‘Hombre al Agua’ Review: Gael García Bernal Directs and Stars in a Sputtering, Screwball-y Dramedy About One Man’s Identity Crisis

Sifting through Gael García Bernal’s recent roles — from the namesake conquistador of Lav Diaz’s “Magellan,” the grieving wife-guy in Piero Messina’s droopy sci-fi “Another End,” and the fast-aging family man of M. Night Shyamalan’s “Old” — won’t give you much insight on “Hombre al Agua,” which translates as “man overboard.” Except that unlike those international productions, García Bernal’s third directorial feature caters to the home side as a quasi-popular Mexican dramedy whose gags and in-jokes will play — if for anyone — more effectively to a Spanish-speaking crowd.

That’s not to make excuses, but to put in context, what is also a sputtering, screwball-y film about masculine roles in a waning patriarchal society. Get the script’s nuances or not, this awkwardly low-energy undertaking doesn’t make much of a case for García Bernal as a director, but as a star text in the mode of “Déficit,” his 2007 directorial debut, it’s got a fair bit to chew on by its own prismatic design. A TIFF slot will follow its premiere in Venice’s Spotlight section, and García Bernal’s profile is sure to fuel a healthy festival run. 

Bits of narration from an offscreen speaker give the film a fairytale feel, a vibe matched by the rustic splendor of its chateau setting, where Camilo (García Bernal) lives with his athlete wife Jauna (Esmerelda Pimentel) and baby daughter. Camilo’s fortune, we learn from the opening address, came by a stroke of luck when he saved Juana’s businessman father Abel (Jorge Salinas) from drowning. Eternally grateful, Abel swiftly moved the Cuban lifeguard to Yucatán and placed him in a cushy corporate post at one of his companies. Jauna’s affections were secured shortly after — though apparently a jadedness has set into the marriage when the present timeline kicks off, and a rushed sex session devolves into a minor spat over who must tend to the crying babe. And does Juana even want to be touched by her husband? Facing the other direction, she asks him to make love to her with a different accent; to pretend that he’s another guy — maybe a Colombian dude. “From Cartagena or Bogota?” Camilo mutters. 

“Hombre al Agua” then spins out into a game of shifting identities as a flurry of eccentric characters settle into the couple’s household. There’s Fabiana (Débora Nascimento), a statuesque Brazilian actress shadowing Jauna to prepare for a role as a pole-vaulter. Silvina (Natalia Oreiro), the Argentinian mistress and baby-momma of Abel, suspiciously begs Camilo to keep an eye on her while he recovers from a car accident. His daughter’s no-nonsense nanny, Malvina (Anna Diaz), side-eyes her bougie employers, while Silvina’s scruffy ex-husband, Ricardes (Manuel Garcia Rulfo), creeps around the gardens, occasionally drawing Camilo into a heart-to-heart. Meanwhile, at the factory Camilo manages for Abel, he’s a fumbling boss-man tasked with firing veteran workers and curbing their efforts to organize.

The scenarios are vaguely zany, as when Fabiana Method-acts her way into Camilo’s bed, but the winding chattiness of the comedy is flatter than it is dry — like a bubbly beverage left too long uncapped. Pivots into a black-and-white Brazilian telenovela, which Camilo tunes into nightly while on baby duty, feed into the film’s nesting-doll narrative on paper, but in practice make for annoyingly gratuitous flourishes. In any case, the procession of masks, roles and stories (or versions of a story) that filter throughout make sense for what is ultimately an actor’s movie about the instability of a life lived as a series of parts. The web of characters make for a vaguely amusing assembly of nationalities, types and stereotypes, but insofar as they reflect back Camilo’s selves, that aspect is far too bleary and imprecise to build out a convincing personal crisis. 

As the unravelling of a relationship, however, “Hombre al Agua” has a bit more going for it when Jauna decides to direct a movie about her own life, casting Fabiana (whom she may or may not be sleeping with) as herself and Robbie (Ricky Martin, making a brief stunt appearance) as a version of Camilo. Buried resentments come out through the script, and when Robbie unexpectedly drops the part, Camilo steps in to play himself, allowing for one of the film’s more arresting scenes, in which Jauna tenderly directs a sort of couple’s therapy between Camilo and Fabiana-as-Jauna.

It’s the peak for a movie that otherwise proceeds lifelessly though a few more unearned and perfunctory twists. Blowhard Abel, who is running for local office and wants Camilo as his right-hand man, turns out to be a Faustian figure whose influence must be denounced. Avenues for Camilo’s enlightenment while still remaining distinct and vivid personalities, the women impose change on García Bernal’s hapless hero, who might be the least interesting among them.