In Simón Mesa Soto’s “A Poet,” Oscár Restrepo (Ubeimar Rios) is a failed Columbian writer who keeps a photo of the author José Asunción Silva above his mantle. Silva died at age 30, and even Oscár would admit his own career would be a lot better if he had died young, too.
Mid-aged in Medellín, Oscár is unemployed, divorced and living with his mother (Margarita Soto). His case isn’t one of misunderstood genius, either. Oscár is prone to self-made disaster.
A more successful friend, Efraine (Guillermo Cardona), calls him “a walking problem.”
“You’re a poem,” Efraine tells him. “A pretty sad one.”
But in the pantheon of sad-sack protagonists, Oscár is a triumph. Rios, a nonprofessional actor who squints behind thick glasses and whose arms hang stubbornly low from his hunched shoulders, creates in Oscár a figure of farcical perfection: a tortured artist, equal parts comedy and tragedy.
There’s little that’s lyrical or beautiful about Oscár’s life. This is a guy who, on a rare visit to his teenage daughter (Alisson Correa), asks if he can borrow $10. At the same time, Oscár is a stout believer in the grandest ideals of art. Give him a drink, or a microphone, and he’ll soon be rhapsodizing about the power of “poesía.” For someone one step from the gutter, he’s comically high minded.
But it’s been decades since he was published. He declares: “I’m a poet.” His sister corrects: “You’re unemployed.” Yet Oscár manages to land a job teaching at a local high school. The students mostly laugh at him, but Oscár believes one, a soft-spoken young woman named Yurlady (Rebeca Andrade), shows tremendous potential. Redemption for Oscár is, maybe, at hand.
Yurlady, herself, doesn’t have any real literary ambitions. But Oscár, resolving to mentor her, helps her apply to Poetry Viva, a workshop for young writers run by Efraine, a smooth-talker acclaimed for his social issues writing. He’s the central foil to Oscár — a pompous but savvy achiever who urges Yurlady not to submit her simple from-the-heart poems but something about racism or poverty that will win over liberal-minded European judges.
In this, Soto’s film is an ironic allegory about art worlds beyond poetry. “A Poet” premiered at last year’s Cannes Film Festival, winning an award in the Un Certain Regard section. Soto first broke out in Cannes with a prize-winning short in 2014. In the intervening years, as a Colombian filmmaker, he’s surely encountered some stereotypical expectations. The film industry would no doubt be more welcoming to, say, a cartel tale from Soto then a Medellín-set, Woody Allen-like farce about an unsuccessful poet.
But while “A Poet” might remind you of some other films — one would be Cord Jefferson’s “American Fiction” — it is, like Oscár, steadfastly its own thing. Filmed on grainy 16mm, it’s even rough and dirty around the edges, as if the movie is wearing its protagonist’s clothes.
But if Soto’s film is loose and gritty, its satire is remarkably precise. This is a farce of creative life where the only pure artistic intention is a joke. Success belongs to hypocrites like Efraine. Yurlady’s working class family sees only a chance for money. But Oscár, for all his foolishness, is at least uncompromising. He's wrong about almost everything, except what really counts.
“A Poet,” a 1-2 Special release in theaters Friday, is unrated by the Motion Picture Association. In Spanish with English subtitles. Running time: 124 minutes. Three and a half stars out of four.
