Amalia Ulman’s idiots abroad comedy “Magic Farm” is a scattershot indictment of Vice News’ exploitative 2010s culture reports. Her sophomore feature’s distaste for clickbait journalism about third-world territories is evident, but Ulman struggles to parse satire and sincerity. It’s a story about reckless, selfish sorta-professionals that never evolves beyond the hipster film crew’s failures in Argentina. Ulman’s slice-of-life approach butts heads with harsher mockeries, underserving the humor of miscommunications. Rampant themes of narcissism, ineptitude, and egotism are worth a chuckle, but “Magic Farm” ultimately succumbs to the same superficiality its screenplay takes to task.
On paper, Ulman’s ideas are enticing. Video content brand Creative Lab feeds their viewers global oddball stories about viral celebrities wearing bunny ears or pointy-shoed Mexican dancers. The channel’s figurehead host, Edna (Chloë Sevigny), is fighting for her life with every post (which echoes Zuckerberg’s falsified pivot to video that doomed online newsrooms). Edna’s next adventure takes Creative Lab to Argentina, hoping to interview local musician Super Carlito. The problem? The San Cristóbal that Jeff (Alex Wolff) assumes only exists in Argentina is a popular city name in other countries, and Super Carlito lives elsewhere. Now, without a hook or connections, Edna’s out-of-their-depth crew must fake a niche investigation that saves their already jeopardized jobs.
As executed, “Magic Farm” is a film hampered by distractions. That’s intentional since Ulman depicts how Latin Americans find it impolite to mention corruption or sadness in front of guests. An underlying subplot about how crop-dusted glyphosates are endangering the surrounding area is a constant reminder of how ridiculous an era of Vice Video became. Edna’s team of nitwits invents a bow-wearing doomsday cult instead of reporting actual news. Zaniness meets tragedy in an abrasive way, as Creative Labs’ braindead filmmaking follies purposefully override herbicidal side-effects that should take center stage. Edna’s vultures pick at a corpse of their creation instead of the rotten one that already exists, but Ulman’s cynical, almost “It’s Always Sunny In Argentina” storytelling approach hardly cleans to the bone.
“Magic Farm” isn’t really about what Edna’s shooting, though. It’s a touristy character study focusing on how Edna’s invading crew interacts with their Argentinian surroundings. There’s a wholesome comedic appeal to Joe Apollonio’s golden retriever of an equipment handler, Justin, as he skateboards around with a dopey grin. Or how Wolff’s self-medicating manchild tries to woo Camila del Campo’s gorgeous Manchi when she’s not climbing trees for data signals. Tension builds as characters hide secrets from one another, like Elena (Ulman) and her pregnancy or Dave (Simon Rex) flying home to handle the suits who control budgets. Although “Magic Farm” can feel random in focus as Edna’s crew jets on little sidequests, actors sporadically shine in their spotlights — but payoffs offer mixed returns.
That’s the ebb and flow of Ulman’s stylistic approach. “Magic Farm” never settles into a groove. It’s stuck in a suspended state of travel vlog puffiness that feels faux-doc; there’s no collaboration between elements. Burke Battelle, aka “Chicken,” provides a quirky and almost Borat-ish score (shades of Gogol Bordello), promoting this sunshiny juxtaposition against toxic realities. Carlos Rigo Bellver’s cinematography is charmingly guerilla, but also overcomplicated as perspectives switch to refrigerator doors, animals, and other jarring first-person angles. Sure, there’s a rad fisheye lens opener that makes it look like someone’s scooting around the globe — but otherwise, these technical choices are unnecessary bells and whistles.
What’s frustrating is how “Magic Farm” delights in spurts. Apollonio and Guillermo Jacubowicz (as the adorable hostel caretaker) strike a natural chemistry, showcasing how Ulman can excel in telling human stories. Then there’s a dip as we’re saddled with Wolff’s emotionally manipulative fuckboi, who gets a random call from an ex-partner back home about an STD scare. Whenever momentum builds, we’re torn in a separate direction. Ulman’s talent as a filmmaker is evident as she highlights underprivileged Argentinian cultures throughout her nonchalant foreign comedy, giving Gen Z Christopher Guest vibes. But the experience lacks connectivity, and invasive fish-out-of-water humor wears thin.
Ulman’s return to Sundance after “El Planeta” sideswipes social commentaries in a travelogue comedy that’s only funny when it’s on course. In “Magic Farm,” poignancy and power get lost in the shuffle. Its MTV-esque brand of juicy drama dulls the journalistic skewering at hand, but that’s Ulman’s intention. She wants us to get lost in the nonsense lifestyles of clout chasers making fools of themselves in Argentina — if only that execution benefitted the significance of key themes. By decentralizing the glyphosate crisis, Ulman’s goofy tale falls into the same patterns as Creative Labs’ tactics. It’s like when an ironic act becomes part of your behavior — never a motivation, but ultimately the result.
