Heli review – more like Hell

You have to hand it to Amat Escalante, who won the Best Director prize at Cannes in 2013 for this savage drug drama set in Mexico: he shows no restraint in depicting his native land as a scorched, near-apocalyptic wasteland where gangs roam without consequence and nobody can be trusted. Viewed now, six years after it was first met with a mixed critical reception for its unashamedly grim depiction of Mexican life and scenes of brutal violence, Heli still burns with an angry, incendiary power.

The story is one that spirals out of a mistake – an unforgivable act in Escalante’s hellish Mexico. When Heli (Armando Espitia), a young father living with his wife and son, learns his twelve-year-old sister Estela is involved with a seventeen-year-old named Beto, he tries to put an end to the romance. Later Beto, hoping to flee with Estela, hides packages of stolen cocaine he intends to sell in Heli’s water tank. When Heli discovers the packages, the film doesn’t afford him a Coen brothers-esque, “Should I keep them?” moral dilemma. Heli understands he has zero chance, so he disposes of the lot. Then the real owners – corrupt police? cartel? – arrive in search of the stolen stash, and all hell breaks loose.

I keep coming back to the word “hell” because the world Escalante renders in Heli bears no better comparison. The landscapes, dusty and barren, are littered with makeshift houses and battered cars. Occasionally we are treated to a moment of beauty, but even the most gorgeous sunset is viewed through cloud cover, as though to signal the end of days. The documentary-like shooting style, favouring long takes, makes it easy to see why Escalante took home that Best Director prize. You get the sense of a filmmaker in true control of his material; every scene is rendered with focus and precision.

There are moments here that even the most hardened viewer is sure to find wince-inducing. A nerve-shredding torture scene involving some very hot testicles is especially explicit, but more disturbing, perhaps, in its depiction of a violent act carried out in the most casual manner. Escalante’s point is clear: this is normal. The bad guys are desensitised. Later, less violent scenes linger with equal resonance: Heli’s encounter with an armoured vehicle at his home, for example, or the half-amusing, half-devastating moment when a female detective propositions him by simply taking out her breasts.

Many are certain see this vision of Mexico as needlessly bleak, to the point they might wonder what purpose a film like this serves. In my mind, Escalante is making a broader statement about the ways in which so many Mexican citizens must go about their ordinary, domestic lives against a backdrop of incredible violence and corruption. This microcosm of horror is an attempt to capture the anarchy and the unfairness that goes hand-in-hand with simply being born into this environment – especially in its cruel mistreatment of a 12-year-old girl.

But Escalante does show some restraint. Towards the end of Heli, the film almost seems to fizzle out on purpose, plot points semi-resolving themselves in ways that flirt with anticlimax. Is Escalante trying to undermine the expectations we tend to cling to with these kinds of revenge films? As the screen cuts to white and the credits roll, we know these characters will have to live with what they’ve experienced for the rest of their lives. But, Escalante knows, so will we.

★★★★☆

By: Tom Barnard

This film was screened at the Rio Cinema as part of the CASA Festival 2019, London’s Festival of Latin American Arts. For more showtimes head to our dedicated festival page.