It begins with an act of defiance so audacious, so utterly improbable, it borders on the fantastical. Yet, nestled within the heart of Sergio Cabrera's 1993 masterpiece, La estrategia del caracol (The Strategy of the Snail), is a profound truth about human resilience and the quiet dignity found in fighting for one's home. This isn't your typical 90s blockbuster fare, the kind screaming from the neon-lit shelves of the video store. No, discovering this Colombian gem felt like uncovering a secret whispered between cinephiles, a film operating on a different, more soulful frequency.
A House Worth Fighting For
The premise is deceptively simple: the tenants of 'La Casa Uribe', a large, dilapidated but deeply loved house in the heart of Bogotá, face eviction by a wealthy, uncaring owner. Legal channels, spearheaded by the earnest lawyer Romero, nicknamed 'Perro' ('Dog') and played with weary brilliance by the late, great Frank Ramírez, prove fruitless against a corrupt system. Faced with homelessness, what options remain? It's here that the film pivots from social drama into something truly special, guided by the quiet wisdom of Don Jacinto (Fausto Cabrera, the director's own father, lending a beautiful layer of gentle authority), an old anarchist exiled from the Spanish Civil War. His idea? If they can't keep the house legally, they'll take it with them. Literally.
The Slow, Steady Shell Game
What unfolds is the titular "strategy": a meticulous, clandestine, and utterly ingenious plan to dismantle the entire interior of the house – floors, walls, fixtures, everything of value and memory – and relocate it piece by piece, all under the noses of the authorities and the owner's smug lawyer. It's a David and Goliath story reimagined as a feat of communal engineering and collective spirit. The film never treats this fantastical plan with outright whimsy; instead, Sergio Cabrera, who also co-wrote the screenplay, grounds it in the tenants' desperation and determination. Their methodical work, often conducted by candlelight or shielded by elaborate distractions, becomes a powerful metaphor for resistance against seemingly insurmountable forces. Remember the sheer patience required back then, waiting for a tape to rewind? Imagine that patience applied to moving mountains, or in this case, a multi-story building.
The brilliance lies in how the strategy reflects the community itself. Each tenant contributes their unique skill, their personality quirk becoming essential to the intricate operation. There's the stage magician whose illusions create diversions, the resourceful handyman, the devout woman whose faith somehow shields their activities. Ramírez as 'Perro' Romero is the reluctant anchor – cynical, world-weary, yet possessing the sharp legal and strategic mind needed to orchestrate the impossible. His performance is a masterclass in understated complexity, his initial skepticism slowly giving way to grudging admiration and finally, committed leadership. It’s a performance that feels utterly authentic, capturing the weight of responsibility shouldered by ordinary people pushed to extraordinary lengths.
Beyond Bogotá: A Universal Tale
While deeply rooted in the socio-political landscape of early 90s Colombia – the stark class divides, the frustrating bureaucracy, the ever-present threat of displacement – The Strategy of the Snail resonates universally. Haven't we all felt powerless against impersonal systems at some point? The film taps into that shared frustration but offers not just anger, but ingenuity and solidarity as a response. It became a phenomenon in Colombia and across Latin America, winning numerous awards, including the Goya for Best Spanish Language Foreign Film. Shot with modest resources, its production mirrored the resourcefulness depicted on screen, proving that compelling storytelling transcends budgetary limitations. Finding a copy on VHS, perhaps tucked away in the 'World Cinema' section often relegated to a dusty corner shelf, felt like discovering treasure. For many outside Latin America, it was likely their first real taste of the vibrancy of Colombian filmmaking.
The film’s tone walks a delicate tightrope. It’s often genuinely funny, deriving humour from the absurdity of the situation and the characters' interactions, yet it never diminishes the gravity of their plight. Moments of suspense are real – the near-discoveries, the ticking clock of the eviction deadline. But overriding it all is a warmth, an affection for these characters and their shared struggle. There’s a touch of magical realism, not in overt fantasy, but in the sheer audacity of their plan and the almost mystical way the community pulls together. The final reveal – the culmination of their strategy – is one of the most satisfying and unexpectedly moving moments you’ll find in 90s cinema. (Spoiler Alert!) Seeing the empty shell of the house, graffiti defiantly proclaiming their departure ("Here is your fucking house, painted"), while knowing the essence of their home travels with them, is pure cinematic poetry.
Why It Endures
What lingers long after the credits roll isn't just the cleverness of the plot, but the unwavering spirit of its characters. It’s a testament to the power of community, the importance of dignity, and the extraordinary things ordinary people can achieve when they unite for a common cause. It reminds us that sometimes, the most effective resistance isn't loud protest, but quiet, meticulous, and brilliantly unconventional action – the strategy of the snail. It’s a film that might have slipped under the radar for many during the VHS boom, overshadowed by louder, flashier imports, but its heart and intelligence make it an essential discovery for anyone seeking something more.
Rating: 9/10
This score reflects the film's masterful blend of social commentary, humour, and heart, anchored by brilliant performances and a truly unique, unforgettable premise. It’s a near-perfect example of how cinema can be both deeply entertaining and profoundly meaningful, a testament to resilience that feels just as relevant today.
The Strategy of the Snail is more than just a movie; it's a fable for our times, a reminder tucked away on a dusty tape that ingenuity and solidarity can, quite literally, move houses – and perhaps, mountains too. A true gem worth seeking out.