Double Freedom

Twenty-five years have elapsed since Argentine auteur Lisandro Alonso’s debut film La libertad emerged as an instant landmark of international cinema. His day-in-the-life portrait of a young man’s humble, solitary, yet seemingly fulfilled life in La Pampa proved to be an invigorating rejection of traditional narrative.

Now, with Double Freedom (La libertad doble), Alonso rejoins the stoic, noticeably older Misael (non-professional Misael Saavedra), still living the same life of cutting and supplying wood, and sheltering in a makeshift abode, surrounded by tall trees shimmering in the blazing sun. Less follow-up or sequel than a sly and clever echo — one need not have seen the first one to experience the wonders here — the film begins where La libertad looped in on itself, with a shirtless Misael enjoying wild game over an open flame. Shot on 35mm in both instances by Cobi Migliora (this time in widescreen), there is a pervasive uncanniness that attends Double Freedom, tethered not only to the large gap in time but also to cinematic memory. 

We learn that Misael has a long-institutionalized sister Misaela (Catalina Saavedra, no relation) who will soon be released due to governmental austerity measures forcing the closure of her caretaking clinic, meaning she will require housing and around-the-clock supervision. As each sibling is forced to grapple with their new circumstances, the film’s quietly moving depiction of care invites a meditation on freedom (who has it? how can it be obtained or maintained?) and our complicated contemporary moment, all portrayed with incomparable clarity, grace, and luminous beauty. 

ANDRÉA PICARD