Everybody Has A Plan
15Actor Viggo Mortensen is quite the creative Swiss army knife. Sure he's an actor, but he's also a published poet, photographer and painter. This artistic bent goes some way to explaining the many different roles he takes on. At the age of 54 he's happy enough to mix it up appearing in blockbusters such as the Lord of the Rings franchise, as well as more independent offerings.
In this his latest film, Viggo takes the indie route one step further, by starring in this Argentinean film. Not only is he fluent in Spanish, it transpires this is actually his second starring role in a foreign film (2006's Alatriste). Of course it is, bloody show off.
It would seem, on the outside, that Agustin (Mortensen) has a great life; living in Buenos Aires with his loving wife Claudia (Soledad Villamil) of eight years, working as a doctor in a clinic. The truth is that Agustin is anything but happy. This feeling is compounded when the couple are preparing themselves to adopt a baby. The problem is, Agustin doesn't want one. At all. Ever.
This decision obviously doesn't make his wife particularly happy either, and Agustin literally hides himself away from her. Then Agustin gets an unexpected visit from his twin brother Pedro (Mortensen). But when Pedro dies, Agustin sees this as a great opportunity to kill off his own identity and adopt his brother's, and that's exactly what he does.
But when he arrives in the vast expanse of the Delta where his brother lived, pretending to be his brother, he's suddenly made aware of the criminal activities that Pedro participated in, putting his own life in danger as a result.
Mortensen obviously had a lot of faith in his director Ana Piterbarg, as this feature marks her directorial debut. And for the most part, it's solid enough. However, it does suffer somewhat from TCS – Twin Character Syndrome. It's really difficult to pull off having an actor play two characters in a film that isn't either a teen comedy or a silly action flick. And although Mortensen doesn't spend an incredible amount of time with his other screen self, it still has an awkward Disney-esque quality about it.
Even if you put the 'double trouble' element to one side, Piterbarg's film is awash with pregnant pauses and lingering shots of the quiet outdoors. It probably has a certain visual poetry that Mortensen could appreciate, but to less artsy fartsy types, it all gets a little dreary.
As you would expect (from a show off), Mortensen puts in two good, brooding performances but the drawn out story just isn't substantial enough to wholly enjoy.