What’s worse than a white savior complex? A movie that hinges its sociopolitical drama on a trope-fueled white savior narrative. First-time writer/director Barney Elliott has admirable intentions for his debut, The Debt—namely, to highlight the exploitation of developing countries’ resources by foreign investors and corporations. A noble goal, indeed. But Elliott chooses to structure his script around three intersecting storylines that never quite connect satisfactorily. Add to that a supposed finance thriller plot that moves about as quickly as sustainable economic growth along with drama that revolves around the intricacies of corporate negotiations and The Debt flounders in a script that only manages to gloss over a host of real-world problems in its attempts to mean well.
The white savior in question is Oliver Campbell (Stephen Dorff), an American hedge-fund manager overseeing a purchase from the Peruvian government that would see his company in control of a sizable amount of Andean land. When his boss, Nathan (David Strathairn), wants to pull out of the deal citing liquidity issues, Oliver heads to Peru with his associate Ricardo (Alberto Ammann) to close the deal himself as quickly as possible, and by any means necessary. Representing the plight of the poor farmers who work the land at stake is the stubborn Florentino Gamarra (Amiel Cayo), but we end up seeing more of his young son, Diego (Marco Antonio Ramírez). In a meeting between the landowners, Gamarra is the only one who voices concern that, under the supposed deal being arranged, they would have no options to fall back on if the “jobs” they are promised working the land fall through. He also points out that the new arrangement would be no different than slavery.
Somehow, the story of María (Elsa Olivero), a nurse trying to navigate social services and Peruvian healthcare to get treatment for her elderly mother, is supposed to intersect with all this economic maneuvering. This side plot is meant to illustrate the strain on social services that exists in countries whose entire economy is feeling the pinch—not just in debt-related land deals—and how that leads people to seek increasingly shady solutions on the black market. It’s by no means an unimportant story, but treating your script like an opportunity to highlight all of a country’s many grievances isn’t how you craft a coherent narrative. Instead, María’s story feels like part of an entirely different movie, her scenes simply spliced into Oliver’s haphazardly.
If the party toasting scene where Ricardo waxes poetic about how, as kids, Oliver embraced him as a brother and saved him from a guaranteed life on the streets induces its fair share of eye-rolls, that’s nothing compared to The Debt‘s finale. Naturally, there’s a reason why Oliver’s company wants to own all this Peruvian land, and it’s a reason that promises them massive returns on their investment. While Oliver’s ignorance of this reason is somewhat unbelievable, what is even more unbelievable is the fact that he expects gratitude and moral admiration from Gamarra for sharing the information and nullifying the deal. This is the same man who hightailed it to Peru to secure this deal with intimidation and shrewd convincing. It’s as if his eyes were opened to the realities behind international trade for the first time.
As a debut, The Debt deserves praise for its ambition, certainly, but its narrative intricacies both stymie the momentum and prevent any thorough elucidation of the complex subjects at hand. The fact that the three separate storylines don’t even begin to come together until well over an hour should have been a sure sign to Elliott that the complicated structure needed tweaking. Gorgeous Andean shots courtesy of cinematographer Bjørn Ståle Bratberg are nowhere near enough to sell this tale of high finance and moral ambiguity.
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