‘The Absence of Eden’ Review: Zoe Saldaña Stars in a Muted Directorial Debut from Husband Marco Perego
Two parallel but inevitably intersecting stories make up Italian-born director Marco Perego’s debut feature “The Absence of Eden,” a strikingly shot and superbly acted immigration drama. But for all its commendable on-screen elements, it’s the screenplay that Perego co-wrote with Rick Rapoza that falls short, traversing overly familiar and rather sordid tropes related to a divisive political issue. While the actors — led by Zoe Saldaña, who is also married to the director — give powerful portrayals that challenge the country’s anti-immigrant climate, but there’s little in the way of thematic novelty here.
New ICE Agent Shipp (Garrett Hedlund), whose estranged father often leaves voice messages he never hears, has just moved to an unnamed border town. Though Shipp’s decision to join this line of work doesn’t stem from a strong ideological stance, his partner and friend Dobbins (Chris Coy) tries to instill in him a dehumanizing “us against them” mentality. As he settles into the dangers and moral conundrums of the job, it’s his romance with Yadira (Adria Arjona), a single mother of Mexican descent, that complicates matters.
On the other side of the fence, Esmeralda (Saldaña), an exotic dancer forced to flee her hometown after a violent encounter with a client, embarks on the dangerous desert-crossing journey into the United States. Along the way, she becomes the de facto guardian for a young girl left alone. Once they arrive, Esmeralda agrees to take on an illicit job the smugglers offer her in order to preserve her safety and that of the child. In a mostly Spanish-language role, Saldaña convincingly communicates the perpetual distress of the experience, her facial expressions bearing a muted anguish. It’s a welcome display of vulnerability from a star best known for big-budget Hollywood outings.
Perego demonstrates a strong cinematic voice through the film’s dreamlike atmosphere, evoking the characters’ sentiments instead of presenting them didactically. This ethereal, not-of-this-world mood is in major part the work of Argentine cinematographer Javier Julia (“Argentina, 1985”). With sumptuous interplay of composition, light, and delicate camera movement, Julia takes his time introducing us to new environments. While “Absence of Eden” lacks narrative originality, it often dazzles visually.
Within this thoughtfully conceived milieu, Hedlund’s sorrowful stoicism commands attention. Shipp rarely speaks, and his guarded demeanor only breaks in the presence of Yadira. He hasn’t yet been corrupted by the agency’s toxic culture, so the film doesn’t need to humanize him, yet it does map his transition into becoming more like Dobbins. Perego has an affinity for moments showing his characters at their breaking point. A hard-to-stomach scene sees Saldaña’s Esmeralda screaming in desperation without making a sound — a prisoner trapped in a dreadful no-win arrangement. Another captures Yadira in tears, pleading to Shipp when her true identity is revealed. The actors’ performances in such moments elevate the piece.
From the supporting players who aren’t first-language Spanish speakers, some dialogue sounds stilted in comparison to Saldaña and Arjona’s more natural fluidity. Given how many of these secondary characters are meant to be native speakers, this is a misstep that goes against the movie’s presumed desire for authenticity. That may go unnoticed by most American viewers, but the presence of drugs, human trafficking, and plenty of stereotypical Latino bad hombres will be recognizable to them, based on other projects set in this region.
Still, Perego lands other meaningful points about the rampant xenophobia that fuels the immigration discourse. A scene halfway through, as Shipp’s relationship with Yadira deepens, shows Dobbins’ biases as standard for those in his department. When Dobbins hears Yadira speak Spanish at a Mexican restaurant, he instinctively questions where she was born, claiming it’s for the sake of getting to know her. Near the end of this downhearted saga, Esmeralda gives a speech, explanatory despite its poetic language, about the mistreatment of her people in this country — her fury even more palpable in her delivery than in the words themselves. By the time this conclusion arrives, the film’s threads don’t feel fully processed. But it’s highlights like this that give “The Absence of Eden” enough panache to serve as a strong calling card for Perego.
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