Her Deadly Jewels | JIBARO
“I and my companions suffer from a disease of the heart which can be cured only with gold.” - Hernán Cortés
Greed, lust, and violence - the darkest corners of human history are riddled with them. They are sly motivators and convincing temptations, rooted in nothing but treacherous instinct. But despite the efforts of most to turn away from that which would bring harm, I believe it’s important to remind ourselves of what happens when we give in. Love, Death + Robots season 3 episode 9 titled Jibaro, is a jarring look into just that. This episode is a 17 minute long masterpiece of stimulating sound design and haunting, bizarre visuals. We follow an unnamed knight through his interactions with a deadly siren, deaf to her calls but intoxicated by the jewels that adorn her body. In a harsh allegory of colonialism and toxic relationships, Jibaro weaves a complex story with invigorating stylistic choices and without uttering a single word.
Spoiler warning:
This episode is only 17 minutes long, so there’s not too much to lose by watching it before you continue onwards. A fair warning though, it is bloody and weird and not for the faint of heart and will likely leave you questioning the state of your eyeballs. Otherwise, skip to the ☀️ to avoid major plot points.
How much can you gather from a film without even a hint of dialogue? Through intense atmospheric sounds, music and filmography - a whole lot it turns out. The story begins with a group of what appears to be conquistadors and priests moving through a forest whilst a golden, bejeweled woman watches from afar. She slowly makes her appearance, and screams across the water - a harrowing sound that drives the entourage into a killing frenzy, violently scrambling through the lake to get to her, all drowning or slain in the process. All, except a deaf knight who is immune to her calls and manages to make his escape. The siren is confused at his defiance, and subsequently fascinated by the knight, who is in turn enamored by her. But as she attempts to seduce him the true nature of his interest is revealed, as he knocks her unconscious and strips her of her gold and jewels, leaving her bloody and bare in the raging waters. Stumbling through the forest with his sack full of loot he unknowingly makes his way back to her, where drinking from the waters heals his deafness and leaves him vulnerable to her cries. This time he cannot resist her as she wails in anguish, and he flounders in a beautiful death dance to the bottom of the lake.
☀️
Whether you have watched this short film for the first or thousandth time, there is something about it that is so gruesomely enchanting, you just can’t look away. I’ve tried to pin-point what exactly makes it so gorgeously bizarre, and to be truthful there is no solid answer, aside from a general amalgamation of elements that reinforce its ‘uncanny valley’ type feeling. First of all, the fact that this is animation is mind-blowing and also explains why it creates a general uneasiness. Everything, from the characters to the dripping forest around them looks so real but also not-quite-right, unnatural but mundane, surreal and completely sensical. Secondly, the violent frenzy of the conquistadors, the captivating siren and the knight on the lake were choreographed and performed by dancers. The contrast of such savagery with something as beautiful as contemporary dance produced a graceful but peculiar contradiction. And finally, the drastic and jolting audio between the heightened environmental sounds and the dulled perspective of the deaf knight leaves us with whiplash after being thrown around so turbulently. Whether one or all of these components bothered you, what allows this piece to stand out from just being another gruesome, bloody story, is how visceral the experience is. We are caught off guard, not just once, but during the entire 17 minutes, and are left a little bruised from the turmoil. That’s the sort of wild high that leaves you wanting more of this euphoric bewilderment not often found in the mainstream.
Jibaro is a tragedy with no happy ending, not even a glimmer of satisfaction no matter which perspective you see it from. Alberto Mielgo, the mastermind behind it all, specializes in symbolism and extended metaphors, and Jibaro is no exception. Regardless of how you view the story - as an extended metaphor for the horrors incited by the Spanish conquistadors' desire for riches, or the toxic relationships of people destined only to harm each other - it is rife with those three concepts, greed, lust and violence. As pessimistic as it is, we cannot escape from humanity’s weaknesses to temptation. You need only look at world events, both historical and recent, to attest to that. But, like Jibaro, maybe the point is to not look at it through rose-tinted glasses and search for a bright side, but instead stare straight into the tragedy, and feel as uncomfortable as you are supposed to feel. As long as it makes us squirm, there will be reasons and attempts to avoid it, to right what is wrong. Whether that is on a grand, political scale, or as personal as our own relationships, we cannot hurt without being hurt. Neither the siren nor the knight comes through the story unscathed. I am a firm believer in the benefit of the doubt, second chances, accidents and forgiveness, but you cannot have that without feeling every ugly, grotesque, festering consequence. Watching this episode was like doing exactly that, but with no redemption to celebrate. Despair is its own ending, and we are forced to sit with it, like an estranged friend.
As difficult as it is to describe the odd experience that is Jibaro, there is no doubt that the simple story within the hypnotizing scenes folds out into an interesting reflection. Whatever you take from it - an artistic commentary on human nature, or a boatload of question marks - its brilliant ability to subvert expectations solidifies its place as one of the most memorable episodes of a TV series to grace our screens. With the saturation of ideas, themes and tropes in the media, it’s a rare achievement to completely throw an audience off the deep end. Try as they might, not every piece of art can achieve this of course, but when they do, it is deserving of the utmost praise. And perhaps a wide berth if you prefer to stay content.
Love, Death + Robots is an anthological TV series exploring these themes interpreted by a range of extremely talented creators. Jibaro of season 3 episode 6 and directed by Alberto Mielgo is a testament of this high standard of creativity. Watch the series on netflix -> here
