The Practice (La Práctica)

Directed by: Martín Rejtman
Distributed by: Gravitas Ventures

Written by Michael Clawson

80/100

The first film in a decade from comic poet of the mundane Martín Rejtman, “The Practice” shows that the progenitor of New Argentine Cinema has not lost his touch. But his style has evolved, if only in subtle ways. Full of witty rhymes, repetition, and dry humor, the film’s depiction of a yoga instructor in the midst of a breakup reflects the same deadpan sensibility as previous Rejtman features, from the influential “Silvia Prieto” from 1999, through the director’s most recent film, 2014’s “Two Shots Fired.” But in contrast to Rejtman’s last effort, which boasted black comedy and leisurely pacing, “The Practice” has brighter tones and a snappy, almost screwball musicality. It marks the delightful return of a filmmaker forever keen on probing the absurdity of modern life and relationships.

While the story centers on the mid-life travails of Gustavo (Esteban Bigliardi, “The Delinquents”), “The Practice” keeps with other Rejtman comedies in sprawling outward to encompass a handful of colorful eccentrics. A yoga instructor in Chile, Gustavo’s daily life is upended by a torn meniscus and an impending divorce, the latter forcing him to move out of the apartment he shared with his wife, who also teaches. Through yoga classes, wellness retreats, and doctor’s visits, Rejtman fills out Gustavo’s social orbit. There’s the young woman in Gustavo’s class who mistakes his attentiveness for romantic interest, a misunderstanding that’s temporarily resolved by an earthquake that leaves the woman with a memory-wiping head injury (a very funny bit). There’s also Gustavo’s mother, who helicopter-parents via Skype as she frets about her son’s bum knee and crumbling marriage. And then there are potential new companions for both Gustavo and his wife, who each reconnect with former students.

Rejtman charts these relationships with formal precision and a deft comedic hand. His direction of actors and blocking evoke Wes Anderson, but with a preference for minimally adorned images rather than highly detailed ones. The performances are deliberately drained of expressiveness; they mute the film’s energy level, functioning in counterpoint to the spryness of the editing. Preston Sturges by way of Bresson is another way to describe “The Practice,” which manages to absorb even farcical moments into its mild manner. In one fine stroke of visual comedy, Gustavo’s mother pays him a visit, and he hides that he’s wearing a leg cast to avoid her fussing. Rejtman frames them in wide shots that show Gustavo keeping his leg out of view. It’s a charming example of a comic form that can feel like a lost art in the movies of today.

Memory lapses, prescription meds, and digital tech are among the many recurring motifs, each serving as either a potential disruption or a possible aid as characters pursue inner contentment. What exactly tranquility looks like, and how one might achieve it in the contemporary world, is at the heart of “The Practice,” and what provides it with a subtle philosophical underpinning. To medicate, or to meditate? Whatever the answer for someone might be, Rejtman’s mirthful cinema suggests that humor is its own kind of palliative.

“The Practice” Clip

Michael Clawson is a member of the Seattle Film Critic Society you can follow his passion for film on Letterboxd.