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Back in 1993 when Colombian drug kingpin Pablo Escobar was killed in a dramatic shootout, he left behind an unusual legacy – a private zoo full of smuggled-in exotic animals at his sprawling estate. Among them were four hippopotamuses that ended up thriving in their new tropical home, far from their native Africa. As the years passed, the pod of hippos kept growing along the Magdalena River until they numbered over 100 and were seen as an invasive threat. Dubbed “cocaine hippos,” their origin story became stranger than fiction.
One hippo went rogue from the herd and was christened with the name “Pepe” by the media. Fishermen complained this hefty interloper was wreaking havoc along the river, so the government took the unprecedented step of ordering Pepe killed in 2009 – the first and only known hippo hunted down in the Americas.
This tall tale caught the eye of Dominican director Nelson Carlo de los Santos Arias. He spins the curious saga of Pepe the hippo into an experimental tone poem of a film. Fact and fiction blend through disjointed scenes and narration from beyond the grave by Pepe himself as he ponders his fate in this strange new land. More a moody art house riddle than straightforward documentary, Arias challenges audiences to connect the dots in Pepe’s wandering tale. But the visually arresting hippo’s eye view introduces some unexpected questions about the bonds between man and beast.
A Meandering Tone Poem
Director Nelson Carlo de los Santos Arias makes clear from the start that Pepe will be no ordinary docudrama. He embraces an avant-garde approach, serving up a poetic hodgepodge of documentary realism and fictional flights of fancy. Don’t expect a plot-driven narrative neatly tied up with a bow. Pepe unravels as a disjointed series of vignettes, often obscuring more than it reveals.
The film forgoes straightforward storytelling in favor of mood and metaphor. Critics dubbed it a “philosophical tone poem” intended to wash over viewers rather than spoon-feed information. The first half hour proves especially challenging as scenes layered with audio news footage and two-way radios unfold over black screens, leaving key context in the dark.
Pepe himself narrates from beyond the grave, his musings voiced in a mix of languages – Spanish, Afrikaans, and the Namibian dialect Mbukushu. The hippo ponders his life with newfound eloquence, expressing bafflement at this strange ability to self-reflect only after meeting his demise. Arias prods his audience to fill in the blanks as Pepe puzzles over his relocation to Escobar’s Colombian compound and why humans deemed this curious beast a pest requiring elimination.
Fact and fiction swim together in a steady stream of consciousness as we hopscotch through time and place. Animated segments show Pepe’s childhood adventures while news clips highlight Escobar’s reign of terror. Stoned truck drivers transport the smuggled animals as Pepe remarks on “the two-legged” creatures who uprooted him so callously. It’s a wandering tale open to interpretation, revealed in fragments for the viewer to glue together.
A Kaleidoscope of Sights and Sounds
Arias takes an impressionistic approach to Pepe’s visual landscape, blending mesmerizing beauty with an unsettling eeriness. Cinematographers Camilo Soratti and Roman Lechapelier capture the Magdalena’s still waters with artful frames, while also conjuring a sinister mood.
The camera ventures up close to shoot Pepe’s coal black eyes and muddy hide glistening above the surface. Overhead drone shots peer down god-like onto lumbering hippos speckled like stones across the river. Arias switches to grainy night vision as helicopters emerge from the darkness to snatch the beasts. The contrast of gritty poaching scenes with glossy nature cinematography keeps viewers off balance.
Animation, archival footage, and video inserts bounce the audience across time and place. Aspect ratios shift from widescreen to square, color to black-and-white, film to digital. It’s a kaleidoscope of sights and sounds, with the score’s haunting electronics and hippo grunts amplifying the alienation.
Pepe takes shape as a shattered mirror reflecting the human gaze back upon itself. Each fragment reveals some new facet while obscuring others in shadow. It’s an abstract impression leaving room for interpretation yet unified by themes of exploitation and isolation. Love or hate the psychedelic presentation, some images burn themselves into your mind – like Pepe’s lifeless body splayed tragically across an emerald field under soulless eyes.
Hippo as Displaced Refugee
Lurking below Pepe’s surreal surface, Arias taps into themes of colonialism, displacement, and the relationship between man and beast. Pepe’s tale echoes stories of refugees exiled from their homelands, plunged into hostile territory through no fault of their own.
The hippo ponders his parents’ journey forced from Namibia to Colombia, bewildered by these strange two-legged creatures and their flying machines. Like migrants viewed with suspicion, Pepe is seen as an invasive pest violating borders. His execution raises questions about humanity’s perceived ownership of the natural world.
By framing the story through the hippo’s eyes, Arias inverts the traditional power dynamic where animals have no voice. Pepe describes humans as “the two-legged” and struggles to comprehend their motives in uprooting him so carelessly. The animal kingdom suffers while men like Escobar indulge their whims without regard for consequences.
Ultimately Pepe plays as a cautionary tale about disrupting delicately balanced ecosystems. Escobar’s smuggled zoo animals disrupted Colombian wildlife just as colonialist adventurers did in Africa centuries before. Arias shows nature’s creatures paying the price for man’s ambition and greed. The sight of Pepe’s corpse splayed tragically across the land seems a warning – when human forces invade, the hippo dies.
Ponderous Pacing Tests Patience
Arias’ avant-garde approach won’t click with all tastes. Many craving plot-driven storytelling bounced right off Pepe’s ponderous pacing and convoluted structure. Opaque visuals paired with Pepe’s abstract narration left some viewers out at sea grasping for meaning.
After an hour, the film’s dreamy flow starts to drag even for arthouse crowds. Pepe’s meandering monologues grow windy as he waxes poetic about death, language acquisition, and his bafflement with “the two-legged.” Shifting between Afrikaans, Spanish, and Mbukushu, the musings circle around the same existential confusion.
Just when human characters enter the frame, promising narrative momentum, Arias loses the thread. We gain little empathy for the fishermen and villages disturbed by Pepe’s presence along the river. Their family squabbles feel disconnected from the hippo’s spiritual journey.
Moments of brilliance poke through the narrative fog at times. But the plot frequently dives underwater only to resurface later, leaving gaps for those craving coherence. Avant-garde at its most divisive, Pepe dares audiences to let go and float along into uncharted waters. Just don’t expect to see the shore again.
A Polarizing Work of Pure Cinema
Pepe defies categorization. At turns mystifying and revelatory, it navigates a fine line between pretension and poetry. This adventurous work of pure cinema pushes boundaries that will alienate casual crowds. Still, flaws coexist with moments of brilliance in Arias’ inspired artistic vision.
Avant-garde approaches like this tend to divide audiences rather than unite them. Non-linear structure and opaque storytelling will test the patience of those seeking standard documentary fare. But viewers with an appetite for inventive filmmaking may savor the sensory experience washing over them.
Cinephiles especially may appreciate Arias’ ambition in attempting such an unconventional tonal and visual feat. Striking images paired with Pepe’s postmodern narration linger long after the credits roll. It’s a film more likely to spark debate than please all tastes. But it offers food for thought on subjects like colonialism and humanity’s relationship with nature.
At its best, Pepe jolts viewers out of complacency through fresh eyes and unexpected juxtapositions. A few unforgettable shots exploring the bonds between man and beast justify Arias’ efforts alone. This peculiar little film may float on by many audiences, but it may just mesmerize those ready to dive into its deep waters.
The Review
Pepe
Pepe defies tidy verdicts. This avant-garde curiosity succeeds more as an experiential art piece than a coherent film. Arias impresses with bold stylistic risks even if the storytelling flounders. Stunning visuals and poetic narration mingle with sluggish pacing and opaque digressions. So whether it's a failed experiment or a transcendent tone poem depends on the viewer's taste for abstract cinematic journeys. In the end, Pepe challenges audiences more than it entertains them. But for select cinephiles, it may prove a rewarding trip to take, bumps and all.
PROS
- Visually arresting cinematography and editing
- Unique avant-garde approach and non-linear structure
- Thought-provoking themes on colonialism and human-animal relations
- Ambitious and boundary-pushing artistic vision
- Potent images that linger in the mind
- Pepe's poetic postmodern narration
CONS
- Slow, meandering pace tries viewers' patience
- Storytelling is opaque and confusing at times
- Pepe's monologues grow repetitive
- Shift to human characters less compelling
- Won't appeal to those seeking clear narrative
