The skies of Tierra del Fuego radiate an eerie calm in Felipe Gálvez Haberle’s film “The Settlers,” a portrayal of desolation that palpably resonates with the chilling subject matter at its core—the Selk’nam genocide. Amid the imposing backdrop of the Andes mountains, the film converses in a language of reticence, a silence that unveils a history both tragic and seldom told.
“The Settlers” unfolds in 1901 Chile, in the isolated stretches of the Tierra del Fuego region. A chilling narrative beckons as José Menéndez (Alfredo Castro), a businessman with land-hungry eyes, commissions an expedition to purge the land of its indigenous Selk’nam inhabitants. The task falls to a trio of disparate actors—a former British Army Lieutenant, Alexander MacLennan (Mark Stanley), an American gunman, Bill (Benjamin Westfall), and Segundo (Camilo Arancibia), a mestizo expert marksman with roots entangled in the very land he is enlisted to cleanse.
Throughout its 97-minute journey, Haberle’s directorial debut, for which he also crafted the script alongside Antonia Girardi and Mariano Llinás, traverses through the methodical unfurling of a systematic annihilation of a people. The racial divisions that pre-exist are sharpened into focus as Segundo finds himself scorned and distrusted by his white counterparts, MacLennan and Bill, who resort to disparaging him in English—a tongue they assume he does not comprehend. Their contempt embodies the settler-coloniser ethos that pervaded Chile at the turn of the century.
The expedition’s encounter with the indigenous denizens is a poignant reflection of the ingrained disdain: Segundo falters when blood is shed by his companions, a trepidation that earns MacLennan’s dire warning of violent retribution should he fail to act as per the dictates of their genocidal quest.
It is in Segundo’s restrained portrayal by Camilo Arancibia, a performance with sparse dialogue yet filled with profound unspoken emotion, that the film finds its heart. Meanwhile, Westfall and Stanley, despite fitting the bill, leave the spectator yearning for a layer of complexity that might have afforded their characters a more finished veneer.
As the film advances, time leaps to seven years hence, where within the opulent confines of Menéndez’s estate, the dark orchestration of history rewriting commences. Poignantly, Segundo is reeled back from the semblance of life he had managed to carve out, compelled once more into the web of complicity.
“The Settlers” is a cinematic tapestry interweaving the story of human greed and its catastrophic impact on the essence of a culture. Through the scathing critique of settler entitlement, waged to usurp indigenous lands for profit, Gálvez Haberle delivers a poignant historical examination that remains as relevant as it is compelling.
While it could stand a degree of refinement in performance dynamics, the movie underscores the potential of sparse storytelling to engage audiences profoundly. Through his capable portrayal of unadorned brutality and the silent suffering it begot, Haberle emerges as a filmmaker of promise.
With its streaming availability on MUBI, “The Settlers” invites a global audience to bear witness to a chapter of Chilean history that speaks, without uttering a word, of the deep wounds inflicted upon the Selk’nam people. Its retelling is a quietude echoed in the hallowed halls of world cinema, a haunting reminder of the enduring echoes of humanity’s darkest inclinations.
