Embrace Of The Serpent

The story of the hero on a spiritual journey of healing and self-discovery has a long history in literature and film, and "Embrace of the Serpent" easily fits in that niche. What's different is that this beautiful cinematic voyage is also a savage picture of the ravages of colonialism upon indigenous cultures.

"Embrace of the Serpent," Colombia's Foreign Language nomination for the Oscars, recounts the story of two voyagers connected in time and narrative by one Amazonian shaman, Karamakate (Nilbio Torres and Antonio Bolivar). The film is based on the diaries of two scientists: Theodore Koch-Gr�nberg and Richard Evans Schultes.

As a child, Karamakate witnessed the massacre of his tribe. Convinced that he is the only remaining member left of the Cohiuano, he escapes into the jungle and lives in isolation. His solitude is broken in 1909 by Manduca (Yauen� Migue) who brings his friend, Theodor von Martius (Jan Bijvoet), a deathly ill German anthropologist.

Manduca begs the shaman to save Theo's life. At first Karamakate refuses, accusing Manduca and his tribe of selling out to the whites. But Theo tells the shaman that he has seen other members of the Cohiuano tribe, and he can take Karamakate to see them. So once again, they set off by canoe down the Amazon in search of the Cohiunos and their sacred healing plant, the illusive yakruna, rumored to heal all manners of disease.

Fast forward forty years later when Karamakate is visited by another white man, botanist Richard Evans, who is also seeking the yakruna. Again, the shaman refuses, but eventually gives in to lead the scientist to his goal.
"Serpent" cuts back and forth between these two narratives, and in the process reveals two worlds: The pristine jungle, and its destruction as a result of greedy and arrogant colonialism.

Cinematographer David Gallego shoots the film mostly in black and white, casting a mystical aura around the dense jungle and swiftly flowing river. Color would have been a bonus to bring forth the vividness of the Amazonian jungle, and yet the black and white suggests an other-worldly timelessness to the film. Shots of the land and sky are reflected in the water that brings into focus the two worlds the travelers are crossing: The physical and spiritual.

Colonialism reveals itself in inferences and images. The diagonal markings of the trees and the graves nearby recall the indigenous people forced into slavery to work the rubber plantations. Stumps of decimated trees hug the coastline.

And, of course, with colonialism comes the church, whose followers are determined to save the "noble savages" from themselves. Fanatic priests steal young boys orphaned by the rubber barons who kidnapped their parents, and beat the children into religious submission. A plaque marks the spot of the mission. Signed by the Colombian president, it is in honor of the "brave" men who "saved" these boys from savagery and cannibalism. Forty years later, in a particularly grueling scene, those young boys are now adults under the sway of a white messianic guru, whose megalomaniacal psychosis wreaks its own form of vicious cannibalism.

To become a warrior, Karamakate explains, one has to be in solitude and silence, free of worldly belongings. He urges each scientist to throw away their suitcases containing equipment, photos and journals. Most spiritual journeys contain an arc: The decision to seek, the arduous search itself, and then the climax, ending if one is lucky, in new knowledge. Sometimes it is the journey's hardships that lead to self-awareness (Paul Coehlo's "The Pilgrimage"); other times, the trek is helped by drugs (Carlos Castaneda's "The Teachings of Don Juan: A Yaqui Way of Knowledge"). "Serpent" falls into the latter category, as "caapi" becomes a mystical way for each voyager to talk to the gods and discover answers.

For indeed, the journey means healing not just for Theo and Richard, but Karakamate, too. When he and Theo finally reach his village, he finds his tribal brothers drunk, toasting the end of the world. Colonialism robbed their land and souls. Karamakate's anger devours him such that forty years later, he explains to Richard that he has become a chullachaqui -- an empty shell of himself who drifts the world "lost in time without time." In this second journey, Richard becomes an unwilling guide in Karamakate's quest to reclaim his memories and sing the songs of his people.

Slow but haunting, this multi-layered film is a quiet gem. Nine languages are spoken, and, for the indigenous actors, this is their first film. Nilbio Torres, Karamakate the younger, is excellent in his ferocious rage against the whites who have decimated his land and people, while Antonio Boliver quietly adds dismay and wisdom to the elder.

"Embrace of the Serpent" is worth watching, and not just once.