‘Landmarks’ Review: Lucrecia Martel’s First Foray into Nonfiction is an Indignant Look at Injustice in Argentina [B] Venice

The acclaimed filmmaker goes close to home with the story of an indigenous landowner killed by developers – and their subsequent, often kafkaesque trial

At their trial, the men accused of the murder of Javier Chocobar, a community leader in a remote indigenous community in northern Argentina, don’t really help themselves. One insists “I am not a crook” – a phrase immortalised by a certain former US president, and even less effective when it’s a lie. Another proudly watches as video footage from the incident is played in court. It shows the three mining developers, two of which are ex-policemen able to keep their duty weapons after retirement, draw their weapons and – after a couple of minutes – appear to do exactly what they’re accused of. Javier lies dead and another friend is shot. The trio scamper away and, at least for the nine years until they are eventually tried, roam free.

It all seems fairly clear cut. So why did it take almost a decade for any glimpse of justice? And, beyond the belated trial, why does one of the world’s best filmmakers feel the circumstances surrounding Chocobar’s not-very-mysterious death are an urgent subject for a new documentary?

The answer to both questions is an existential one about indigenous rights – or a lack thereof – in Latin America and particularly Argentina. For Lucrecia Martel, Landmarks is a referendum on the state of play for minority groups like Chocobar’s. The Chuchagasta have lived in the Tucumán province for thousands of years and, as part of Argentina’s establishment as a state, were given the land on which they live. Sort of. Much like the status of African Americans after the abolition of slavery, legal documents which merely express freedom and independence are not enforced with any state power to make that a reality. When valuable natural resources are found in areas around Tucumán and miners from elsewhere earn permission to dig and drill, two legal realities are suddenly in conflict. And power sides with one.

Landmarks most closely follows the progress of the trial of the three men, with Martel and her team given access to court to film the entire proceedings. But it’s interspersed with interviews with members of the Chuchagasta, including Chocobar’s wife, son, brother-in-law and other community members. They tell the story of their people, one they say is inextricably tied to injustice facing all minorities in Argentina. When the three men are granted land rights in part of the area, for example, they begin charging the Chuchagasta grazing fees, tax their profits, and confiscate animals when payments are late or not received. Some farmers are grateful for the more advanced equipment they’re given, but others point out that the landowners’ interest is in extracting more from the land and maximising their tax receipts. It’s far from a humanitarian effort. Resentment of their second-class status hardens among the Chuchagasta and, with that, hostility between the two groups. 

One community member points out that the entrepreneurs are often keen to sit down and talk as a means of “reaching a better deal for both sides”. The outcomes never seem to suit the indigenous people, he says. They have more money, resources and, to use the business term, asymmetric information about how much the land is really worth and what can be done with it. “Dialogue always means giving up something”, the man concludes. “Friendly” conversations are suspended.

Meanwhile, the trial becomes sillier and sillier. One of the accused is sat face-to-face with one of Chocobar’s family members to “debate” exactly how events proceeded with no intervention from the judge or lawyers from each camp. The judges, the defence team and even the defendants are brought regular coffees in saucers. Indigenous witnesses are treated with impatience, while the defendants act like neutral expert witnesses. Martel weaponised kafkaesque conditions in Zama, her previous film whose reputation has only grown since its release (there wasn’t much higher esteem in which it could be held.) But if she wrote some of what goes down in Landmarks, it would be seen as beyond reality. 

Yet Martel is ultimately keener on depicting a dark, deeply unfair state of affairs for indigenous people in Argentina than she is in telling the story of one trial alone. In her telling of innocent Chuchagastans being outmanoeuvred by ambitious newcomers two steps ahead with the apparatus of the state on their side, there’s shades of Killers of the Flower Moon. There’s also the indignation about that situation which comes across in Scorsese’s film. As Robert De Niro says, “People forget. They don’t remember. They don’t care.” With Landmarks, Martel is seeking to prevent us having the excuse.

Grade: B

This review is from the 2025 Venice Film Festival where Landmarks had its world premiere. There is no U.S. distribution at this time.

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Adam Solomons

Adam Solomons is a critic and journalist who combines his love of cinema with an insatiable hunger for news and politics. Day-to-day he’s a producer at Times Radio, with The Times of London. Adam is a Rotten Tomatoes-approved critic with bylines at Sight & Sound, Indiewire, and more. His favorite movie is still Toy Story 2.

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