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A review by emlocke
Clandestine in Chile by Gabriel García Márquez
4.0
Some of the impulsive risks that Littín takes seem almost as arbitrary and irrational as Pinochet's imposed curfew and los carabineros who demand to see a person's documents (including the clandestine filmmaker's false IDs and legitimate permits) only to give them a dismissive glance. Knowing the danger, why would he go to all the trouble to prepare as thoroughly and with as much innovation as he did only to deviate so frequently and so dramatically from the plan?
CLANDESTINE IN CHILE is not about Chile under the regime, or even about the making of a documentary about Chile under the regime. It's about Littín's return from exile to a country he does recognize and does not recognize, as himself but not as himself. He's excited to realize "how much the young hand changed," and calculates that "children who were ten years old when [he] left, and scarcely capable of appreciating the magnitude of the catastrophe, where now twenty-two. The elementary school children of Salvador Allende's time are now the resistance commanders." But he doesn't witness or even hear many direct reports about recent government atrocities. He seems to sense that more than a decade of repression has allowed most everyone to become complacent—civilians, law enforcement, and government officials alike. The most severe danger, the most alarming threats, have passed. Pinochet's violent system of deterrence is carried out underground and the resistance operates that way, too.
But Littín—the real Littín, who wears a beard and a jacket lined with rabbit fur—still feels the fresh terror of being run out of the country. His outrage and impulse to rebel are reawakened and brought to the surface instantly and intensely. That's why he can't resist the impulses to dispense with elaborate passwords, deviate from the itinerary, and strike up conversations about architecture with carabineros just for kicks.
CLANDESTINE IN CHILE is not about Chile under the regime, or even about the making of a documentary about Chile under the regime. It's about Littín's return from exile to a country he does recognize and does not recognize, as himself but not as himself. He's excited to realize "how much the young hand changed," and calculates that "children who were ten years old when [he] left, and scarcely capable of appreciating the magnitude of the catastrophe, where now twenty-two. The elementary school children of Salvador Allende's time are now the resistance commanders." But he doesn't witness or even hear many direct reports about recent government atrocities. He seems to sense that more than a decade of repression has allowed most everyone to become complacent—civilians, law enforcement, and government officials alike. The most severe danger, the most alarming threats, have passed. Pinochet's violent system of deterrence is carried out underground and the resistance operates that way, too.
But Littín—the real Littín, who wears a beard and a jacket lined with rabbit fur—still feels the fresh terror of being run out of the country. His outrage and impulse to rebel are reawakened and brought to the surface instantly and intensely. That's why he can't resist the impulses to dispense with elaborate passwords, deviate from the itinerary, and strike up conversations about architecture with carabineros just for kicks.