“Too Late to Die Young,” which takes place in intentional community in Chile, features a remarkable number of actors who can only be credited as “unnamed hippie.” Free-spirited hillside homesteaders gather one Christmas afternoon to talk about connecting to the electric grid but we sense this collective isn’t going to get that together quickly. These ecovillagers live in eucalyptus tinderbox under constant threat of fire, especially since they’re unconnected to the water pump system. Still, residents seem more concerned with plans for New Year’s Eve festivities.
As a ponderous camera wanders over the mountain where the open-ended narrative might shift next, we visit improvised houses with gaps in walls, artworks scattered around, and see adults and children communicate via shortwave radio or by walking through the woods to the next house over.
As much as anyone can be, the star of the picture is the striking 16-year-old Sofía (Demian Hernández), who sets her jaw and goes her own way (perhaps inspired by her cutout photo of Sinéad O’Connor). Cared for by her dad, who crafts stringed instrument by hand, Sofía awaits the promised return of her singer/actress mother on New Year’s Eve.
In the maternal vacuum, another woman offers sensible advice: “The important thing is not getting pregnant.” But for teenagers way out in the sticks, making bad decisions is one of the only diversions available. Sofía’s suitors are Lucas (Antar Machado), who sports an unfortunate hairstyle and puppy dog lust for his neighbor, asking Sofía to “Come to the treehouse after the party.” Her older suitor, Ignacio (Matías Oviedo), seems cooler because he rides a motorcycle and snorts cocaine.
We also meet a younger but equally obdurate girl, Clara (Magdalena Tótoro), who loses her beloved Bernese Mountain Dog in the film’s opening sequence and spends the rest of the film organizing children and adults on an odyssey to find the missing mutt.
Chilean writer/director Dominga Sotomayor Castillo’s film resembles those of Latin American masters—the cinematography recalls Carlos Reygadas in its adept depiction of rural life, and the nuanced community dynamics would fit in a Lucrecia Martel picture. Credit the director for hinting at the various flirtations and conflicts between the adults (as well as oblique references to the dying days of the Pinochet regime) while focusing on the scruffy kids. In one of the film’s many amusing, random moments we’re treated to the revelation that one of the pack is an incredible break dancer.
The New Year’s Eve blowout arrives with its inevitable heartbreaks and breakthroughs, including Sofía’s excellent solo vocal and accordion rendition of a Bangles hit. The first day of the next year arrives with a virtuosic repeated shot from the beginning of the film, as the characters continue revolving around their quiet world.
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