Much of the publicity around Monos, the audacious new film from bright you talent Alejandro Landes, has mentioned a few works as being fundamental in inspiring this film to come about, most notably Elem Klimov’s horrifying wartime odyssey Come and See and William Golding’s seminal coming-of-age horror adventure Lord of the Flies – these are such omnipotent texts, Landes even openly references them throughout the film at numerous points. However, anyone who has read some of my writing will know that there are few things I appreciate more than a well-constructed homage, and Landes certainly did that in abundance with Monos, a film that I had extremely high expectations for based on the work circulating about it, and was absolutely delighted to see it was every bit as fascinating as one would’ve expected from the high praise it’s received. A film that may be imperfect, and perhaps even hideous in both form and content (intentionally so, as is the case with some of the most harrowing works of cinema in history), Monos is a film that balances poignancy and horror in a way that indicates something much deeper simmering below the surface. Landes is adept at employing different stylistic concepts and narrative components in the creation of this utterly memorable film and turns in a bleak and unsettling coming-of-age story that feels both detached from reality, while still being anchored in a very familiar world, one that we may have only encountered in the media, whether through fictional representations or the evocative descriptions that come from those with first-hand experiences in such situations that make them powerful witnesses attesting to the truth of these circumstances – and forges a path for itself as a modern classic of gritty, realist drama that manages to be far more terrifying than even the most well-constructed horror films made in the past decade.

War is one of cinema’s favourite subjects – whether being truthful accounts based on real events or simply speculation based on well-known facts that give fictional representations some authenticity, countless filmmakers have channelled the wounds of war through their own unique perspective. Landes is one of the recent young cinematic upstarts that took on violent conflict as a means to explore the underlying terror of the world we live in. Situating this story in the desolate jungles and mountain peaks of what appears to be Colombia (although its never confirmed that the action is set here, but rather heavily implied), Landes is exploring one of the more fascinating, but underrepresented, areas of modern conflict, namely guerilla warfare, which has seen its place amongst newsreels and contemporary narratives, but perhaps not all that often in a manner as bleak as this. To further add his voice to this subject, Landes employs a very simple storyline that makes the intelligent decision to avoid overt moralizing or convoluted plot threads, as this would require this film to deviate from the central premise and attempt to either infuse some social message into the story or tie up any loose ends of plot that may not have been covered by the main line of questioning. Both would have been thoroughly unnecessary, and would’ve resulted in a film that is far less of an admirable achievement, mainly since its most significant merit, its unfurnished simplicity contrasted with harrowing violence, is the result of a peculiar but incredibly effective approach to the technique of portraying war on film, something that Landes seems to be keenly aware of, which immediately sets this apart from the more desolate portrayals of war seen throughout cinematic history.

Ambiguity is perhaps the most cherished weapon of this film, as not only does it prevent the film from being too predictable, but also makes this such a challenging experience for the viewer, who will not have any idea of what to expect from this story, even if we are well-versed in the genre of wartime drama. Monos starts as a film filled with questions and very few answers, and gradually uncovers some of the more burning issues, while leaving the more interesting ones concealed right to the end, never giving in to the temptation to provide the viewer with the answers we’re seeking. This may be frustrating for the casual viewer who wants a satisfying resolution, where all questions are answered by the end. Monos is not a film for those seeking a neat solution – instead, its a highly complex work, carefully-curated by a filmmaker whose unique perspective on reality makes for truly compelling viewing, even when it at its most harrowing. This film seems to be built on the idea of taunting the audience, much in the same way the titular “monos” (meaning “monkeys” in Spanish) taunt their hostage, who they treat as some absurd combination of a friendly visitor, and a beast that they keep locked away purely brought out to entertain or abuse, sometimes even in tandem. This is not a pleasant film – any director who cites his or her primary influence as being perhaps the most harrowing depiction of war ever captured on film is not intending to make something warm or endearing, and while it is certainly high praise, Monos earns every bit of comparative merit when looking at it alongside some of art’s most haunting representations of war – and for any viewer brave enough to undergo this terrifying journey, the path will be difficult and often quite disturbing, but becomes entirely worth it when looking back at the rich, evocative experience that is simply unlike any other one can have from a fiction work like this.

The best way to look at Monos is as a film perpetually governed by a very different kind of philosophical technique, one where the idea of subtlety or elegance are abandoned in favour of something far darker and bleaker, without it becoming entirely chaotic or unbearable. There’s an animalistic rage that underpins this film, informing each moment and converting every frame into something so contradictory – so hideous in form, but beautiful in what it represents. Landes employs a kind of terror that isn’t found all that often, one where the darker side of our species is put on full display, and where the barbarism we are capable of is made very clear, rather than concealed. The translation of this film’s title may sound humorous at first, until we realize how it speaks directly to these characters, and how they lack a kind of common humanity, without losing that trait of authenticity that keeps reminding us of the perverted evils we are capable of. Another work that informed Monos was Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness, a book that is certainly troubling from a modern perspective in its representations of race, but remains one of the most horrifying glimpses into the malicious qualities that every one of us is capable of being driven to, should the situation require it, which is something that Monos does very well, especially when focusing on the depths to which we can sink, and how our humanity can erode if we lose sight of it. Desperation breeds violence and evil, and this film centres on exploring the lengths to which we’ll be driven in times of survival. Ultimately, Monos is about a group of young people forced into a position of becoming villains, despite the fact that it’s very clear none of them wants to be associated with this life, especially as evident in the few scenes where they’re allowed to be children, such as in the joyful games they play in between moments of insidious violence, or in the haunting final shot, where the trauma compounds on the face of one of the young characters, who finally realizes how she has truly lost all her humanity, and the despair that comes in realizing she will never be able to lead a normal life.

Monos a beautifully complex exploration of these themes, and Landes truly understands that anyone can make an overly-violent, timely film about guerilla warfare, but that it takes someone with a precise understanding of the human condition to be able to eviscerate it in a way that is actually constructive, rather than just being unmitigated chaos. This is an inherently anarchic film from the outset, with the director oscillating between celebrating the animalistic freedom those who have foregone social conventions tend to feel in such situations, and horrifyingly bleak in the moments in which he depicts the harrowing conditions of their lives and the fact that they are now past the point of no return. It is a beautifully made film (the cinematography is absolutely stunning, with director of photography Jasper Wolf painting a tapestry of barbaric existence that is profoundly moving when it isn’t deeply unsettling), and one that lends to linger on in the mind of the viewer, who will either being petrified by what is depicted or mesmerized by how it so elegantly traverses a moral boundary in how it demonstrates a kind of reality that we know to be true but would prefer to not imagine. One of the most haunting coming-of-age films ever produced, and a terrifying account of a kind of warfare not often portrayed with this kind of honesty, Monos is nothing short of a visceral, unforgettable experience that is truly unwavering in its commitment to challenging conventions and becoming truly an astounding piece of contemporary filmmaking.