Out of Fantastic Fest, Jorge Thielen Armand’s Death Has No Master turns the vintage ’70s style and filmmaking up to 100. But the stunningly grainy and intoxicating visual veneer does little to save the floundering story that wastes its talent with a listless pace. Armand bottles up every bit of action for the last 20 minutes, and it’s difficult not to feel cheated by the end. While the film slices into themes of colonization and the slaughter of indigenous people, necessary takedowns in 2026, Death Has No Master waits too long to make its statement. The grand finale leaves a deep wound across the forehead, but it doesn’t feel earned; rather, it feels tacked on at the last minute.
Cario (Asia Argento) left home many years ago looking for the cool wind against her cheek and freedom from an abusive childhood. When her father dies, she returns to claim her inheritance: a Venezuelan cacao plantation with a sweeping mansion. She plans to sell the property, but there’s a tiny problem—old family friend Sonia (Dogreika Tovar) and her son Maiko (Yermain Sequera) call the estate home. They know nowhere else. But Cario appears unconcerned with displacing them. In fact, she sits Sonia down to break the news and demands she pack up and leave. A bombshell revelation triggers a deadly sequence of events, a page ripped out of the colonizer playbook.
The film, however, spends a good hour building to the inevitable. Argento ably acts through the motions, as she’s not given much to do other than look agitated. Similarly, Tovar, a particularly special talent, has so little to do until the finale that you wonder why she’s even in the film at all. It’s unfortunate to see the performers obviously tread water like their lives depend on it. The style and aesthetic certainly glue to the viewer’s eyeballs, but the narrative floats to the surface, too terribly dreary to keep anyone from nodding off. Arturo Rodríguez, as Caro’s henchman Yoni, emerges as a bright spot. He menaces with whispered incantations and penetrates with his unwaveringly sinister gaze. Even the audience wants to appease him.
Death Has No Master feels like it wants to say something profound, but the bloated runtime begs the filmmaker to just get on with it already. With also a strong performance from young actor Sequera, who has nothing but a bright future ahead of him, it’s disappointing that such raw talent doesn’t get a real chance to stand unencumbered in the spotlight. As the film careens into the final 20 minutes, wheels fully popped off at this point, rage comes spilling out of the screen with the force of a lioness ripping its prey to shreds. And even then, the bloody carnage lasts such a short time that the air instantly deflates again when the credits hit.
Jorge Thielen Armand’s Death Has No Master worries too much about vibes and so little about story. It’s frustrating and quite frankly, rather upsetting. A solid 30-minute short quakes in the underbrush somewhere; you just have to take a weed whacker to get to the good stuff.
Leave a Reply