It’s true that big things come in small packages. When directors make short films, they often have a specific artistic goal in mind. They want to discuss big ideas without the barriers or costs involved with a feature-length narrative. Sometimes, the end result is a hodgepodge of themes and ideas that are never fully realized. Other times, short films get right to the point and present the filmmaker’s view in an interesting and easily-digestible way. Allowable Dreams (2017), a short film by Javier Bonafont, might be a bit too short for its own good. Nonetheless, the film finds a great balance between thought-provoking storytelling and a degree of ambiguity that makes it fascinating for cinephiles, film theorists, and philosophers alike.
The film follows a young, bourgeois film student, Zoe (Bianca Stein), hired to make a documentary about a person following their dreams. The company that hired her wants a PR documentary about funding strategies for its clients with some “humanizing bullshit.” As it turns out, the “humanizing bullshit” is a fund for $300,000 that will allow a person of Zoe’s choice to use the money to make their dreams come true.
Zoe sets her sights on Carlos (Roland Uribe), an aging supermarket cashier and the former gardener of Zoe’s wealthy parents. Though Zoe is determined to do a good job on her first “real” job as a filmmaker, Carlos seems disinterested in being the subject of the documentary. He doesn’t mind speaking with Zoe in front of the camera, but in response to Zoe’s reminders about the money and ability to make his dreams come true, Carlos simply says, “I’m fine just the way I am.”
Carlos suggests giving the money to the local food bank. Unfortunately for Zoe, that’s not what her client wants. When Zoe tries to explain, once again, how the project works, Carlos replies, “Ah, well…there is the problem.”
Zoe’s problems multiply when the footage of the interviews appears muddled by static. The images appear unusable to Zoe, but her friends insist that they look fine. As Zoe continues her interviews with Carlos, she comes to find out that he is the son of a Chilean doctor. This leads to further revelations about Carlos’ views of the film project and the nature of Zoe’s ambitions as a filmmaker.
Javier Bonafont touches on a lot of interesting themes in the film. At its heart, it is a fairly blunt critique of the bourgeoisie and fascism under the guise of capitalist enterprise. Allowable Dreams shows how vapid and empty American capitalism can be, while also addressing real historical events that echo the director’s anti-fascist sentiments. Unfortunately, at just over 10 minutes long, the film doesn’t have enough time to give these themes the attention they deserve. At the same time, its brevity encourages viewers to go back for a second (or even third) viewing.
In a sense, Carlos acts as a kind of mentor to Zoe, whose naivety underscores her inability to grasp Carlos’s disinterest. He discourages Zoe from putting all of her hopes in dreams, as they can lead to “darkness.” The nature of dreams and aspirations is another key theme of Javier Bonafont’s work. At first glance, Allowable Dreams seems to be a misnomer. By the end of the film, we are made to believe that dreams are not allowable.
Throughout the film, Javier Bonafont inserts various subtle (and a few not so subtle) critiques of Zoe’s intentions. When she first goes to Carlos’s somewhat old apartment, she throws crumpled newspapers on the ground to get shots of the sad and dilapidated state of his abode. This will ultimately serve the “humanizing bullshit” tone that her wealthy client wants.
While working on the documentary, Zoe also helps film a music video for her friends. Her two friends are emblematic of the hollow “artistry” of the American bourgeoisie. Cherry (Jendayi Bonds) lip-syncs in front of Zoe’s BMW, while Van Clynne (Cruz Rodai) takes pictures and complains about the lack of sex appeal. “Isn’t getting views the point?!” he asks in exasperation.
It’s clear that Zoe wants to make films, but Carlos forces her to question where her dreams stem from. Does she want to be a filmmaker for the love of the art form? Is she just doing it for the money? Or does she dream of something else entirely? We never get an answer to these questions, but they act as a kind of self-referential look at filmmaking. After all, getting views is the point, right?
From a production standpoint, Allowable Dreams is well-made. The actors all give admirable performances, while the script finds a decent balance between narrative exposition and thematic ambiguity. In short, Javier Bonafont’s short film is both entertaining and intellectually stimulating.
My only real complaint with the film is its length. Javier Bonafont sets lofty goals with the film, but it’s difficult to address such complex themes in just 10 minutes. Nonetheless, Allowable Dreams is a great short film that begs for repeat viewings. Moreover, Javier Bonafont shows a lot of promise as a filmmaker with a sincere dedication to the art form.
Rating: ★★★½ out of 5
If you’d like to watch Javier Bonafont’s Allowable Dreams (2017), it is currently available to stream for free on Vimeo. For more film reviews like this one, check out the Philosophy in Film Homepage!