabin, as if she’s seeing such things for the first time. Misael, meanwhile, seems freaked out by all the pills he’s supposed to administer to his sister every day and night. He also doesn’t look thrilled he has to sleep outdoors to make room for his new guest.

These are rather understated events for normal audiences, but in the remote and unencumbered world of Alonso’s woodchopper, they arrive like major twists in an otherwise plotless movie. The question at that point in the narrative becomes: Is freedom still possible when you’re no longer alone?

Alonso ultimately answers this in a way that recalls his first film, making us wonder whether Misael’s hermetic existence hasn’t been hiding something more sinister. Or maybe the lonely logger just believes that everyone, including his own sister, should live as freely as he does.

Either way, Double Freedom posits that life is best lived on your own terms, with few concessions and compromises. This is, of course, the formula Alonso applies to his cinema as well, and of the many things one can try to read into his latest opus minimus, it’s easy to see this homage to personal liberty as only a vaguely concealed portrait of the auteur himself.