During a reading of what was then his forthcoming book The Childhood of Jesus, JM Coetzee expressed what he had in mind for its publication: “I had hoped that the book would appear with a blank cover and a blank title page, so that only after the last page had been read would the reader meet the title, namely The Childhood of Jesus.”
Coetzee’s Jesus trilogy, made up of The Childhood of Jesus, The Schooldays of Jesus and The Death of Jesus, is about a man and a young child – two strangers who find themselves flung together in an incidental father-son dependency.
After leaving behind their histories and languages, the pair meet during their crossing into a fictitious land where they’re assigned names: Simón for the man, and David for the boy.
Now, seven years after the final book’s publication, the trilogy has been brought to the screen by Portuguese director Tiago Guedes, becoming the film Aquí starring Manolo Solo and Alex Peláez as Simón and David, respectively.
Originating from a set of books totalling about 900 pages, Aquí is no doubt a saga – a three-hour and 20-minute one at that.
“The first cut lasted four hours and 45 minutes,” filmmaker Guedes tells Cineuropa. “At one point we set the goal, perhaps a little idealistic, of reducing the film to three hours. But when we started to see the different edits, we realised that we couldn’t cut any more.”
The film’s duration doesn’t quite fly by. Still, it sustains intrigue well enough, starting with a dystopian-like premise that follows Simón’s determination to find David’s mother, or just any mother, as a matter of fact.
When David and Simón approach a woman playing tennis, she’s reluctantly roped into being the boy’s second parental figure alongside Simón. One of their first challenges is David’s schooling, where he resists engaging in the classroom yet eventually reveals that he’s been concealing remarkable reading and writing skills.
But when David’s instructed to write “I must tell the truth”, he writes instead, “I am the truth” – establishing the story’s biblical allegory.
As BD McClay writes of Coetzee’s work for The New Yorker, the character’s names, too, hold undeniable biblical allusions: Simón, the man who recognised the child Jesus; David, the house from which Jesus descended; and Inés, meaning chaste or pure.
In this way, the film’s first act, which covers Coetzee’s first novel in the trilogy, sparks intrigue by planting questions about who this strange boy is and why this unusual non-place he’s found himself in holds such powerful regulatory control over its people through language and social stakes.
“We must try to get along with the others,” Simón tells David when the boy expresses his hatred for speaking Spanish. “One way of doing that is to speak the same language.”
“That is the rule, and it is a good rule, so we must obey it,” he goes on to explain. “Not only obey it, but do so with an open heart and goodwill. Because if you refuse, you will find yourself living in a private world without friends.”
However, it’s in its latter 90 minutes that the film begins losing steam, as it shifts towards a series of events that hold a greater sense of figurative, and frequently ambiguous, literariness, which leaves much of the first act’s curiosities unresolved.
The strength of a film adapted from a book, or several books in this case, often lies in its ability to distil rather than to be all-encompassing. So, it’s in Aquí’s persistence to encapsulate the full thematic breadth of Coetzee’s work that becomes the film’s downfall.
Every other scene seems to be punctuated by David quizzing Simón on the meaning of abstract concepts like human nature and value, weighing the film down by incessant philosophising that detracts from its natural thematic core: fatherhood.
Manolo Solo’s performance as Simón carries an empathetic melancholy, capturing his complicated feelings about his involuntary role as a child’s guardian, while still acknowledging his undeniable bond with and need to protect David.
Against the detached flatness of the portrayal of young David, Solo brings a compassionate emotional weight to the father-son relationship. In the final act, David is played by an older actor, Hugo Encuentra, who instils a much-needed charisma and spirited depth in the character.
Each chapter of David’s life – corresponding to each book in the trilogy – is marked by a change in the film’s aspect ratio, which tightens in on the characters to become increasingly claustrophobic as threats of conformity and illness close in on the family.
Aquí is also a film void of a score, heightening the bleakness of its sterile, panoptic landscapes. Music only enters the narrative during the middle portion, where an oddly poetic style of contemporary dance takes centre stage as the mode through which David expresses his singular perception of the world.
Like the movie’s narrative itself, David’s style of dancing and, by extension, his understanding of life, defies comprehension. Some literary critics and scholars suggest that giving into the trilogy’s elusiveness is a valuable approach to the text.
“One of the ways in which we make it easier for ourselves to read novels that are baffling, and there are none so baffling as [Coetzee’s Jesus trilogy], is to look for a message,” Derek Attridge tells David Attwell during a conversation for LitNet’s literary podcast.
The Jesus trilogy, Attridge says, “resists the search for a message”. And it’s a view that Attwell endorses through the suggestion that “one should lose oneself”, much like how one would partake in a dance, to the books’ peculiarities.
Yet by watching the trilogy’s film adaptation, and experiencing a three-book-long story in one sitting, there does seem to be something noticeably missing. There are seeds left unplanted, leaving the spiritual gravity of the final act, taken from Coetzee’s The Death of Jesus, to feel ungrounded in narrative context.
Aquí is, without a doubt, a daring adaptation that challenges the audience not only through its runtime but also through its symbolic essence.
For avid readers of Coetzee, Guedes’ work could make for a fascinating subject of critique. As a standalone feature, however, it might leave one wondering whether the film’s vague mythological logic was worth the three-hour commitment. DM
Aquí is screening at the European Film Festival South Africa on 24 September.
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Facts Only
* The book trilogy comprises *The Childhood of Jesus*, *The Schooldays of Jesus*, and *The Death of Jesus*.
* The story concerns two strangers who form an incidental father-son dependency.
* Simón is assigned the name Simón, and David is assigned the name David.
* Seven years after the final book's publication, the trilogy was adapted into the film *Aquí*.
* The film features Manolo Solo as Simón and Alex Peláez as David.
* The source material totals about 900 pages.
* The film duration is three hours and twenty minutes.
* David resists classroom engagement but demonstrates reading and writing skills.
* David writes, "I am the truth," establishing a biblical allegory.
* Character names hold biblical allusions: Simón (recognized Jesus), David (house from which Jesus descended), and Inés (chaste/pure).
* The film is void of a score.
Executive Summary
The adaptation of Coetzee’s Jesus trilogy into the film *Aquí* involves a man and a child assigned names, Simón and David, who become entangled in a father-son dependency within a fictitious land. The narrative originates from approximately 900 pages of source material. The film explores themes of language, social stakes, and allegory through the characters' experiences, including David's journey through schooling and the establishment of biblical allegories regarding names like Simón, David, and Inés.
The film’s structure shifts focus across its three acts; the first act introduces intrigue about the boy and his environment, while the latter ninety minutes focuses more on figurative and ambiguous literariness. The adaptation involves an evolution in the character dynamics, with a shift in aspect ratio reflecting mounting claustrophobia as conformity and illness approach the family. Performance variations occur, with Manolo Solo portraying Simón with empathetic melancholy, evolving into Hugo Encuentra for David in the final act. The film avoids a score, focusing the narrative through visual language and contemporary dance during the middle portion.
Full Take
The process of distilling complex literary themes into cinematic form reveals tensions between narrative cohesion and thematic breadth. The film’s reliance on incessant philosophical exposition regarding abstract concepts like human nature, while intended to deepen the allegory, appears to detract from the central focus on fatherhood, suggesting a conflict between expansive philosophy and focused dramatic action. The adaptation struggles to resolve the initial intrigues planted in the first act, as the later segments prioritize figurative literary exploration over narrative necessity. This suggests that attempting to encapsulate the full thematic scope of Coetzee's work resulted in a dilution of impact rather than an enhancement.
The dynamic shift in performance—from Solo’s empathetic melancholy to Encuentra’s spirited depth for David—mirrors the textual progression, mapping claustrophobia onto the familial structure as external pressures intensify. The visual modulation via changing aspect ratios reinforces this sense of constriction, suggesting that the film’s method of adaptation prioritized symbolic essence over straightforward narrative completion. A deeper consideration arises regarding the stated pursuit of a "message" versus the text's inherent resistance to singular interpretation, prompting questions about what happens when narrative context is intentionally subordinated to literary elusiveness in translation.
What assumptions underpin the necessity of relentless philosophical quizzing within this framework? Does the film prioritize mirroring the ambiguity of Coetzee’s work, or does it fail to ground its abstract explorations sufficiently for the audience? Furthermore, if the goal is to resist the search for a message, what responsibility does the adaptation have to establish even minimal narrative anchor points for those who engage with the material outside the context of literary scholarship?
Sentinel — Human
The text reads as human-authored literary criticism, smoothly integrating textual analysis with cinematic observation to explore thematic implications.
