The Settlers Is a Searing Chilean Western about Colonial Evils and Buried History
Three men maneuver through the fog, their rifles piercing the early morning air as they creep forward silently, mechanically. They take aim at figures in the distance and open fire, the crack of gunfire punctuated by screams. This is the Selk’nam genocide as presented in The Settlers, a searing anti-Western from Chilean filmmaker Felipe Gálvez Haberle. In its unflinching portrayal of historical massacres perpetrated against the Ona tribes of South America, it presents obfuscated truths about colonial atrocities, using its austere direction and sun-bleached color palette to firmly place us in the middle of man-made horrors.
The Settlers opens in 1901 on José Menéndez’s (Alfredo Castro) sheep farm, where men are more disposable than livestock. Menéndez, who’s been granted land by the Chilean government, determines that the native peoples who live on “his” property must be wiped out for the sake of business. To do so, he recruits his underling Lieutenant Alexander MacLennan (Mark Stanley), an ex-British soldier, and Bill (Benjamin Westfall), an American with experience killing natives. MacLennan orders Segundo (Camilo Arancibia), a “mestizo” (someone of both Indigenous and Spanish colonial ancestry) who has impressive aim with a rifle, to accompany them. From here, the trio sweep south, eventually arriving at Tierra del Fuego where they begin their bloody business.
Haberle and cinematographer Simone D’Arcangelo present stark imagery in their pristinely cropped wide shots of placid countrysides, these seemingly scenic vistas given a jittery edge from the sharp strings of Harry Allouche’s score. The Settlers is very clearly a Western, defined by a methodical pace; the slow trek across the land luxuriates in plentiful shots of nature. But unlike the clean digital look that accompanies many modern spins on the genre, a noticeable grain and faded color grading make it seem as though we’re viewing long-abandoned film stock not meant to be seen.
Although there aren’t many scenes that directly depict the violence perpetrated against the Ona people, when they do appear, they’re framed with disturbing matter-of-factness, and the main indication from the filmmakers that we’re witnessing something horrible comes from the lurching pangs of the soundtrack. The friction between these calmly presented images and the frantic soundscape keys us into the settlers’ façade—their outward insistence that they’re introducing “peaceful civilization” is nothing more than a thin veil over the buzzing insanity of mass murder. Just as Menéndez speaks in transparent euphemisms while giving orders to his cronies, it’s evident we’re witnessing the reality behind a poorly kept secret.
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