‘Double Freedom’ Review: Lisandro Alonso’s Return to Simplicity

“Double Freedom,” the latest by the Argentine auteur Lisandro Alonso, marks a return to the simplicity of his earliest works following the more complex likes of “Eureka,” his 2023 tripartite epic starring Viggo Mortensen. A direct sequel to his 2001 debut “Freedom,” an intriguingly noneventful observational drama about a man living in seclusion in the Pampas, “Double Freedom” seems to pick up where its predecessor left off: Its protagonist, Misael Saavedra (played by the nonprofessional actor of the same name, an Alonso regular), is still contentedly chopping wood, smoking cigs, and hanging out in his makeshift shack. He’s aged, but otherwise his life looks pretty much the same as it did 20-plus years ago. Alonso takes this opportunity to shake things up — albeit in a rigorously subtle fashion that will excite his experimentally-minded followers and likely alienate those interested in more traditional narratives.

As might be expected from one of Latin America’s most idiosyncratic innovators, the film’s title announces more than its obvious relationship to its predecessor. It’s also a bit of a mission statement: There are differences in repetition if you pay close enough attention to the details. Slightly tweaked callbacks to the 2001 film are sprinkled throughout “Double Freedom,” as in scenes where Misael takes a whizz or chomps on grilled meat placed roughly along the same timeline as the original. Long, patient takes devoid of nondiegetic elements immerse us in Misael’s rudimentary existence, with birdsong and cracking branches working together with DP Cobi Migliori’s handsome long-shot compositions to create a trancelike atmosphere.

Migliori shot “Freedom” as well as Alonso’s “Los Muertos” (2004), and with “Double Freedom,” he gives the film’s images a fuzzy DIY quality that harkens back to these earlier penny-pinched works — a notable strip-down given the scale and ambition of more recent entries in Alonso’s filmography, including 2014’s wonderfully peculiar 19th century western “Jauja,” his most widely acclaimed and accessible film to date. Given the director’s arthouse pedigree, this shift back to basics shouldn’t have much of an effect on “Double Freedom” finding a home with boutique distributors. 

Whatever pity we might feel for Misael’s barebones abode, the stretches of empty time he inhabits, is countered by his relaxed manner; the tranquility he exudes. Is Misael’s life boring? Perhaps, but Alonso’s attentive gaze reworks the meaning of excitement such that a banal exchange with the nearby farmhand, and a drive into the nearby village, provide minor thrills — that is, if you’re properly settled onto Alonso’s serenely sluggish wavelength. 

Arriving two years after Argentina’s far-right government took control of the country, enacting cutthroat austerity measures that have suspended public subsidies and put an end to investments in infrastructure, healthcare, and education — to say nothing of the ongoing threats to INCAA, the state’s TV and film body — “Double Freedom” also stands as a mournful comment on the state of the country. Halfway through the 100-minute film, a visit to a gloomy, near-vacant facility for the mentally impaired reunites Misael with his adult sister Catalina, played by professional Chilean actress Catalina Saavedra (“The Maid,” “Rotting in the Sun”), who is no relation to Misael in real life.

Catalina suffers from an unspecified mental disability, which Saavedra, who is not handicapped, performs in an arguably inappropriate register of fidgety hands and shifty-eyed glances. The asylum is closing down, Misael learns, forcing him to move his sister into his minuscule pad in the woods. The film covers the span of about two-and-a-half days in Misael’s life, so the whiplash of his sister’s arrival is felt instantly. Misael makes do by himself. But tending to two people reveals the fine line between freedom and precarity. 

Nevertheless, an underrated aspect of Alonso’s work is his dry sense of humor, which plays out here in the affectless performances and the blank time filled by awkward glances and pleasing animal appearances. (One particularly large dog delights). A degree of levity is achieved by this featherlight absurdity, which adds, if not hopefulness, at least humanity to the bleakness of the socioeconomic conditions so naturalistically built out. When “Freedom” premiered in the Un Certain Regard sidebar at Cannes in 2001, rumor has it that Alonso’s hand was forced to accept a cut of the film absent a crucial shot of Misael chuckling straight at the camera. Debuting his work for the first time in the festival’s independent Directors’ Fortnight section, Alonso — a Cannes regular who has yet to nab a Competition slot — calls back to that supposed snub if you stay through the credits. Now, Misael does indeed get his last laugh.