The Box: A Mexican Boy's Search For His Father's Remains Speaks Volumes in Few Words
By Jim Slotek
Rating: A-
Lorenzo Vigas’ The Box is a slow burn with violent fire barely contained in its narrative cauldron. Awash in ambiguity, it dishes out revelations with an eye dropper.
A chapter of Mexico’s modern murderous history, told through the eyes of a grimly silent, determined boy, The Box paints a picture of a country where the unthinkable has achieved normalcy.
When we meet young Hatzin (neophyte actor Hatzín Navarrete), he is in a bus on a mission from his grandmother, his only living relative. In a grimly sterile Northern town, a box awaits that ostensibly contains the ashes of his long missing father, found in a mass grave.
What is startling about Navarrete’s performance is that his dark expression hardly changes throughout the movie. But events around him lead the audience to surmise what he’s feeling. If there is some sense of closure in the unmarked box, it is swiftly snuffed out when, on a stop in a small town, he sees a man who closely resembles the single photo of his father he carries with him.
The resemblance is certain enough, as far as Hatzin is concerned, for him to conclude that the box does not contain his father. And that father he never knew resides in a small factory town in the Mexican desert.
The object of his patrimony is a man named Mario (Hernán Mendoza), who insists he is not the boy’s father, and that he get back on the bus. When Hatzin remains, he grudgingly buys him a meal, and tries driving him to the next bus stop.
Again, Hatzin will not be dissuaded from his conclusion. Mario, it turns out, is outwardly a village hero, rounding up cash-poor locals to work in nearby factories and giving small gifts to the local children.
And, while not admitting to being anyone other than himself, he soon discovers that Hatzin is adept with numbers, and can spot discrepancies in the paperwork Mario’s clients give him. This is the point where we get a closer look at the less-than-ethical business Mario is involved in.
Hatzin’s math-wizardry is enough of a job qualification for Mario to begin to adopt the role of surrogate father. But his attention to detail soon opens his eyes to his “dad’s” real world. Whereas he saw Mario being cheated by clients, he also soon became aware of the extent to which Mario cheated his workers.
And worse. One night Hatzin is dragged out into the night to help Mario bury a body. He doesn’t need to add two and two to conclude that the body is that of a fiercely independent young woman he’d befriended on one of the labourer bus trips.
As is the case with Navarrete’s performance throughout, we are left wondering about the boy’s moral compass. Is his newfound love for a lost father stronger than the obviously sinister lifestyle that goes with it? Hatzin begins making strange decisions that leave the viewer wondering even more.
It really is an accomplishment, especially for an acting newcomer, to carry an entire film while speaking, at most, a page or two of dialogue.
The mystery of what goes on in his head is counterpointed by Venezuelan director Vigas’ stark desert filming. The Box is, by turns, a glance at Mexico’s dark underbelly, and the lure of going-along-to-get along in a morally dysfunctional place.
The Box. Directed by Lorenzo Vigas. Stars Hatzin Navarrete and Hernán Mendoza. Streams on Mubi and on pay-per-view.