Film Review: Borges and Me — A Gentle, Nostalgic Literary Road Trip Richer in Vitality Than Poetry
According to CinemaDrame News Agency, film critic Charlotte Thompson wrote in an exclusive note: The fixation on Jorge Luis Borges, the eminent and celebrated Argentine author, is depicted in Marc Turtletaub’s charming and somewhat biographical film as a colorful and eccentric catalyst for the creative and emotional awakening of a young writer.
American author Jay Parini’s 2020 memoir, Borges and Me: An Encounter, reads like an engaging extension of an anecdote every writer would enjoy telling for the rest of their life: the story of how Parini, as a graduate student in the 1970s, somehow ended up on a winding, unpredictable road trip through the Scottish Highlands with Jorge Luis Borges, the revered Argentine literary legend. Like any good tale, this story has been beautifully elaborated; Borges was undoubtedly a singular character, but on the page he becomes an even more distinct and extraordinary figure—an approach that Marc Turtletaub’s delightful and well-crafted cinematic adaptation seems to build upon as well. As a feature film, Borges and Me might feel stretched slightly beyond its natural capacity, conveying the sense of both an ambitious narrative and a light-bodied story, yet its charm remains intact throughout.
The film makes striking use of the breathtaking, textured splendor of Scottish locations—shot with autumn crispness and clarity by Christopher Aird—resulting in a gently and quietly emotional work perfectly suited for its world premiere on home turf at the Edinburgh International Film Festival. The picture will likely captivate far broader audiences along its festival run toward an international arthouse release, a path facilitated by its transnational ensemble cast of prominent British, South American, and North American actors. This cast features beautifully mismatched leads: Luis Gnecco, the veteran Chilean actor (star of Neruda), playing a vibrant genius, and Fionn Whitehead (Dunkirk), an actor whose British propriety is always apparent but who shines in a compelling role as an American obsessed with British culture turned frazzled chaperone.
The young Parini, portrayed by Whitehead, may be advanced in his studies as a PhD student in English literature at the University of St Andrews in Scotland, but with his slightly crooked horn-rimmed glasses and oversized duffle coat, he exudes the aura of an inexperienced freshman. Native to Pennsylvania and still appearing thoroughly out of place in this environment, his sweet, bashful earnestness makes him an easy target for friendly banter and the bohemian spirit of his academic supervisor, the poet Alastair Reid (played delightfully by Alan Cumming). Reid, a scholar of South American literature and a prominent translator of Borges’s works, invites the author to stay at his rustic seaside cottage. Joining them for a day, Parini finds himself both bewildered and somewhat enchanted by this distinguished, eccentric, and blind 70-year-old guest.
However, he is unprepared to step into the role of Borges’s nurse and caregiver—which happens precisely when Reid departs for London at the last minute, leaving behind only scribbled notes detailing the author’s various medications. As fate would have it, this is the very week Parini had planned to travel into the Scottish Highlands to interview the subject of his doctoral thesis, the reclusive and elusive poet George Mackay Brown (played by Peter Mullan in a brief yet mischievous role). Thus begins a multi-generational, utterly mismatched road trip, featuring far more sightseeing detours than Parini had bargained for. Though unable to take in the scenery visually, Borges relishes every bit of local atmosphere and flavor—to the point of becoming somewhat exhausting for the young American, who is tasked with describing everything for him in poetic detail.
Audiences, too, may identify with this feeling to a degree. Gnecco, in a lively performance filled with distinct mannerisms and gestures, endows Borges with an equal share of mischievous wisdom, colloquial candor, and childlike wonder, rarely letting a moment of silence pass without spirited conversation. When the inexperienced Parini—who had previously recited romantic poetry without truly understanding it—meets Ellie, a smart and kind cafe employee (brilliantly played by Freya Mavor), and the two share a brief interlude, the film catches its breath in the older man’s absence.
Borges’s presence serves as the catalyst for amusing and even touching adventures: a clumsy boat ride across Loch Ness, or an imaginary, hallucinatory visit to an ancient battlefield long buried beneath the grass. Yet the film’s most moving moments are its quietest, focusing primarily on Parini and his internal preoccupations—including the struggles of his brother, a soldier in the Vietnam War who shares little interest in academic pursuits. Whitehead anchors Borges and Me with a stillness and calm necessary to keep the film from sliding into sentimentality or superficiality, though screenwriter Oren Moverman (working from an initial adaptation by Parini and Ross Clarke) oscillates between moments of magnificent poetry and simple, feel-good sentimentality.
The film’s final balance tips slightly toward the latter: for instance, there is relatively little engagement with Borges’s actual writings, though interested viewers have the upcoming five-hour-plus documentary The Life of Jorge Luis Borges to look forward to. (Perhaps distributors for both films could coordinate a complementary, simultaneous release strategy). Borges and Me is filled with warm affection and a gentle nostalgia for the simplicity of youth on the path to acquiring knowledge; rather than treating the author as a historical subject, it approaches him as a spirited, imagined, and holistic soul—and accomplishes this beautifully.
