Every artist finds themselves in pursuit of something elusive – whether a particular project or to attain a specific status within their field, there’s a sense of urgency that comes with any artistic endeavour. The desire for fame is one of the most destructive and can often lead to unintentional challenges, from which recovery can sometimes be difficult. This becomes even more notable when peddling in a kind of art that blurs the lines between fiction and reality, which is what we find at the foundation of Magic Farm, the extraordinary sophomore directorial outing of Amalia Ulman, who co-stars in the film, which centres around a group of documentary filmmakers who have achieved a small amount of notoriety for their content, particularly a series in which their host, a volatile and foul-tempered woman who would much rather luxuriate in splendour than spend every waking moment chasing after peculiar sub-cultures that her network has determined audiences are interested in seeing, and assisted by a crew populated by a trio of young people who are equally as ambivalent to this pursuit. When they discover a potential subject in Argentina, they set off to create their latest masterpiece, only to realise that they have somehow ended up about as far from their destination as they could get while remaining within the general geographical region. Forced to rework their plans, the group plunges itself into the heart of South American culture, experiencing many peculiar eccentricities and getting to know the people that populate this small, quaint town that has seemingly spent its entire existence being only a footnote in comparison to the bigger and supposedly more interesting cities. Egos collide, lessons are learned (often the hard way) and new insights are earned, all contained in an uproariously funny and unquestionably original work that once again proves that Ulman – much like several of her peers – is a vibrant, unique artistic voice, and one of the many gifted young directors to emerge from the ongoing independent movement that seeks new stories and perspectives, relishing in the stunning, daring results.

While it may seem relatively straightforward on the surface, Magic Farm is a film with several complex themes, which may come as something of a surprise considering its structure doesn’t necessarily imply that it’s a particularly complicated work. Ulman understands the scope of what she is dealing with, and as a native Argentinian herself, has an incentive to present an image of her country and its people that is both respectful and interesting, which is the very core from which this film is constructed. The impetus for the film – or rather what we see as the spark that ignited its fascinating narrative – was to examine the events that occur when a group of artists believe that they have the right to infiltrate communities outside their own, descending on small towns with the sole purpose of using their residents and their traditions as fodder for whatever mindless content they are putting out in the world. It’s a cynical perspective, but one that the director uses as the inspiration for what flourishes into one of the darker and more complex satires of the past couple of years. Using the common trope of the culture clash comedy, in which someone finds themselves being plunged into a state of complete confusion after encountering a community with entirely different identities – their way of life, their language and their traditions are all radically diverse – is a fascinating way to approach what is quite a bleak depiction of the contemporary era, and the commodification of culture as a source of content creation, which is something that we find increasingly more common as people seek new ways to draw attention to their artistic pursuits. The film ultimately asks quite a bold question: when it comes to documenting cultures outside of our own, at what point does it cross the line between appreciation and exploitation? The film certainly doesn’t provide any answers to a question that is not particularly easy to resolve, but in simply opening the conversation, it provides a fascinating glimpse into the often misguided attempt to “celebrate” diverse cultures, which can border on disrespectful in some cases.

To be fair, this does imply that Magic Farm is a much more sombre and downbeat film – but criticism about contemporary trends and perspectives certainly does not need to limit itself to such a one-dimensional approach, and we find that Ulman makes use of some unexpected techniques to emphasise the various ideas that inspired this film. She relies heavily on absurdism as one of the fundamental methods to communicate the themes – what cannot be said through dialogue is instead conveyed through both the style and tonal shifts that occur throughout the story. Fluid, inconsistent camera work reflects the underlying chaos that persists throughout the film. There is nothing particularly logical about how this film approaches its subject; while it could have been much more linear and straightforward, it adds layers of complexity by choosing to take a more complex route, employing some outright bizarre elements to get a particular message across. It consists of nothing more than a few episodic moments in the lives of these characters – there isn’t any particularly clear attention to detail, and the overarching narrative (a group of filmmakers set out to capture a niche sub-culture) is only there to provide some structure, rather than being the root of the more intriguing aspects of the film. Magic Farm is much more about the atmosphere – a chaotic, off-the-wall blend of dark humour and surrealism is always going to pique our curiosity and drive us to peer deeper below the surface, which is where we find some of the more daring and provocative details. It walks a very narrow tonal tightrope, being fully aware that it is only a few steps away from being insufferable – and even as it stands, it can be considered something of an acquired taste, with the fervent deconstruction of common concepts such as culture, identity and the relationship between social media and the broader world being very much more niche than we may expect, which ultimately gives Magic Farm a very distinct mood that will not be for everyone, but certainly appeal to those with a penchant for the surreal and bizarre.

To bring some of these more intimidating ideas to life on screen, Ulman relies quite heavily on her cast, which consists of a blend of professional actors with whom many viewers will likely be familiar, and a range of amateurs and non-professional actors who were cast in more unorthodox ways, but make invaluable contributions to the film. The central trio consists of Ulman herself, as well as Alex Wolff and newcomer Joe Apollonio, who may not be extremely familiar to a lot of us, but who covertly delivers the film’s funniest and ultimately most heartbreaking performance. The three leads are all exceptionally good, and while they are arguably playing pretty one-dimensional characters in theory, they add so much nuance to very limited archetypes. The more recognisable veterans are Chloë Sevigny, who once again gets the chance to play another offbeat, eccentric character, building from her very distinct but beloved public persona to play a character that would have been awful bad it been handled by just about any other actor, and Simon Rex, who doesn’t appear in too much of the film, but proves that he is effortlessly talented, capable of stealing every scene he is in, despite only appearing in a fraction of the film. While we may be allured by the promise of seeing actors we know delivering what are going to be quite different performances, the true stars of Magic Farm are the people none of us know, but immediately find capture our attention. Several native Argentinian actors play major roles – Abuela Marita as the sage older woman who accidentally causes the protagonists to find their way to this peculiar part of the world, Guillermo Jacubowicz as the well-meaning but oblivious hotel manager and the object of Apollonio’s affections, Valeria Lois as the talkative local gossip, and Camila Del Campo and Mateo Vaquer Ruiz de los Llanos as her overly confident and charismatic children. It’s a tremendous ensemble, and a perfect blend of familiar faces and actors whom we may not have known before this film, but will certainly adore afterwards.

Magic Farm is not a film that always intends to make sense, and we can certainly describe it as a work that is more focused on the journey than the destination, the precise kind of cliche that would be actively criticised by these characters and their perpetual search for meaning where there simply isn’t any to be found. Ultimately, as Thomas Pynchon (who I suspect may appreciate some of the idiosyncracies of this film in terms of how it casts quite a wide net in its pursuit of certain satirical jabs) famously said, “why should things be easy to understand?”, and while we do step away from this film without having received the answers we may expect, it barely makes a difference considering the extent to which the film goes to examine its underlying themes. It knows exactly what it wants to be, even if we aren’t privy to this information until the very end, when we discover that our preconceived notions of what this film was aiming to be – an offbeat satire about the selfishness of the western media and their belief in their sacred right to exploit and appropriate anything they desire for their gain – were somewhat incorrect, since there are layers to this film that require a closer reading and a more careful attention to detail, with the smallest and most seemingly insignificant revealing themselves as essential to understanding the various nuances that are tailored throughout the film. It’s bold, audacious and profoundly funny, with a sliver of melancholy inserted in between the outrageous humour, giving it a sense of deep humanity and sincerity that may come as something of a surprise. Deeply funny and frequently quite bold, Magic Farm is a tremendous achievement, and one of the year’s very best films, both in terms of its unique structure and style, and how it develops its core ideas, becoming a well-crafted, fascinating exploration of culture and society.