Leonera (Argentina-South Korea-Brazil)
By JAY WEISSBERG to Variety.com

Situated somewhere between neo-realist study and standard women in prison pic, “Lion’s Den” too frequently wanders into common territories to make the material its own, though pic’s overall style and Martina Gusman’s bold lead have a great deal to recommend them. Confirming the superb compositional eye he revealed in “Born and Bred,” helmer Pablo Trapero creates a suitably enclosed world focused on an accused pregnant murderess through jail and childbirth, witnessing the development of mother and child as the rusty wheels of Argentinean justice creak slowly along. Modest arthouse play could ride the wave of Argentine cinema’s media attention.

“Lion’s Den” represents an adventurous non-Asian choice for Cineclick Asia’s co-production coin, joined with Trapero’s own company Matanza Cine and Walter Salles’ Videofilmes. Neither the picaresque comedy of Trapero’s popular breakthrough “Rolling Family” nor the melancholy meditation of “Born and Bred,” current offering is more a strongly sympathetic depiction of women serving time and raising kids behind bars. Obviously besotted with tykes himself, Trapero makes clear the problems stemming from cellblocks doubling as nurseries, but wisely skirts offering up elusive fix-alls.

An intense sense of claustrophobia is created even before incarceration, with close-ups filling the screen from the opening shot. Julia (Gusman) awakes, her heavy eye-makeup and cheap nail polish instantly signalling character, unaware of the blood staining her pillow. As if sleepwalking, she goes to work and returns home, truly waking up when she sees the crimson-splattered wreckage and two bodies on the floor: Ramiro (Rodrigo Santoro) is alive, but Nahuel, the lover they uncomfortably shared, lies dead.

Throughout the first half hour Julia is largely catatonic, unable to remember what happened that night and deeply unhappy that she’s pregnant. Placed in a ward for women with kids, all looks standard until a child suddenly scurries out of a cell, upending expectations of a more expected rodent. Unfortunately pic’s first half uses too many of the tired tropes of chicks in prison pics, from predatory lesbians to the usual inmate fight complete with fat women pulling hair and rolling around the floor.

Though he never gets that sort of thing entirely out of his system, Trapero eases up on such conventionalities with inventive scenes of mothers and kids, including a stroller procession paired with a catchy tune that lifts the proceedings out of the commonplace. Once Julia gets over new motherhood anxieties, partly thanks to neighboring cellmate and soon-to-be-lover Marta (Laura Garcia), her attachment to baby Tomas takes its natural course in an unnatural setting.

Julia’s estranged mom Sofia (Elli Medeiros) relocates nearby to provide hesitant support, and even Ramiro, also in prison, offers to change his statement to help Julia and Tomas get out sooner, but neither mother nor ex-lover prove as loyal as their words suggest.

Though in some ways the flip side to Trapero’s “El Bonaerense,” with a different kind of inside take on Argentine justice, the helmer sets aside the studied detachment of that earlier work and offers a far more subjective picture of his protagonist, whose culpability in the opening carnage is never fully clarified. He’s not interested in passing judgment, using his tale (co-scripted with three others) as a sympathetic look at the impossibility of properly raising children within prison while remaining deeply suspicious of efforts to remove kids from their mothers’ arms.

With the camera fixed on her gradually expressive face throughout most of the (overlong) running time, Gusman (also exec producer) displays a breadth of talent impressive for someone coming to a lead role for the first time. Reminiscent of the natural, visceral style of Ken Loach’s performers, she admirably captures Julia’s growth of character from shell-shocked and overwhelmed to confident and in control. Ramiro is little more than a cameo for Santoro, an actor far better than recent parts would suggest.

Production was largely shot within maximum security prisons, utilizing staff and inmates as actors and seamlessly integrated into the tightly helmed action: the incongruity of cell blocks decorated with finger paintings, toys and clean diapers is made apparent without overly calling attention to itself. Trapero’s regular d.p. Guillermo Nieto displays a confident feel for widescreen, firmly limiting the range of his shots while utilizing the screen’s full expanse. Editing too is precise and fluid, while clever use of songs, rather than incidental music, gives pic some of the jolt it needs to rise above an overly-stereotyped genre.