Las Acacias (2011): Merging Human and Nonhuman Nature

A quiet, minimalist Argentinian road movie, Pablo Giorgelli’s Las Acacias (2011) explores loneliness and relationships during a timber truck drive from Paraguay to Buenos Aires. The film centers on Rubén (Germán de Silva), a dour, middle-aged truck driver, who is transporting timber from Paraguay to Buenos Aires, and Jacinta (Hebe Duarte), a passenger forced upon him by his unseen boss and her unwelcome 5-month-old daughter Anahi. As Jeannette Catsoulis of The New York Times declares, “as the journey progresses, this improbable romantic movie reels you in.”

During this journey Rubén and Jacinta develop a bond built on a hope nurtured by the joy Anahi and her mother bring to the lonely road. In this beautifully photographed film, however, rather than intimate dialogue, it is the change in the landscape and the subtle softening of facial expressions that reveal this growing connection. The journey from the nearly clear-cut forests of Paraguay to the more fertile yards and roadsides of Argentina, Rubén and Jacinta’s connection grows stronger as Rubén bonds with Jacinta’s daughter Anahi, perhaps transforming the thorny shrub of the film's title, as well. 

Jacinta discovers pictures of Rubén giving a bicycle to what could be a son, but it is Rubén’s willingness to talk about his child and their distant relationship that begins to cement the trust building between them. Rubén’s desire for connection even prompts him to take a detour and deliver a months-late birthday present to a sister. Although Catsoulis asserts, “What we don’t know is legion — the origin of the scar beneath Rubén’s left arm, or why Jacinta declares that her child has no father — and will remain unrevealed,” small gestures like these speak volumes about Rubén’s transformation from an isolated and alienated misanthrope to a compassionate man.

Only the hum of the truck engine and swoosh of passing traffic accompany sparse dialogue, providing opportunities to examine the faces of the three traveling figures more carefully. As Catsoulis explains, “when there’s not much to listen to, we watch more intently, noticing Rubén’s weathered face soften when he interacts with the ridiculously cute child, and Jacinta’s eyes warm in response. Trust grows in that silence, chipping away at barricaded emotions with palpable patience.”

The quiet also emphasizes the landscapes outside the truck cab windows. As Jacinta and Rubén watch the scenery, so do we. The film begins in the desolate clear-cut wood where Rubén picks up his enormous load of timber. The view out of the truck cab looks like a war zone, with dark sharp stumps breaking through gray hard soil. Sage-colored scrub grass and desert bushes line the motorway through Paraguay and much of Argentina, but when they come close to Buenos Aires, the landscape brightens.

At a rest stop, shade trees hover over a picnic table. Green trees line roadways in the city, as well. And when they reach Jacinta’s cousin’s home, the fertility of nonhuman and human nature seem to merge, with a front yard garden and loving family members greeting Jacinta and Rubén. This fecund setting parallels the relationship between Rubén, Jacinta, and her child, highlighting the ever more interconnected relationship we share with the natural world.