o6 October 2016
The Clan
A film by Pablo Trapero
Making Money Where You Can
Reviewed by J.R.Thomas
Being of (somewhat distant) Scottish descent, I was delighted to see that this movie was on release in London; nothing like some tartanry, bagpipes, and misty Highlands to enliven an autumn evening. But Whisky Galore this was not; indeed not even Glasgow on a Saturday night. The Clan has nothing to do with Scotland at all, and everything to do with Argentina in the 1980’s. But there are similarities in the two cultures; a great emphasis on family, an understanding of the importance of money in making life jog along nicely, a tendency towards violence on occasion, yet combined with modest middle-class behaviour. No bagpipes though; the Argentinians have not yet adopted that most soulful of instruments to accompany their darker evenings – or darker thoughts.
The Clan is set in Buenos Aires at the end of the Galtieri regime, with Argentina struggling slowly back to democracy. It is pretty much an accurate representation of true events centred around the Puccio family, and one would sleep a great deal better for not knowing that. But it deals with themes and behaviours that many of us are uneasily aware of; we know that there are bad people out there and that most of them look disconcertingly normal. We just hope they don’t live next door.
The film, rather oddly, begins almost at the end. It then goes back to tell you why what happens at the end, happens. It is one of the few criticisms of the film that this device seems unnecessary, though perhaps offering comfort, of a sort, to nervous viewers. As we go back to start the tale we meet the Puccio family, a respectable middle class bunch from an inner Buenos Aires suburb, running a delicatessen. The head of the family, Arquimedes, is, though, otherwise engaged; most of his time is spent working undercover for the military regime’s secret service, rooting out alleged Communists and other threats to the welfare of the state. This does not bring him wealth, but it does give powerful links within the government and security services, access to all areas, and respect and standing.
His family are doing well, his eldest son Alex a rapidly rising rugby star, his younger children flourishing at school – apart from one son who has vanished overseas and does not wish to return. We soon find out why. Arquimedes is intelligent and coldly charming, an astute observer of how life is changing and that his current employment is likely to reduce, and with that, the privileges and respect that he so much enjoys. So, he has begun a new business that he hopes will make him rich, so that if he cannot move within the circles that appreciate his power, he will be able to buy his way in there. The Pucchio’s will become rich. Those of you who have a certain degree of ambition will understand his reasoning and applaud his logic. But you may not applaud his chosen new business opening. He has gone into the kidnapping and extortion business. One cannot even give the usual excuse – “well, someone has to do it”. Nobody has to go into the kidnapping lark, or to conduct it as it is run by Arquimedes. His previous connections make victim selection easy and he engages his family, and a couple of burly mates, to maximise his opportunities and returns, and to provide impeccable cover.
This, remember, is based closely on true events. Mr Pucchio is a ruthless man indeed; but if you lived next door, and did not hear the screams coming from the Pucchio basement, you would consider he and his family perfectly agreeable neighbours, standard professional types, with nice children, whether in a Buenos Aires suburb or, say, Islington. Puccio paterfamilias is played by Guillermo Francello, a comedian most of the time, absolutely and convincingly excelling as the ambitious cold businessman building his new cash producing enterprise. Here he is criminal, but in slightly different circumstances he would be a law abiding citizen, though one you might find a formidable opponent when negotiating a deal. In truth, these characters are all people we probably know, have had dealings with, have chatted to at parties and stood next to at the rugger match. Pucchio is loving to his family, rather puzzled by the son who will not return to join the enterprise, keen for his daughter to get on with her homework, and properly appreciative of his wife – who seems unperturbed by one of the family bathrooms being out of bounds for days at a time. What the film is saying to us, and we may well not like it, is that criminals are just like us, except when extorting with extreme violence. They love their families, reward their employees well, give praise and advice. They may be tough – but so are lots of successful business and professional folk when in the office.
As the film progresses, it digs into not just the Pucchio family, but into the complex politics of a state which was moving from a failed and vicious dictatorship to attempting to become a democracy – a difficult voyage that is far from over yet. There are strong suggestions that the police knew what Pucchio was up to; why they did not intervene is not made at all clear, but remember the times; nobody knew what might happen next, who might be the masters and who the oppressed. Pucchio had a lot of access; a man with his hooded eyes and calm nature knew without doubt where the bodies were buried – literally. The authorities, then or now, did not want to dig too deep.
The director is a leading Argentinian film maker, Pablo Trapero, whose films have in the past tended to make political comment but with less subtlety than here. He examines Buenos Aires society with a calm eye that is much more chilling than an action thriller would have been; he is puzzling over a family that knew what was going on but seems to have almost persuaded themselves that they didn’t. Is the need to acquire large amounts of money a trumping of morality, in a society that is amoral, or at least has been? Is it in order to take money from people who may themselves have acquired it in ways that would not be available in a normal liberal democracy? If you have a loving generous father that brings his children up well, does that offer any form of mitigation – to you as the child; to him as the father?
The Clan does not answer these questions, but it asks them. Which after all is what good writing, good film making, and good theatre should do. You can supply the answers.
The film is not without flaws; the subtitling is poor; which seems to be a growing trend. Are film makers loading everything into Google translate and hoping the audience get the gist? There are a few flaws in the plot – can one of the children really, genuinely, have not known what was going on? A complex kidnapping involving Alex as faux victim would surely have led to immediate questions? And most of all, what did the police know of the Pucchio business; and what made them start to take an interest in Arquimedes’ activities? Did the money not flow as previously; or did they realise that the times were changing; or did the family kidnap somebody whose access was even better than Sr Pucchio’s?
This is a fascinating film, which will leave you perhaps a little morally confused. And wary about that family next door, so charming, but a little private, and given to keeping the curtains drawn.
“The Clan” is on London release at the moment; showing at most Curzon’s and other independent cinemas. In Spanish, with English sub-titles. Runs 1 hour 50 minutes
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