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.

The sparseness emphasized by The Settlers’ cinematography also extends to its characters, which is both a boon and a shortcoming. Despite the relatively limited amount of dialogue in this script from Haberle, Antonia Girardi, and Mariano Llinás, everything we need to know about MacLennan and Bill—two life-long butchers—comes across each time they pull the trigger. MacLennan, or “The Red Pig” as he’s known to history, revels in the power he’s been given over this domain, and his actions are a response to his previous lack of agency. A late reveal creates an interesting parallel between him and Segundo, adding an implicit commentary about how imperialist forces co-opt those who live under their rule. Meanwhile, Bill never remotely questions his actions; he’s the type of commonplace racist found in his home country. The cruelty of these frontiersmen is in line with other haunting stories about colonial depravity—a Heart of Darkness comparison feels most apt when our crew runs into the quietly unhinged Colonel Martin, played to sinister perfection by Sam Spruell.

But although this mostly non-verbalized characterization works with the majority of the cast, it’s slightly less effective when it comes to our nominal protagonist, Segundo. While Arancibia’s tortured expressions and beleaguered gaze reveal much of what’s going on in his head, his underlying motivations and perspective on his identity could have been better explored if he was granted even a few additional lines. Thankfully, we get something closer to this from Mishell Guaña’s piercing performance as Kiepja, an Indigenous woman whose spirited demeanor and penetrating stare leap from the frame, making her disgust over these events unambiguous.

Perhaps The Settlers’ most surprising turn is a sudden time jump delving into the circumstances that allowed Menéndez’s part in this genocide to be hidden from history (his role in these massacres was only recently fully discovered). As we meet a politician who covers things up to avoid sullying the good name of their nascent nation, Chile, it becomes clear that this tale isn’t just about the horrible people who carried out these crimes once upon a time, but how the ongoing concealment of these deeds ties into a lingering ideological rot.

While this final sequence is exceedingly sharp, the decision to dice this already short, austere film into smaller chunks makes it feel spread a bit thinner than it should. We don’t have quite enough time with this first section, exacerbating Segundo’s underrepresented point of view. Still, even if its structure feels a bit off, both sections of this narrative are defined by a keenness that cuts to the heart of uncomfortable realities. Through adroit filmmaking, The Settlers probes into the unconscionable evils of the past, revealing caked blood under fingernails and whitewashed lies.

Director: Felipe Gálvez Haberle
Writer: Felipe Gálvez Haberle, Antonia Girardi, Mariano Llinás
Starring: Camilo Arancibia, Benjamin Westfall, Mark Stanley, Alfredo Castro, Mishell Guaña
Release Date: January 12, 2024

Elijah Gonzalez is an assistant TV Editor for Paste Magazine. In addition to watching the latest on the small screen, he also loves videogames, film, and creating large lists of media he’ll probably never actually get to. You can follow him on Twitter @eli_gonzalez11.