Aro berria
Irati Gorostidi Agirretxe’s parents were members of the Comunidad Arco Iris near the small town of Lizaso in Nafaroa. The death of Francisco Franco in 1975 suddenly allowed Spanish society to open up and explore new ways of thinking and living. Thus was born Comunidad Arco Iris, an offshoot of the US counter-cultural group, the Rainbow Family. Inspired by her parents’ experience and the historical record, Gorostidi Agirretxe explores this new age community with restless inquiry in her feature debut, Aro berria. And what a debut it is. This “new era” (which is what “aro berria” means) never looked so dated, yet strangely exciting, strangely strange, strangely inviting, strangely repellent and ultimately fascinating.
The film opens in a water meter factory in Donostia in 1978, where workers stage a walk out, commencing a strike. The ritual of a single-file march through the factory is smartly choreographed by Gorostidi Agirretxe and filmed by Ion de Sosa. Not quite Busby Berkeley, but abstractly in the tradition. A group of younger workers see this action as the beginnings of a complete restructuring of the workplace and society. Not so quick, youngsters! At a union meeting, a majority of more seasoned proletarians decide to end the strike, get back to work under some sort of reform conditions, and get on with the need to make a living and the compromises with life in the world as it is.*
Cut to sometime later. We see Eme (Maite Mugerza Ronse) and another of the strike organizers hitching their way to a path in the woods that leads to an old institutional building, newly painted with the all-seeing eyes of Buddha and spindly flowers. Here, they and a bunch of other initiates will partake in an intensive class/indoctrination into the ways and practices of the Comunidad Arco Iris. The weeks-long sessions involve a sort of mix of Reichian therapy and Tantric spiritual philosophies. They find yet another of their old worker pals already involved and in some position of power in the commune. Eme shows her immediate skepticism of the whole thing, when a fellow initiate, a guy, attempts an inept come-on as she settles into her bunk bed in the communal sleeping room. It is largely through her eyes that the life in the commune will be seen.
This cohort of spiritual seekers will proceed through intense physical and psychic exercises that will ostensibly bring them individually closer to their inner cores while collectively breaking their wills. Their programmed lives include therapy sessions, joyless, silent consumption of food and docents quietly hovering about, ringing bells to rouse them from sleep and control the phases of their session – most humorously during a hot and heavy Tantric touching exercise. The basic sexism of Tantra is highlighted when a guru (played by Oliver Laxe, no less) describes a very male-focused intent and prerogative in the sexual act. Meanwhile, the women are a bit more concerned with gynecological issues and where to get an abortion.
The therapy sessions sequences take up much of the film. Disjointed, confusing and compelling, thanks to immersive camerawork, the viewer is transported into the dynamic ballet of grunting, sweating, crying and immense personal reckoning. Ion de Sosa used a similar style in his brilliant filming of Luis Lopez Carrasco’s El futuro, but with Aro berria he’s perfected it to dizzying effect.
Gorostidi Agirretxe makes criticism of the whole movement lightly and smartly. A few words of dialog. An image that subtly subverts the ideology of the commune. And the skeptical asides and small rebellious actions of Eme, who becomes our witness to this strange curve in cultural history.
By the end of the course, the powers that be of the commune decide that Eme will not be allowed to join. Actually something of a relief for her. However, a couple of sequences that complete the film offer a sweet and positive shading to the all the trauma and craziness. One is a final party, where all the participants let loose in a frenzy of ecstatic dancing. Granted, the music they dance to is a bit more house than hippy, but the release is palpable. And a final coda shows a smaller group of course participants just enjoying being together, being a community as they spontaneously and joyfully sing a rousing round of the song, Oi gu hemen, an adaptation of Les Baxter’s Sinner Man with the lyrics rewritten. The Basque version goes like this:
Here we are,
lost in the path,
suffering the pain of death.
An appropriate song for a lost souls to celebrate with. The path to and through the aro berria is brilliantly shown by Gorostidi Agirretxe in all its confusion, wonder and strangeness.
*Gorostidi Agirretxe made a short film, Contadores, in 2023 dealing with the issue of the strike, a sort of a dress rehearsal for Aro berria.