Review: Azor
Azor is a story about Omerta, the Sicilian code of silence, a popular methodology used by the mob. In the film, the mob is the upper-class citizenry of Argentina. Yvan De Wiel (Fabrizio Rongione) and other Swiss bankers working for the upper echelons are the consiglieres of this said mob, managing and mollifying the fears and navigating the elegant but tension-filled world of politics and finance.
The film takes place in Argentina in the ‘80s when Operation Condor is in full swing. The military junta is at the peak of its power, a supposed agent of neoliberalism financed by the ultimate vanguard of capitalism, the United States. But the outside world, with its blood-soaked violence, is only hinted at, shown via people detained on the streets. Our protagonist and his wife Ines (Stephanie Cleau) glide through the world wearing costly suits and drinking costlier wine amidst landowners in the pampas, scions of business families, military officers, and even members of the clergy. De Wiel and his wife navigate the worlds of this nouveau riche and the classical bourgeoisie while searching for the missing partner of his bank, whom he has come to replace. This partner, Rene Keys, has disappeared and never appears in person on screen; however, he is a recurring presence throughout the movie through snippets of conversations. Those conversations, which reveal a multifaceted individual, are a clear source of discomfort for De Wiel. His determination to complete what Keys couldn’t do is present throughout the narrative, changing his character from a reactive to an aggressive persona.
From a theoretical standpoint, Azor should work. The primary issue is the pacing of the film and the closeted nature of the screenplay. Having seen the movie, that closed-off nature of the screenplay feels intentional. For example, the disappearance of Keys is treated as the central mystery and never clearly answered—an intentional obfuscation. Azor is far more interested in exploring the methods of the upper classes to maintain the lifestyle they currently have, feeding on the morass that is capitalism; while around them, the world continues to revolt and burn. It is remarkable how the relatively unchanging nature of the upper class is mirrored in the dealings of our protagonist. The professional veneer and the grueling task of clearly maintaining that façade, while morality and ethics slowly die, are explored in the reservations in De Wiel’s expressions. Rongione brings a reserved charisma to the role, a sharp contrast to what Keys was supposed to be. At the end of the day, the movie moves at too languid a pace to offer a suitable touch of tension. His character is too reactive to exhibit any agency until Ines utters, “Fear makes you mediocre.” This line propels Weil’s character forward and manages to jumpstart my attention. The simplicity of that line is effective in developing our protagonist as a more active character in the story. It also fleshes out the insidious nature of Ines as a character suited to remain on the sidelines and maintain the image of the sophisticated, supportive wife for her husband; while also helping him steer through sticky issues of morality. A far more reserved version of Lady Macbeth, Ines is a delectable character to look out for.
Despite rolling out these interesting layers, Azor is beautiful but ultimately aimless carousing through the boardrooms and orchards of Argentinian royalty. The undercurrent of tension was so low that it could not hold my interest throughout the proceedings, even as the cinematography and the score worked hard in convincing me otherwise. It is only towards the end, when De Weil meets the final client, that the story ultimately makes sense. It’s Dante’s Inferno through the lens of elegantly constructed high finance, where every client that De Wiel meets is a representation of the various stages of Hell. Keys being Colonel Kurtz in De Weil's journey through the Heart of Darkness, Azor pays homage to Coppola’s The Godfather and Apocalypse Now in interestingly subdued ways. The result, however, is a film of ideas, a film dedicated to the exploration of silence as evil proliferates the world around you; although, none of these ideas constructs a tightly wound, tension-filled thriller. Azor is still beautiful to look at; the production and art design help reconstruct a world of decadence, full of expensive liquor and thick cigarette smoke billowing through the backdoors of cold business dealings. Hell hasn’t looked more inviting than this.
