‘The Chilean’ Locarno Review: A Political Thriller Rooted in Exile
Forced into exile, a Chilean miner and explosives expert becomes entangled with Italian militants while desperately trying to protect the family he left behind.
There were more similarities than differences between the political tensions gripping Chile and Italy in 1976—perhaps the same could be said of 2026—which meant that when Aldo Marín fled one country for the other, he found anything but safety or peace. The remarkable experiences of this real-life figure, chronicled in Juan Cristóbal Guarelo’s book Aldo Marín, carne de cañón, serve as the basis for the latest film from the Chilean director of The Mud Woman. Shot largely in Italy, the film carries the fitting original title Il Cileno (The Chilean).
The Chilean in question is Aldo Marín (Camilo Arancibia), an explosives expert working at a Chilean mine in 1976. After a police raid on his home, he’s forced into exile, leaving behind his wife and newborn son. Accompanied by his friend and fellow miner «El Chapa» (Andrew Bargsted), Aldo arrives in Turin, where the two find work in a factory that pays them poorly and inconsistently. One day, Aldo discovers a bomb planted inside the factory and successfully defuses it. Once the left-wing militants responsible realize who he is, they recruit him to build explosives for a series of planned attacks. They offer him good money and promise to help his family back in Chile. Aldo agrees—but only on the condition that he never has to know what the bombs will ultimately be used for.
Of course, remaining detached proves impossible. His growing relationship with Luciana (Sara Serraiocco), a doctor and underground activist who performs illegal abortions, gradually draws him deeper into the group’s orbit. At the same time, events unfolding back in Chile—and affecting his own family—make the political struggle feel increasingly personal. Despite Chapa’s repeated advice to stay out of trouble, Aldo becomes ever more entangled in the militants’ activities, even as the organization comes under increasing pressure from Italian authorities.
The film follows the familiar blueprint of the classic political thriller, placing it in a tradition that stretches back to Costa-Gavras and other masters of the genre. Director Sergio Castro San Martín maintains a tense, steadily escalating pace, continually throwing his protagonist into increasingly dangerous situations. The combination of mines, explosives, political violence, and labor conflict even recalls Adolfo Aristarain’s Argentine classic Time for Revenge, another story centered on an explosives expert caught between workers, corporations, and political power. Yet The Chilean remains more interested in its protagonist’s personal journey than in offering a detailed portrait of Italy’s political turmoil.
At its heart, this is a story about survival: about resisting repression, navigating friendships, betrayals, love affairs, and, above all, living with the painful consequences of exile. Aldo may reside in Turin, but emotionally he’s still in Chile, consumed by worries about the wife and child he left behind. His initial involvement with the Italian militants is driven largely by necessity—his bomb-making skills are valuable, and they provide him with work and hope. But once he’s drawn into their world, there’s no easy way back, particularly as he witnesses firsthand the social injustices that define both countries.
Occupying the space between film noir and the political thriller—with Simon Guy Fässler’s moody cinematography leaning heavily toward the former—Il Cileno also stands out for refusing to divide its world into clear-cut heroes and villains. Apart from Pinochet’s repressive forces in Chile, the film avoids simplistic moral binaries. By largely sidestepping the intricate specifics of Italy’s political landscape, it ultimately plays less like a historical treatise than a suspenseful crime drama, filled with investigators, conspiracies, betrayals, romances, and shifting loyalties—closer in spirit to the French polar than to a conventional political film.
«This isn’t your war,» one key character tells Aldo. By then, however, the distinction has become meaningless. What began as someone else’s conflict has become his own—not because of ideology, but because survival itself has become the battle.
