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The image lingers through the movie, a talisman both eerie and exalted.
We get no flashbacks nothing beyond the hard, aged faces of survivors.
And bones, of course.
Hes very busy these days.
Yes, he says, many of them look as if theyve been scorched in hell.
But suffering is not synonymous with truth.
Thank Heaven that guy isnt the protagonist, orOur Motherswould be even more depressing.
The faces carry traces of grief and anger, but the women are largely stoic.
We stare at them, trying to extrapolate the details of their lives, but they resist us.
They turn out to be real survivors of that village, not actors.
This forensic archaeologist can only dig so deep.
Were not supposed to like her much at first, and we dont.
She withholds too much.
Ernesto has been floating through life, unconnected from his roots.
Now, his own past is exhumed.
It feels ghastly, and it feels right.
