You know what they say? Fake it 'til you make it!
Messy, meaningful, and oddly touching, it celebrates the power of community, balancing sincerity and satire with a playful touch of absurdity.
Written by Giorgia Cattaneo
A new MUBI release. Magic Farm, written and directed by Amalia Ulman, is a boldly eccentric satire that blends mockumentary aesthetics with social commentary, all set in the sun-drenched fields of Argentina. The plot follows a clueless crew of American hipster documentarians – led by the ambitious presenter Edna (Chloë Sevigny) – who find themselves in the wrong place while trying to make a show about Latin American music. What follows is a chaotic fabrication of a viral narrative involving a “mythical” musician and a small rural community, all while a serious health crisis linked to glyphosate use looms in the background. A thoughtful premise that, at its best, reveals glimmers of something truly original.
From the moment the curtains close, we’re thrown into a hyper-saturated, whimsical, almost cartoon-like world – a surreal atmosphere that Ulman (who also plays Elena, the director, in the movie) enhances by constantly playing with perspective, shifting from quirky camera angles and TikTok-style cuts to unexpected animal point-of-view shots. The quiet rituals of people’s rural daily life are suddenly disrupted by the shallow, invasive gaze of the foreign crew.
At first the characters come across as hard to love – annoying, naive, offensive even – but later this quite clearly seems to be the point, as they represent the “Western” media class obsessed with content and detached from every reality outside of their own, leading to a deep level of ignorance and complete lack of ethics: everyone is so focused on themselves and their own relationships that they miss the real human stories in front of them. Behind their constant mocking of the local culture, the director delivers a smart critique (though not always tightly executed) of the exoticizing white gaze and the cynical exploitation behind typical “Western” documentary entertainment. An unmistakable queer energy also permeates it all, not just in terms of sexuality and gender, but also in the way the group challenges traditional norms and embraces fluidity in relationships and identities.
The film explores several social themes and introduces multiple storylines, although these often feel more like narrative embellishments than fully integrated elements of the plot. At the same time, some characters’ contributions to the narrative remain unclear; a few of them even fade into the background, “disappearing” mid-narrative (e.g., Popa, the local woman who helps the crew set up their “fake” documentary), or are seemingly forgotten altogether (e.g., abuela Marita, whose actions are part of the reason why the group ends up in the wrong location). While all of this fragmentation likely mirrors the crew’s disinterest in anything outside of themselves, a bit more attention to this aspect might have helped the story feel more cohesive and complete.
There’s something comically enjoyable about watching these clueless individuals embarrass themselves, and the film’s commitment to its chaotic, eccentric vision is what makes it easily distinguishable, all despite its struggles to maintain a consistent flow. Magic Farm resists easy categorisation, inviting the viewer to sit with discomfort, contradiction, and chaos. It’s not always coherent, and while it won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, it certainly has something to say. Messy, meaningful, and oddly touching, it celebrates the power of community, balancing sincerity and satire with a playful touch of absurdity.
Presented at the Sundance Film Festival last January, Magic Farm is now available for streaming on MUBI (USA, UK, and Ireland), Apple TV+ (for rent or purchase), and Amazon Prime Video (for preorder).
Photos: MUBI
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