Barreda
The most disturbing thing about Barreda is not that it turns its central figure into an obvious monster, but that it watches him manufacture a story in which he tries to occupy the place of the victim. Very early on, there is that way of talking about household duties, everything he supposedly did for others, how much he endured and how badly he felt he was treated. The film hardly needs to underline the mechanism: the more he explains himself, the worse he comes across.
Daniela Goggi is right not to treat the story merely as a reconstruction of a criminal case. What is truly interesting is the way a person can rearrange events to justify the unjustifiable and, above all, how a society can end up finding a comfortable narrative around someone who does not deserve one. At that point, the film stops being only about one man and starts being about those who listen, repeat, turn things into jokes or transform a deeply sinister story into popular folklore.
Luis Machín is essential. His performance avoids excess, which makes the character even more repellent. He does not need to shout constantly or look like a villain who knows he is one. He is most effective when conveying self-pity, resentment, pettiness and the private conviction that everything that happens to him must have an explanation that favors him. That ability to present selfishness as suffering is probably the film's strongest element.
The screenplay handles selective memory well. Every version of events seems contaminated by whoever is telling it, forcing us to distrust any explanation that feels too neat. The film appears interested not only in what happened, but in who later gained the right to tell the story and why certain versions proved so easy to accept.
There is also something uncomfortable in the social dimension of the film. The transformation of a real figure into an almost folkloric character says as much about the surrounding culture as it does about the man himself. Humor, voyeurism, misogyny and media fascination can gradually wear down the seriousness of what happened until tragedy becomes entertainment. The film has the most personality when it moves into that territory.
Carla Peterson, Mercedes Morán and the rest of the cast help prevent the story from being completely hijacked by its central figure. That matters because one obvious danger of true crime is giving all the attention back to the best-known figure in the case. Barreda tries to recover other perspectives and remind us that around any story built from the center of the case there are people who are reduced, silenced or distorted by that same narrative.
Formally, the film has interesting moments, although its fragmented structure does not always become genuine tension. Shifts in time, perspective and reconstruction enrich the portrait, but there are also passages where the film loses momentum. At times the psychological intention is stronger than the suspense, and the whole thing becomes somewhat flat.
That is probably my main problem with it. The film has an extremely powerful subject and a central figure who provokes immediate rejection, but the staging does not always find an equally powerful way to develop those elements. Some passages feel too close to conventional streaming crime drama: competent, well acted and easy to follow, but less daring than the material could support.
I also do not think the film ever truly explains —nor does it need to— how someone like this is psychologically formed. Whenever it comes too close to searching for clean causes, it becomes less interesting. I prefer it when it shows contradiction, self-deception and manipulation without trying to close the character with a simple label.
The best thing about Barreda is its refusal to simply accept the protagonist's version of himself. The man who keeps insisting on how much he did, endured and suffered becomes more unpleasant the longer he speaks because the film keeps visible the distance between the image he wants to sell and what that image conceals. It does not need to turn him into a caricature; listening to him is enough.
The result is solid rather than extraordinary. There are strong performances, an interesting social perspective and some formal choices that lift the material, but also a somewhat conventional structure and uneven tension. More than fascination with the case, what remains is disgust at how easily someone can try to claim the role of victim — and at how willing a society can sometimes be to help him do it.
Daniela Goggi is right not to treat the story merely as a reconstruction of a criminal case. What is truly interesting is the way a person can rearrange events to justify the unjustifiable and, above all, how a society can end up finding a comfortable narrative around someone who does not deserve one. At that point, the film stops being only about one man and starts being about those who listen, repeat, turn things into jokes or transform a deeply sinister story into popular folklore.
Luis Machín is essential. His performance avoids excess, which makes the character even more repellent. He does not need to shout constantly or look like a villain who knows he is one. He is most effective when conveying self-pity, resentment, pettiness and the private conviction that everything that happens to him must have an explanation that favors him. That ability to present selfishness as suffering is probably the film's strongest element.
The screenplay handles selective memory well. Every version of events seems contaminated by whoever is telling it, forcing us to distrust any explanation that feels too neat. The film appears interested not only in what happened, but in who later gained the right to tell the story and why certain versions proved so easy to accept.
There is also something uncomfortable in the social dimension of the film. The transformation of a real figure into an almost folkloric character says as much about the surrounding culture as it does about the man himself. Humor, voyeurism, misogyny and media fascination can gradually wear down the seriousness of what happened until tragedy becomes entertainment. The film has the most personality when it moves into that territory.
Carla Peterson, Mercedes Morán and the rest of the cast help prevent the story from being completely hijacked by its central figure. That matters because one obvious danger of true crime is giving all the attention back to the best-known figure in the case. Barreda tries to recover other perspectives and remind us that around any story built from the center of the case there are people who are reduced, silenced or distorted by that same narrative.
Formally, the film has interesting moments, although its fragmented structure does not always become genuine tension. Shifts in time, perspective and reconstruction enrich the portrait, but there are also passages where the film loses momentum. At times the psychological intention is stronger than the suspense, and the whole thing becomes somewhat flat.
That is probably my main problem with it. The film has an extremely powerful subject and a central figure who provokes immediate rejection, but the staging does not always find an equally powerful way to develop those elements. Some passages feel too close to conventional streaming crime drama: competent, well acted and easy to follow, but less daring than the material could support.
I also do not think the film ever truly explains —nor does it need to— how someone like this is psychologically formed. Whenever it comes too close to searching for clean causes, it becomes less interesting. I prefer it when it shows contradiction, self-deception and manipulation without trying to close the character with a simple label.
The best thing about Barreda is its refusal to simply accept the protagonist's version of himself. The man who keeps insisting on how much he did, endured and suffered becomes more unpleasant the longer he speaks because the film keeps visible the distance between the image he wants to sell and what that image conceals. It does not need to turn him into a caricature; listening to him is enough.
The result is solid rather than extraordinary. There are strong performances, an interesting social perspective and some formal choices that lift the material, but also a somewhat conventional structure and uneven tension. More than fascination with the case, what remains is disgust at how easily someone can try to claim the role of victim — and at how willing a society can sometimes be to help him do it.
Mini Review: The most disturbing thing about Barreda is not that it turns its central figure into an obvious monster, but that it watches him manufacture a story in which he tries to occupy the place of the victim. Very early on, there is that way of talking about household duties, everything he supposedly did for others, how much he endured and how badly he felt he was treated. The film hardly needs to underline the mechanism: the more he explains himself,...
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