The Freshly Cut Grass is a study in observation. The slow-burn Argentinian drama can be arduous, but it isn’t without a point to make. And it’s an incisive point that can only be picked up if you’re paying close attention to the details. The characters — two agronomics professors, Natalia (Marina de Tavira) and Pablo (Joaquín Furriel), who are having affairs with their students, Gonzalo (Emanuel Parga) and Luciana (Verónica Gerez), respectively — mirror each other in many ways. They’re looking for love in their own misguided ways, but The Freshly Cut Grass has a more profound message that goes beyond its premise.
The Freshly Cut Grass Is Deeply Fascinating & Engaging
Despite their profession and extramarital activities, Natalia and Pablo aren’t connected at all. They’re not friends and they don’t interact, and yet their lives play out in parallel to the other — with stark differences. These differences show up in the way they respond to similar situations and how they’re each treated under the same circumstances. Director Celina Murga, who co-wrote the screenplay alongside Gabriela Larralde, Lucia Osorio, and Juan Villegas, masterfully captures the mundanity of daily routines, heightened by the characters’ indiscretions. At first, the contrasts are not obvious, but they build until they can no longer be ignored.
What we’re left with is a story that, while about infidelity, portrays the gender norms that are inextricably tied to the way each of the affairs are perceived.
What we’re left with is a story that, while about infidelity, portrays the gender norms that are inextricably tied to the way each of the affairs are perceived. A lecture from their boss at the university, after damning photographs reveal their trysts, draws distinct reactions that are hard to shake. This snowballs as Pablo and Natalia’s spouses learn about what’s going on behind their backs. There’s Natalia’s husband, Hernán (Alfonso Tort), who decides to leave, and Pablo’s wife, Carla (Romina Peluffo), who decides to stay, perhaps believing — like many women do — that their marriage can recover from such a breach in trust.
The unhappiness of Hernán and Carla also plays a big role, as we notice the distance between the respective couples — the unfocused eyes, the lack of physical intimacy, the flat tone in conversations. These moments are not given as an excuse, but rather to examine Pablo and Natalia’s inner lives in more detail. The closer The Freshly Cut Grass (El aroma del pasto recién cortado) gets to its end, the more obvious the similarities and differences between them become. They’re like two sides of the same coin without even knowing it, and Murga delicately explores them without judgment, but with a deep fascination.
Marina De Tavira & Joaquín Furriel’s Performances Are Deep
Of course, The Freshly Cut Grass wouldn’t be as good as it is without de Tavira and Furriel’s performances. The story itself is rather simple, and there is a lot of redundancy that begins to drag the film before it picks back up again, but de Tavira and Furriel never waver. The way they behave with Gonzalo and Luciana versus Hernán and Carla is like night and day.
De Tavira injects a sense of freedom and brightness into her character when she’s with Gonzalo; it’s as though the weight of the world disappears when they’re together. It’s a stark contrast to her mood with her husband, and she looks dejected, as if a wall has been put up in her mind, a marital barrier that can no longer be breached. Furriel, meanwhile, can be stoic and carefree, emotionally distant and charming. He plays Pablo as though he’s got a chip on his shoulder, but who is free from responsibility while with Luciana.
Every moment is purposeful, every conversation sharp; the actors and the direction say more than what is on the surface.
The supporting cast — Parga and Gerez as Gonzalo and Luciana, especially — is excellent. Their roles are exceptionally layered and, though we’re only with them for a short time, we feel as though we know them. They enrich the film and Natalia and Pablo’s lives in a myriad of ways, but I also felt for them apart from their attachments to the main characters. Each character walks a fine line, but they’re more than their situations.
The Freshly Cut Grass allows us to observe the characters without being performative. Every moment is purposeful, every conversation sharp; the actors and the direction say more than what is on the surface. Repetition is the drama’s best friend. It may take some time to get there, but Murga’s film is like looking through a blurry lens at first before the image becomes clear as day.