Kill The Jockey
Introduction
Even before the title of the film appears in the film Kill The Jockey which is Argentina’s Official Entry to the Oscars of 2025, you are introduced to a character sitting in the bar and heavily intoxicated while being found by a menacing male party. On probing further, it is revealed that Remo is a jockey who is quickly readied for a race while being dropped at a race track. There, you see him flirting with horse drugs mixed with cigarettes and alcohol before making a slow walk down a tunnel, and onto the race track. And while being thrown a flying kiss before the pistol goes off, you are witness to a hilarious anti-climax, Remo falls off the horse and thuds on the ground. If you look closely, there are several references of birth and rebirth in this opening sequence (walking down the corridor or falling om the ground), frequent themes that you do notice at several instances in the screenplay that is oddly colourful and doesn’t necessarily follow a fixed template. In fact, it is as fluid as the other inherent theme of the film which is gender fluidity.
Story & Screenplay
The writing further probes the character of Remo who is essentially working for a druglord (who earned a fortune from him over a period of time) given the amount of debt that he owes him. But his decline is pretty evident in recent times, much like the opening sequence that sees him drastically fail. He has also his pregnant girlfriend for company who is also a jockey. In a hilarious scene, she retorts to his question on whether she will ever love him again by saying that, he needs to die and be born again for that to transpire. Clearly, the romantic wavelengths of the two characters have been compromised in the midst of their gender awakening and fluidity that is a deterrent for both characters. But Remo must participate in a horse race one final time in exchange for clearing his debt, something that involves a new horse imported from Japan, who is oddly shown to similate a test on a treadmill (hilariously odd, I must admit). Yet, the mishap that ensues completely changes the trajectory of Remo in what is essentially a birth after his rebirth.
There is another hilarious scene wherein you are witness to Remo lying on a hospital bed wherein the doctor exclaims that his injuries are not compatible with life, almost as a reference to death following his accident. Yet, when Remo actually wakes up, all plastered up to his forehead, he is quick to snitch a handbag from the rug while also being inclined to heavy makeup even as he escapes from the hospital, even while being tracked by two henchmen employed by the druglord that he used to work for. But the more important theme that truly kicks in at this juncture is of Gender Fluidity. This basically meant that gender was no longer used as a focal point for Remo, who had transformed into Dolores, an identity of his that he had rediscovered after a few years. The proceedings are erratic and weirdly funny, even as you are consumed in the colourful journey of Remo/Dolores, that marks a significant shift in tonality, even with respect to the psyche of the protagonist while going hand in hand with its parallel theme of birth and rebirth.
The entire final act is no longer devoted towards a goose with a golden-egg who is on the run. In fact, the traces of gender-fluidity also extends to the character of Abril (Remo’s girlfriend) who finds her soulmate in another character of Ana, while also breaking the tone and grammer of a deliberately unsettled drama by breaking into a dance. In another scene, she recognizes Dolores and forms a bond of friendship, even as Dolores is shown to hilariously murder the man she once worked for (Remo’s druglord). Almost immediately post that, you see another rebirth of Dolores who is giving life-lessons about horses in jail before another rebirth that sees her transform into Remo again who is known to love racing as a jockey. These frequent births and rebirths are consistent with regard to its final act that is used as a clever callback or a recall to the dynamics between Abril and Remo at the start of the film (wherein Abril remarks of him having to die and be reborn again). The screenplay is brilliantly colourful and deliberately odd while tackling with the complex themes of gender fluidity amidst the concept of birth and rebirth.
Dialogues, Music & Direction
The dialogues are sparingly used, often resorting to imageries that lay and shift the foundation of the drama. The BGM is perfectly in sync with the colourful mood of the drama that essentially unfolds as a comedy. The cinematography comprises of frames that have traces of eccentricity that are further enhanced by modes of editing that are crisp with outstanding transition shots, that deliberately contribute to unsettling and shifting the tone of the drama. Director Luis Ortega delivers a fabulous piece of art in which he isn’t interested in compartmentalizing the drama with regard to the identity of an individual. This, while he literally sets the drama run riot with its overlapping but complex themes that frequently results in tonal shift in the drama. And the idea of leaving the interpretation of the drama to the viewers was a great add-on, by a director who is in red-hot form here.
Performances
The performances are excellent by the members of the cast. Marianne Di Girolamo as Ana has a solid screen presence and delivers a pretty good performance. Daniel Gimenez as Sirena is nicely understated and subtly hilarious in a character that is tonally opposite of what his profession stands for (and refreshingly so). Ursula Corbero as Abril is excellent with the deft emotions that she brings to the fore, while delivering a wonderful little act that is playful and heartfelt, both at the same time. Nahuel Perez Biscayart as Remo is brilliant to the core in a performance that resembles his fluidity in adapting to the character of Dolores too. These are essentially two different characters wrapped in a single physical framework, and it required a lot of precision to pull this through. And Nahuel is absolutely wonderful to witness here in probably a character of a lifetime (literally and figuratively speaking).
Conclusion
As a part of our MAMI coverage, Argentina’s Official Submission to the Oscars of 2025, Kill The Jockey is a colourful oddity on identity and gender fluidity told through the lens of birth and rebirth, in a complex drama that is brilliant to the core.