Political drama
- Written and directed by Francisco Vargas
The Violin opens with a brutal scene of torture and rape conducted by soldiers against their helpless, bound victims. Don’t let the title deceive you; this is not a musical.
Although Francisco Vargas’ film of repression and rebellion feels immediate and contemporary, I can’t say exactly when it’s set. To my knowledge, oppression of this level isn’t happening today in Mexico (the film’s country of origin), although it has in the recent past. And it certainly goes on in other Latin American countries.
The story concerns an old farmer and violinist (Ãngel Tavira) secretly active in the 
rebellion. Through his art, he’s able to befriend an army captain and thus gain access to hidden ammunition needed by the rebels (including his son). It’s a strange sort of cat-and-mouse relationship, and one that we know–thanks to that horrifying opening–will end badly.
Vargas denies us the comforts of conventional entertainment. The grainy black-and-white photography and the emphasis on motion and close-ups give The Violin an almost unbearable urgency. We don’t get to revel in the heroes’ victories, and laughter breaks the tension only once in the entire film.
I could reasonably praise The Violin’s edge-of-your-seat suspense, but that could be misleading. This is suspense of a totally different nature than the Hitchcock variety–far more intense and much less fun. You spend almost every minute of this film in terror of what you know is inevitable.
A quick word about the film’s star. Tavira is a musician by trade, but, judging from this film, a natural actor. You can watch him think, and you can watch him hide what he’s thinking. He’s also one-handed, making his violin playing all the more remarkable.
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