Writer-director Pablo Larraín, best known for his trilogy “Jackie,” “Spencer” and “Maria,” makes his Argentinian debut with “Mis Tristes,” based on three stories by Argentinian writer Mariana Enriquez. The series is directed by Mercedes Moran. Moran, Dolores Fonzi, Alejandra Flechner and Carolina Álvarez.
Netflix’s four-part miniseries, produced by Larraín’s brother Juan de Dioas Larraón and their label Fabula, was turned into a nearly three-hour feature film version to compete for the Golden Shell Award in the official San Sebastian competition.
The story revolves around Emma (Morland), a recently retired doctor with the ability to see and hear the voices of the dead. She is haunted by her mother’s death and her unfinished business. When her niece Julie arrives and three teenagers are murdered in the violence-ridden neighborhood of Piedra Buena, something strange begins to unfold, tearing the fragile boundaries between the living and the dead. What was once Emma’s burden has become everyone’s nightmare. The dead are making their voices heard – no one can escape their ghosts.
during an interview type in san sebastian, Larraín and Enriquez co-wrote their adaptation with Chilean playwrights Guillermo Calderon (co-writer of “Club,” “Neruda” and “Conde”) and Anastasia Ayaz (“Patagonia”).
Mariana, what inspired you to write these stories? Are they purely from your imagination or inspired by events and people you know?
Enriquez: Like Emma, my mother was a doctor and had worked in a public hospital, and the communities in the book were based on real communities. It’s different, but very similar to my idea of the periphery of the city, a forgotten place. Many of the violent situations are real situations that, with some twist, are more or less fictional. Of course, a woman who can speak to the dead is fictional, but it’s not far from reality.
But these stories about women or people who can talk to the dead – do you actually know the people who see them?
Enriquez: My aunt used to see my grandmother everywhere. My mom was weird, she smelled something and it was weird. For example, she would be here and suddenly smell gasoline. This means a few things. It’s not that the car will explode, but the smell shouldn’t be there. This is not a hallucinatory smell. It reminded her that something was going on. My aunts are more straightforward, like hell or something.
How did you come up with the character of the niece who has sex with a ghost?
Enriquez: Well, I’m very interested in genre in general. There was a famous movie from the 1980s called The Entity, which was a horror movie about a woman who was visited by a ghost and had sex with the ghost. You can see the hands touching her, there’s a really cool special effect, but it’s not consensual. I remember watching it with great dismay, and for years I thought: What if this was consensual? I started thinking about saints who said they were married to the Holy Spirit, and the idea of women being able to touch each other and actually have a physical relationship with them—not a relationship of fear, in a way, but a relationship of joy, ecstasy, sanity.
Pablo, this is your first time filming in Argentina, how was the experience?
Lalan: Argentina is our neighbor, of course, but growing up I was always more aware of our differences than our similarities. And then there comes a time when things change. I’ve been to Argentina, traveled all over the country, and I know it very well, especially Buenos Aires. But by doing that, working there, and really looking around the city and engaging with the locals, the local staff, everyone, I started to understand that there were a lot more things that were similar than things that were different. Have a lot in common. It’s fascinating. In a way, I really felt at home. I know this is obvious to foreigners – they look at South America and think they must be very similar. But for me, discovering that was a complete process.
A few weeks ago I interviewed Gael García Bernal, who has worked with you on several films [“No,” “Ema”, “Neruda”] He said he admired your fearlessness in filmmaking – this ‘let’s just give it our all’ attitude. Let’s try it. Let’s break it down. Would you like to comment on this?
Lalan: Well, he was so kind and generous. He’s my friend, so I understand that, but I don’t think so. I work in a way that feels comfortable. For example, when we approached Mariana and said, “Are you okay?” Will you join us? Do you want to be part of this adaptation? I really connected with her narrative and wanted to try to somehow express visually what she had written. You could call it an adaptation, but the transition from book to visual representation is very relevant.
What did you find to be the most challenging and interesting aspect of this project?
Lalan: I do think there’s something very beautiful and very unusual about sound space, there’s a lot that’s relevant to the story that we don’t see, but only hear. It’s huge, very unusual, very challenging, especially knowing that most people will be seeing this on TV. Anything that’s not in the picture but has a sound that’s relevant to the story is really interesting to me. I think that’s one of the most challenging things: bringing something that’s never been seen in the story into the sonic space.
I think what I’m really interested in, and maybe discovered later in the process, is that when we talk about dead people, our memories of them, and how we experience them – whether we feel them, remember them in dreams, see them or hear them – it’s always from the perspective of the living.
I think what Mariana finds in this narrative is that now we begin to understand what it was like for the dead to claim their presence and say, “Hey, I’m here.” They also say, “Please, I need your attention.” So, it’s interesting because now we know a lot more about them. To have compassion for them, I think is very kind.