For a film about documentarians, the biggest takeaway from Amalia Ulman’s “Magic Farm” might be that the world doesn’t need more documentaries. Or, at the very least, it doesn’t need any more of the gonzo-adjacent, Vice-inspired “We Sent Six Dysfunctional Idiots to a Third World Country” documentaries that its characters devote their lives to making. At a certain point, who can really argue with that?
A charming satire about the endless capacity for lying found in people who ostensibly devote their lives to telling the truth, “Magic Farm” is a deceptively leisurely film. It overflows with big ideas on topics ranging from exploitative media to the sexual politics of casual hookups to corporate farming and the health crises it creates. But rather than hit audiences over the head with messaging (or even plot), the film unfolds through a series of relaxed conversations between a crew of bull-in-a-china-shop filmmakers and the South American villagers they’re cluelessly hoping to document. But few lines are wasted, and every quiet misunderstanding builds towards a richer portrait of dysfunction that says more about humanity than anything these misguided documentarians could ever make.
Existing somewhere on a spectrum between travel journalism and internet prank shows, Creative Lab is the kind of company that produces media for the most insufferable people you know. Led by host and de facto showrunner Edna (Chloë Sevigny), the motley crew of Brooklyn media types travel the world seeking oddball stories ranging from pop culture to the occult. Their latest project is a profile on a South American singer who has gone viral for videos of him performing with bunny ears on. Edna and her team of producers fly to the Argentine town of San Cristóbal with the hope of interviewing him — only to find out that there are quite a few South American towns called San Cristóbal, and they went to the wrong one.
The unambiguous fuck-up is a good metaphor for the team’s blatant disregard for any of the subcultures they claim to celebrate. Without any immediate lodging — the hotel lost their reservations and their local contact is unreachable because she forgot her Facebook password — the crew crams into two rooms in a small “family-friendly” hotel and tries to find a journalistic justification for the trip and a vape charger that’s compatible with South American power outlets (but not in that order).
The crew’s Spanish interpreter (played by Ulman herself) begins speaking with local families, and it turns out there is something worth making a documentary about in this San Cristóbal. Local children and teenagers are growing up with a range of moderate to severe birth defects caused by glyphosates sprayed on produce on the corporate farms that border the village.
But rather than report on that — which, to be fair, would require a bit of digging as many villagers are content to lie to the filmmakers while overcharging them for basic services — the fine minds behind Creative Lab decide they’re better off staging a fictional documentary about a nonexistent music trend using the locals as props. When Edna hesitates, citing her preference not to exploit any locals, her vape-guzzling partner Dave (Simon Rex) tells her that she went into the wrong business.
With candy-colored production design that almost feels like what might have happened if Wes Anderson was medicated too early in his childhood and an ensemble cast that’s eager to poke fun at themselves, “Magic Farm” is a fun indie diversion that offers plenty of reason to believe its director has bigger things in her future. For some viewers, it will be too meandering and unfocused, a sign of a talented filmmaker who hasn’t quite figured out how to direct her brilliance effectively. It’s fair to argue that it has too much to say without taking the time to properly develop its points.
But taken as a series of sketches with varying seriousness, the film works as an enjoyable media satire with the occasional genuinely funny moment. Slight encounters like a woman asking a hotel manager for bug spray, only for him to be dismayed when he doesn’t want to spray Raid directly onto her skin, are more effective than any of the more ambitious satire that the film attempts. Its characters might be preoccupied with trying to find the most outlandish subcultures on planet earth, but “Magic Farm” persuasively argues that the daily mundanities of being human are more than absurd enough on their own.
Grade: B
A Mubi release, “Magic Farm” opens in theaters on Friday, April 25.
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