New Order (2020) Review
“Como va el negocio.”
I saw the preview for “New Order,” when I went to go see Wrath of Man, I must admit I was sold on the civil unrest depicted in the film. Namely, because I’ve been itching to find my way back to Mexican cinema. A week later, the film hit theaters in my city.
The 88-minute film is a prime example of endurance cinema — it’s a marathon of misery — that tests its walk-out ability with audiences. It is an unflinching, unapologetic, and unnerving experience that operates within lots of ambiguity. While director Michel Franco admits to embracing that ambiguity within his work in an interview with Variety, it works against the merits of the film.
The film tackles social disparity and the ramifications that result from it when the matter reaches a boiling point and martial law takes over. It’s what was advertised, it’s why you chose to attend the film, but it only serves as the story’s backdrop. The real subject at the heart of the film is corruption, with an underlying theme of selfishness.
There’s a moment at the beginning of the film, where Victor, a police chief (it’s unclear what position of power he is in, but he is law enforcement), played stoically by Enrique Singer, receives intel while attending a wedding that he must depart immediately because it is not safe. Instead of fulfilling his duty to protect and serve, by sharing this intel with everyone in attendance of said party, he instead opts to save only himself and his family. He opts to put everyone at risk and in danger of ensuing events. This cleverly and effortlessly displays the privilege power buys you.
Franco’s story positions the bride to be, Marianne, portrayed warmly by Naian González Nerving, as a compassionate figure who showed decency and acted on the behalf of others, to get you to stay until the film's conclusion. She is the heart of the story, and without her, it doesn’t function. Without her, it’s easy to walk out or turn off the film at home. Franco doesn’t reward your patience however, he only twists the knife. We see this poor woman be put in a military detention camp, and we bare witness to the atrocities of sexual harassment that can only spark images of the internment camps around the world today.
In an interview with Screen Daily, director Michel Franco admits to embracing a style that requires minimal resources, this means no music, little dialogue, and no camera movements. I suppose the lack of music adds to a sense of anxiety within audience members, but I find that music elevates all films and is a crucial component, one that is achingly missing here.
The film only manages to make you angrier as it unfolds. It’s also by design, Franco wants to share his anger with you. Everyone knows the Mexican government is corrupt, and if you didn’t know, it's alluded to in the film's opening.
The best trick the film plays is towards the end when it leads you to believe justice will be served, and only the privileged can afford it. Because at that moment, it is Franco twisting the knife one last time, and you are gutted to be reminded that the narrative is shaped by the powerful, framed to be whatever they need it to be.
The film proves that the real monsters are the police, the lawyers, the judges — the people we are supposed to trust — they’re all in it together. It rings loud and clear as we see innocent people die by the film's conclusion. Their corruption is fueled by greed, and it makes you ponder the realities of the disruption of the social class. The dismantling of the government isn’t romanticized here, and it likely would not be gentle to the innocent—blood would be spilled on both sides.
A “New Order” is not a pleasant ride, nor is it intended to be, it is however a cautionary tale of what is to come if people decide to do something about those that oppress us.
