Cruelty brims just under the surface—or more accurately, just outside of the frame—in this period drama indicting the brutality of South America’s European colonizers. Writer-director Théo Court gives the harrowing subject dexterous treatment in White on White (Blanco en Blanco), implying abuses without explicitly pointing them out.
In 1900s Chile, photographer Pedro (Alfredo Castro) arrives at a land canvassed by violence against its indigenous people. The territory is called Tierra del Fuego, and its powerful landowner Mr. Porter (never pictured) hires Pedro to shoot his child fiance, Sara (Esther Vega Pérez Torres). Pedro becomes entranced by the young girl’s innocence. He plays a dangerous game, for Porter is to be feared if he learns that these pictures of Sara are more to Pedro than a paid job. Though the proprietor is never seen (by the viewer or by Pedro), his presence is always felt.
This tenor permeates the entirety of the film; threats are felt and not seen. From sexual violence to a massacre, aggressions are positioned just off-screen—a phenomenon that is reflected in Pedro’s own portraits. He often takes minutes at a time to arrange his shots, guiding men to strike powerful poses as they aim their guns toward unseen Indigenous Chileans. For several uncomfortable minutes, viewers witness the exact and extraneous measures it takes to present genocide as a battle fought with integrity.
The end result is a crisp shot of victorious White settlers—a chilling allegory for whitewashed Latin American history. This all is uniquely framed by Pedro’s artist eyes. As an unsuspecting stranger in the territory and yet a willing perpetrator of its injustices, he can’t stomach the harsh land but for the sake of his trade; and in his “love” of innocence, he exploits the very purity he seeks out.
For Court, the moral of the feature is not found in its pictures, but rather in where the frames cut off reality. One of the most visually striking films of modern cinema, White on White subtly reveals the darker side of Chilean history. It functions less as a harmonious narrative and more as a stunning piece of art and fascinating character study. Those with an eye for art, cinematography, and socio-historical issues will take a great interest in this piece. Highly recommended for Spanish-language and historical drama shelves in academic and public libraries.