Form aligns with content in “Bardo,” which is about more than one space in between. First, at the heart of the film is the essential homelessness and perpetual longing of an immigrant. Iñárritu is a Mexican who has chosen to live and work in the United States. Significantly, this is Iñárritu’s first Spanish-language film in years, with mostly Mexican actors, presented with Latin America-style magical realism. Next, there is the in-between that separates the film’s lead character Silverio (Daniel Giménez Cacho, in a performance of great feeling and humanity), who makes documentaries, from the real-life writer/director of fictional feature films who is his counterpart.
The movie begins with the birth of a baby, who seconds later whispers something to the doctor. He says he does not want to be born because the world is a mess. So, the doctor and nurses put him back inside his mother. Even a baby just a few seconds old is in the middle between being born and not being born. Continuing the theme of truth and fiction, the baby in the film represents a real-life child who lived just 30 hours, and whose memory still haunts his parents, who cannot let go of the tiny handful of ashes he left behind.
As in “Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance)” this story is told in a subjective, sometimes fanciful fashion. At a party in Mexico celebrating an award being given to Silverio in the US, there is a marvelous dance number to a Bowie song apparently heard by the audience and just one dancer. Then Silverio goes to the men’s room, where he sees his dead father and has a very reassuring conversation, with Silverio shrunk down to child-size. Earlier, we see the shadow of a man walking in the desert. He can almost fly. For brief moments he soars, but his feet keep returning to the sand.