Trend hoppers face satirical portrayal in Amalia Ulman's latest movie, 'Magic Farm'
A Fresh Look at Amalia Ulman's "Magic Farm": A Humorous Tale of Cultural Blunders and Appropriation
Stepping into the world of Amalia Ulman's second feature, "Magic Farm," one encounters a New York-based documentary crew on a comedic quest for exotic subcultures in Latin America. Picture them as fish-out-of-water types, stumbling upon Bolivian teen exorcists, or something just as bizarre. However, their ventures shoulder-surfing for Vice News-style sensations quite frankly, go awry.
In this absurd comedy, Ulman, who also directs and stars, takes on the role of Elena, the lone Spanish-speaker on the crew. The Argentine-Spanish conceptual artist embarks on an unconventional story, embracing a vibrant, saturated visual style adorned with fisheye lenses and pooch-point-of-view shots, set against an eclectic, sun-kissed soundtrack.
The plot, while occasionally wandering, shines with its idiosyncratic nature. The crew's first misstep lands them in an incorrect town, searching for "Super Carlitos," the bunny-eared singer said to reside in San Cristóbal. Yet, Latin America boasts numerous San Cristóbal towns, making series of Super Carlitos hard to come by.
When it comes to the narrative, there's more brewing beneath the surface. Unbeknownst to the blundering crew, hazardous pesticides are being dumped on the agricultural region, causing a health crisis of cancer and birth defects. Adding absurdity to injury, the ignorant crew fails to grasp this severe predicament, instead obsessing over fabricating a viral trend.
NPR's A Martínez dove into a conversation with Ulman about her remarkable vision. during this interview, she explains her intent behind the film's various elements, providing depth and insight into the amusing tale of culture shock and appropriation.
This interview has been lightly edited for length and clarity.
Interview Highlights
A Martínez: In the film, Elena, your character—part of the documentary crew—is the only one who speaks Spanish. One intriguing scene highlighting the crew's presumptuous cluelessness involves them reacting to street banners. What was going on, and what were you trying to say with this scene?
Amalia Ulman: Well, there are two sides to the story. One is the Americans being as obnoxious as they are, and the other shows the wacky, strange things that happen in Argentina. Street banners, known as pasacalles, are pretty common. They might celebrate graduations, births, or confrontations between partners. So, I wanted to showcase both the Americans' ridiculous behavior and Argentina’s bizarre culture blending together.
Martínez: On the subject of the obnoxiousness of the Americans. Why do you think it continues to persist? Is it just due to their obnoxiousness or their lack of awareness?
Ulman: There's a hegemony with American culture worldwide. Many people are aware of their own culture as well as foreign cultures, while Americans, who have only faced one culture, force others to meet them on their own terms. It often boils down to Americans needing to be more adaptable to new cultural codes or circumstances.
Martínez: The crew misses the obvious, tragic story unfolding right in front of them—the harmful impact of pesticides on the town's inhabitants. Were the crew equipped to sniff out that kind of story intellectually and journalistically?
Ulman: No, and the film doesn’t blame the crew or their system. Their goal is to create superficial stories, and, as you mentioned, they aren't prepared to handle substantive issues such as this. In Latin America, dealing with such issues requires combating layers of corruption and dangerous situations.
Martínez: To stay longer to delve deeper into the environmental effects of the pesticides would require more funding, time, and possibly a different type of journalist.
Ulman: Exactly. Additionally, I wanted to underscore the fact that there are places where community resistance isn’t even an option due to high levels of corruption, making confronting corporations potentially lethal.
Martínez: In one scene, Justin, the sound guy, fails to appreciate cumbia music and tries to get the musicians to change it. It's like he wants them to adjust to his version of Latin music instead of what it truly is.
Ulman: Yes, but I wouldn't say it's intentional. It usually stems from ignorance or lack of exposure. I've seen this firsthand, and it's not uncommon for ignorant assertions about Latin music to be made.
Martínez: Would it require more patience and grace from those encountering the unfamiliar?
Ulman: I believe people must exercise more patience, especially given their limited experiences abroad. The lack of exposure sometimes fuels an inflated sense of superiority and a lack of empathy towards those of different cultures or language proficiency.
Copyright 2025 NPR.
- The scene involving the street banners in Amalia Ulman's "Magic Farm" presents a blend of the Americans' obnoxious behavior and Argentina's bizarre culture.
- Amalia Ulman believes that the hegemony of American culture worldwide encourages others to meet them on their own terms, leading to a lack of adaptability in Americans.
- In the film, Justin, the sound guy, fails to appreciate cumbia music, which Ulman attributes to ignorance or lack of exposure.
- The crew in "Magic Farm" isn't prepared to handle substantive issues such as environmental tragedies like harmful pesticide use, needing more funding, time, and possibly a different type of journalist.
- Corruption and dangerous situations often make it difficult for community resistance against corporations in certain places, as depicted in "Magic Farm."
