Sundance Review: Magic Farm Discovers Chloë Sevigny Stranded in Argentina

      Do you recall Vice News? It was akin to CNN but with neck tattoos and no retirement plan. The now-defunct outlet dispatched a fleet of journalists—who could have easily worked as models for American Apparel—across the globe to showcase stories that mainstream media found too dull to cover. It was a Williamsburg-centric world news outlet that inspired many imitators and influencers who aim to replicate its personality-driven interest narratives.

      In her film Magic Farm, Amalia Ulman critiques this type of hipster media and its quirky characters. However, the broader scope of Ulman’s second feature stretches her too thin, lacking the cohesion and focus present in her debut El Planeta.

      A production crew from the Creative Lab Network travels to San Cristobal, Argentina, in search of Super Carlitos, an internet star known for donning bunny ears. The issue is that this San Cristobal is situated in a completely different country. Their previous segments have tackled themes such as Mexican poverty boots, a kratom entrepreneur, and Bolivian teenage exorcists, all narrated by Edna (Chloë Sevigny) and her motley crew of fellow self-absorbed individuals—apart from Elena (Ulman), the moral compass who is the only fluent Spanish speaker. Elena’s self-serving colleagues, Jeff (Alex Wolff) and Justin (Joe Apollonio), are incompetent and more preoccupied with their own lives than the narratives they're covering.

      To salvage their situation, the crew decides to engage with locals to uncover a story outrageous enough for them to report. Surrounding them are discussions about the negative impacts of corporate agrochemicals on the community, but only Elena can translate, and no one pays attention. Their interactions with the townspeople grow more personal, but they are so self-absorbed that they fail to recognize the story right in front of them. Instead, they opt to fabricate a trend piece by holding auditions and enlisting the support of new Argentinian acquaintances.

      While Ulman emphasizes interpersonal dynamics over the comedic plot, the crew members are so ridiculous that it’s tough to empathize with anyone aside from Elena. At one point, Elena questions the ethics of her participation in the project, worried that she might be there simply to “exploit some person because they’re weird,” a concern met with a dismissive, “Well, you picked the wrong job.” Jeff develops a crush on a local girl, while Justin behaves like a child on holiday with his parents. Both are dramatic and needy, exuding their first-world privilege—exactly Ulman’s point—yet they come off as off-putting rather than relatable. They lack the depth and redeeming features found in her previous film.

      Ulman returns to Sundance following the remarkable debut of her first feature—a nuanced exploration of a woman's complicated relationship with her mother as they struggle to afford rent in post-financial crisis Spain—which premiered in 2021. This earlier work was both beautiful and understated, featuring a New Wave aesthetic that depicted personal narratives of everyday people facing broader societal issues in black-and-white. Magic Farm adopts a different visual style, incorporating 360-degree shots and action-camera montages as interludes. It’s dynamic and colorful while still showcasing Ulman’s distinctive transitions.

      I was intrigued by the concept of satirizing opportunistic content creators masquerading as journalists, but integrating that idea within the ensemble cast’s storylines proves challenging for a sophomore effort. The plot becomes muddled; with too much occurring, nothing truly shines. Nonetheless, there’s enjoyment to be found in Magic Farm; most importantly, Ulman's voice and viewpoint linger after the credits roll. It’s encouraging to witness a young director experimenting and exploring fresh narrative and stylistic avenues.

      Magic Farm made its debut at the 2025 Sundance Film Festival and will be distributed by MUBI.

      Grade: C+