Review by Neil Queen
Stars Catalina Saavedra, Claudia Celedón, Alejandro Goic, Andrea García-Huidobro, Mariana Loyola, Agustín Silva, Darok Orellana, Sebastián La Rivera, Mercedes Villanueva
Written by Sebastián Silva & Pedro Peirano
Certification UK 15 | US Argentina 13
Runtime 95 minutes
Directed by Sebastián Silva
Mercifully, we now live in a society where those signs that say "You dont have to be mad to work here, but it helps" are no longer acceptable, but I trust we'll forgive Raquel, the central character in this darkly tragi-comic little Chilean treat, if she owned one.
Raquel (Saavedra) has spent her entire adult life in a form of benign serfdom as the live-in maid to a wealthy family, trapped somewhere between being an honorary member of the household and a slave. On her birthday, the mother treats her and forbids her from washing up. "But I'll still have to do it later" Raquel pointedly counters, as she clears away the remnants of her birthday cake. After 23 years of it, she has cracked somewhat. This hasn't gone unnoticed, and fearing that she's overworked, the family decide to hire extra help. Offended and territorially possessive over the family, Raquel embarks on a crazed mission to drive out the newcomers, with no stunt too childish to resort to. Think Pauline Fowler blessed with Eric Cartman's DNA. The family may suspect the workings of a psycho, but getting shot of the sneaky Raquel proves a big ask, as one by one, she picks off the newbies - until the arrival of free-spirited Lucy, who refuses to allow the job to get on the way of her life, forces Raquel to stop and look at what she's doing to herself, though thankfully without suffering too much discomfort by tripping over the Dead Poets Society hero-catalyst format.
From a fairly simple, banal set-up, Chilean director Silva manages to rustle up something really striking, truly human, touching and poignant, though no less entertaining. While Raquel's bitchy pranking is played for wry laughs and her gently maniacal behaviour is engrossing, the outer layers are translucent enough to see the harsh realities within. From the claustrophobia of her tiny box room, packed with the signs of her inability to grow into an adult, to the maddening constant drone of household appliances, Raquel has been ground down to nothing by a smiley-faced slave system. Even her basic human rights are non-existant, as the intrusion of the camera deprives her of even the right to shower in privacy. She's a woman who's spirit has been totally destroyed - on a rare day off shopping, she doesn't know what to do with herself, like a beagle set free from a animal experiment lab.
Director Silva walked away from last year's Sundance with the Grand Jury prize for this, and it's easy to see why. In the main he's helped by a great performance from Saavedra as Raquel; initially a believable caricature, fairly primal in her social skills, she deconstructs to invoke the sympathy and pity she deserves. Silva's directorial gaze is informal and personal, highlighting the rub between the humour and the sadness, while making sure we're never more than arm's length from Raquel and her situation. It's easy to laugh at her, but Silva makes sure you understand her pain too. The oppression of domesticity is universal, and The Maid amplifies the banality and maddening absurdity of the mundane in the smartest, most engaging and watchable way.