Death of a Comedian

When the ends of our lives approach, many of us may feel that we have tasks to complete before we pass on, undertakings that frequently carry some kind of highly personal meaning. These ventures are also often accompanied by a measure of relevant significance, one that marks a crowning achievement of our lives and serves as a basis for transitioning to whatever comes next. And these endeavors usually come with challenges to surmount, ordeals that require tremendous effort in their fulfillment at a time when such exertion may be hard to muster. Such is the case for Juan Debré (Diego Peretti), the middle-aged longtime star of an Argentine TV superhero show called Scorpion of Justice who has just learned that he’s terminally ill. He’s initially despondent and withdrawn, not knowing what his uncertaimn future holds. But, with time running out, he feels compelled to make a pilgrimage to Brussels, Belgium, the home of a fictional graphic novel hero, M. Bombín, a well-manicured supersleuth investigator who’s a cross of Hercule Poirot, Peter Sellers and Charlie Chaplin and who was the inspiration for Debré to become an actor. Little does he know, however, that, once he’s across the Pond, he’ll become caught up in a Bombín-esque adventure in which he gradually transforms into his childhood idol. So, as Debré prepares to transition from this life to the next, the actor simultaneously transforms into the embodiment of Bombín, corporeally becoming who he was ultimately meant to be. He thus fulfills a destiny he had been unwittingly preparing for all throughout his professional career, moving from playing a role to filling one with real-world purpose. The result is a thoughtful, fun, whimsical tale with a surprising degree of depth for a film that’s essentially a graphic novel brought to the big screen (and whose story is essentially told in the same manner as one of those works). This project was obviously a labor of love for directors Peretti and Javier Beltramino, along with the 10,000+ microinvestors who were part of the crowdfunding process that financed it. This approach also represents something of a democratized filmmaking project, one where even small donors were allowed to provide input into the production and its narrative. Of course, that also proved to be something of a dual-edged sword here, given that it’s apparent a little too much accommodation may have been allowed for in the storytelling itself, which comes across as somewhat disjointed at times (especially in the opening act). However, once the picture settles down and finds its footing, it flows smoothly and engagingly in the second half. And, despite these modest shortcomings, this is a charming offering, not only in telling Debré’s story, but also in creating an entire mythology surrounding the character of Bombín, someone truly worthy of his own film at some point (though with a little more tightening up in the script the next time around). “Death of a Comedian” is a delightful time at the movies, and it comes at a time when we can all use a little more of this kind of escapist fare in our lives.