The Settlers is a 2023 historical drama set in the Tierra del Fuego archipelago with the Selk’nam genocide lying at its heart. In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the Onawo or Ona people, (also known as Selk’nam), were systematically, enslaved, raped and murdered by land-grabbers hailing from Europe and South America itself, in their rapacious efforts to plunder as much fertile property as they could. One of the aims was to herd livestock across the unclaimed wilderness and have no obstacles standing in their way – and more specifically, remove all witnesses to such blatant levels of annexation. It was said that sheep were being unlawfully taken by the Selk’nam and used for food – although this seemed, at best, a flimsy excuse for the intruders to take the action they did.
Although the region is divided between Chile and Argentina, it is nonetheless an unruly terrain – no rule of law refutes whimsical decisions made by avaricious, hostile merchants and administrators - those who have limited understanding of how the gentle, indigenous people live in the area. From the slopes of the Patagonian Mountains sweeping in a gentle horseshoe towards the indomitable Cape Horn, marking where the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans collide, the archipelago stretches out as far as the eye can see. Beyond the dales and rustling grasses, lie valleys of lush, abundant earth – windswept, soft rains falling on its foothills, from craggy outcrops to the ebb and flow of the sea. It is the part of absentee, distant owners, and new wealth, who threaten the fragile eco-system that has always been the lot of the Selk’nam. With their subjugation, comes the Western disease of capitalism. As forays into the wilderness grew ever more daring, the Selk’nam were ritually killed with unfeeling carelessness, dispatched with so little concern as to cause barely a ripple. One such marauder was Scotsman Alexander MacLennan - imbued with the cruellest of natures, he was nicknamed Red Pig (Chancho Colorado) due to his direct participation in the mass murder of Ona, and the name stuck. A massacre at Cabo de Peñas witnessed 17 Selk’nam slaughtered. The perpetrators utilised the macabre practice of severing an ear post-mortem which was then used as proof of death. The ears were pierced, strung together in a gruesome line and provided to the people in charge, where each ear was accorded a bounty. It is shocking to think that killing and mutilating another human being became an essential and brutal representation of progressive colonialism at the time.
José Menéndez, (played with quiet menace by Alfredo Castro), was born 1846, in Avilés, the Spanish Principality of Asturias. Poorly educated, he decided to try his luck overseas and saw a business opportunity in the Spanish speaking countries of South America. He selected to decamp to the region at the tender age of 20, arriving in Buenos Aires sometime in 1866. From there, he learned the trade of bookkeeping, going on to work as a merchant, factory owner, and cattle-trader. By 1876, he was married with several children. At the era the film was set in, Menéndez was known as the de-facto ‘King of Patagonia’ based on his wealth and influence.
It is now 1893. Early moments in The Settlers shows Menéndez seated in a tent on the desolate grasslands of the Archipelago, hiring candidates to cross the prairie in search of a herding route between the Atlantic and the Pacific. The mission entrusted to Alexander MacLennon (Mark Stanley), is to find the way, but more importantly, secretively rid the zone of the local Indian population. Joined in his quest by an obsequiously oily American ‘gun for hire’ Bill (Benjamin Westfall), MacLennon is determined to prove his fealty to Menéndez and purge the land from its ‘interlopers’. The third person involved in the hunting party is Segundo (Camilo Arancibia), who is himself Selk’nam. Segundo is located building fences with other migrant workers and ordered to join the group. The fact that Segundo’s sharp-shooting skills are the conduit for being hired and he is expected to track and execute his own tribe, is immensely distressing but the alternative is death if he refuses. Camilo Arancibia is just an astonishing actor. He does not have many lines, but what he lacks in dialogue, is more than compensated for by the intense commitment Arancibia brings to the role.
From the onset, MacLennon, Bill, and Segundo, compose an unlikely alliance with the unfolding drama and unravelling of personalities. Each enforced contact among them, brings renewed and heightened unease. Cleverly Haberle affords rotated weight to the roles – Segundo is witnessed as inexorably linked to his surroundings, soothing horses when they succumb to night terrors, submitting to a compulsory association with Bill and MacLennon, yet all the while trying to see a way out of his predicament. Bill comes across as weak and disloyal – his subsequent predilection to betray with ease, leads him into the greatest of danger but even from the onset, the likelihood of Bill turning on his partner lurks in the background. He is the perfect balance connecting Segundo’s subdued fervour and MacLennon’s impulsive actions. MacLennon however, while bombastic and essentially a bully, is the most enigmatic of the trio. He seems to be overcompensating for a lack - what that is, becomes apparent as the film advances. The point here is that Haberle maintains an adroit balancing act linking his lead players. One role does not overwhelm the other and when necessary, recedes where a different character is allowed come to the fore and take the spotlight. It is an immensely mature and skilful approach to mise-en-scene, belying the fact that this is Felipe Gálvez Haberle’s directorial debut.
As the protagonists are forced into greater proximity, this encourages a speedier and faster progression within the narrative by propelling it to unfurling more nuanced components of the story. These tense, shared moments prompt growth and shifts so that subtle chords of the tale can reach maturation. Haberle applies a mechanism of glances, interchanges, and discourse involving the group so that their story can evolve, personal development is assured, inner struggles become evident, and the saga continues without stalling or falling into a rut. It is the deftest of techniques but extremely successful. The close, confined scenes involving Segundo/Bill/MacLennon are in marked contrast to the mutely, unforgiving countryside. Vast landscapes traversed remain as silent, co-existing collaborators in the saga, marking pace and movement, lending resonance to the chronicle.
Only two female actresses really hold any influence in The Settlers. Neither role is weighty, but both are pivotal. Rosa/Kiepja (Mishell Guaña), an Indian held captive by a separate faction of mercenaries and Josephina Menéndez (Adriana Stuven), the wife of José Menéndez. They are clearly on opposite sides of the fence – Rosa bristles with untrammelled fury when spoken to at the campsite where she resides. While she does not say much, her gaze speaks of unimaginable horrors. Rosa epitomises tribal resistance through an exceptionally powerful medium, that of unspoken rebellion, and it is incredibly effective. Josephina, on the other hand, believes in the necessity of her husband’s actions and maintains that she has fed and educated Ona children. Hers is a tireless devotion to what she feels is a just cause.
The Settlers tries hard (and succeeds) in telling a story worth witnessing – it is narrated through the veil of memory and recalled spoken words, which can sometimes be fickle associates. Historical dramas often become a mesh of disassociation, a mixture of ideas, thoughts, and point of view. There is no doubt that the Selk’nam suffered terribly. Whether anyone tried to truly help them and alleviate their plight, is somewhat ambiguous when reading the film. What is clear however, is that for Felipe Gálvez Haberle, this is just the beginning of directorial greatness.
