Pablo Escobar’s drug empire made him one of the wealthiest criminals in history, and his brutal tactics were responsible for the deaths of thousands. But more than 20 years after his death in 1993, the Robin Hood-esque persona he cultivated for himself continues to render him a folk hero among some Colombians. Based on a true story, this riveting debut feature from writer/director Andrea Di Stephano offers us a glimpse into Escobar’s deadly appeal.
Starring Oscar®-winner Benicio Del Toro as the notorious Colombian drug kingpin, this soul-searching crime drama pushes the eponymous villain to a more supporting role as it tells the story of a young surfer (Josh Hutcherson, showcasing his talents outside of The Hunger Games franchise) who falls in love with Escobar’s niece and finds himself pulled into the dangerous world of the family business.
INTERVIEW WITH DIRECTOR
What made you want to get behind the camera?
I’ve always been interested in storytelling. It’s in me. Whereas the same cannot be said for directing. I’d never even thought about directing. I just had a story to offer. I can only transcribe what I see in my head. In my view, the director reproduces a sort of dream world of his own creation. I see the most beautiful shots and the best staging in my dreams. I try to bring together the images, the scenes and the emotions in the service of the story, using my experiences as an actor and my cinematographic tastes. I’ve always loved cinema; I’m a fan of Sunrise by Murnau, 8½ by Fellini and all Kurosawa’s work. It’s no doubt my sole passion since childhood. The shoot was not easy, but everyone gave the best of themselves. My obsession was finding the right balance between the emotions and what was going on in front of the camera, so the audience could feel the honesty in the scene, as conveyed by the actors.
How did you handle the actors?
As an actor myself, though not exactly Marlon Brando! I was always a bit frustrated because I had the impression that directors did not always feel our concerns. The actor arrives with his emotional baggage, tensions and expectations, and the director must try to do his best to put him at his ease so he can give everything he’s got when the time comes. Once the scene is done, you must make him think that he has done the maximum when he goes back to the dressing room. That’s what I try to do. I listened to everyone’s ideas, even if I didn’t use them. Films are all about teamwork. I tend to read a script and transpose the story visually, imagining how I can improve it. I’ve always discussed things with directors, so why not do the same with the actors I am directing?
Did the editing seem like writing a new version of your story?
It was another take on it. I had heard other directors say that cutting things out can be hard. I found myself facing different problems, but I always kept the story in mind. That was paramount. It had to immerse the spectator in an atmosphere, and not allow him or her to awaken from it.
What are your influences?
It’s funny, but I only started to see the beauty of an image quite later on. I became a passionate opera fan at 19. When I started in theater, I discovered that the stage and the power of the narrative, combined with music, can inspire deep emotions. That gave me a sort of direction. I’ve always been drawn to cinema built around great stories. My influence is Italian, of course, the cinema of the 1950-60s, but I also really like Japanese cinema.
What would you like audiences to feel when they come out after watching Escobar: Paradise Lost?
I think people go to the cinema because it’s the closest they get to their dreams. The surprising close-ups, the landscapes, the people who express things that you understand later, the music, the images, the sound, the shadows, that’s what people are looking for in a movie theater. And that’s what TV cannot provide. I’d like the audience to feel empathy for Nick and Maria, but also for Pablo.
Despite the horrors he commits?
There’s always the question of how you can recount the positive side of such a horrible, evil character. I’m not a documentarian. My job is just to tell a story, to make a movie with, at the end, a pure philosophical reading of this man. His violent acts speak for themselves.