Ori­one

Don Ori­one is a Buenos Aires neigh­bour­hood where crime and gang vio­lence are aspects of every­day life. Toia Bonino’s doc­u­men­tary tells the sto­ry of Ale­jan­dro Rob­les, a young boy who became a gang mem­ber and was sub­se­quent­ly shot and killed by police after a friend turned him in. His life took a down­ward spi­ral fol­low­ing a for­ma­tive shift towards pet­ty crime, and his trag­ic sto­ry is recount­ed through voiceover by his sad­dened mother.

As we hear each har­row­ing anec­dote, we watch as our nar­ra­tor method­i­cal­ly bakes a cake in the design of a foot­ball pitch. Each stage of the cake’s devel­op­ment marks a new lay­er of Ale’s his­to­ry, and we lis­ten to her words as she lov­ing­ly pre­pares this elab­o­rate treat. Jux­ta­pos­ing banal domes­tic progress with tales of deep tragedy makes for a fas­ci­nat­ing approach. We are almost hyp­no­tised while listening.

The nar­ra­tive is bro­ken up by footage of home movies, show­ing Ale and the fam­i­ly in hap­pi­er times. Boni­no also inserts footage that is not direct­ly relat­ed to his sto­ry, but rep­re­sen­ta­tive of wider issues in the neigh­bour­hood of Ori­one. We watch, for exam­ple, as a sus­pect is picked out of a line and led into a cell, or the grim process of a criminal’s body being exam­ined in the morgue. It con­nects this spe­cif­ic sto­ry with a wider prob­lem, and reminds us that this is just one por­tray­al of an epi­dem­ic of cor­rup­tion and brutality.

Ori­one takes an objec­tive look at the prob­lem of vio­lence. It doesn’t impose a moral mes­sage, but demon­strates the way these prob­lems infect the sur­round­ing fam­i­lies and not just the per­pe­tra­tors. A devot­ed moth­er cook­ing in her kitchen, talk­ing about her son’s shoot­ing, chal­lenges pre­con­cep­tions we might have about the fam­i­lies of gang mem­bers. If her moth­er­ing is any­thing like the way she bakes this cake, there is no neglect, and she takes admirable care in every­thing she does.