‘Barreda’ Review: A True Crime Film That Struggles to Focus on Its Victims

Prime Video has consistently explored true crime narratives for its prestige dramas, and ‘Barreda’ is its latest endeavor to transform a national tragedy into a two-hour character study. The film delves into the case of Ricardo Barreda, a dentist who infamously murdered his wife, mother-in-law, and two adult daughters in their La Plata home in 1992, later portraying himself as the victim. Released globally on August 28, it features a talented local cast and a director aiming for depth beyond mere sensationalism.

Luis Machín embodies Barreda, and his casting is immediately understandable. He portrays the character as emotionally closed off and unnervingly formal, appearing more comfortable performing dental work or engaging with a mistress than sharing a meal with his family. Carla Peterson and Mercedes Morán, who play his wife Gladys and mother-in-law Elena, largely convey fear and quiet dread throughout the film, which inadvertently becomes the central tension.

‘Barreda’ aspires to center the women in the household rather than the man who took their lives, which is its most compelling aspect. The screenplay navigates two timelines: one detailing the arrest and trial, while the other gradually reveals the domestic decay leading up to the murders. The director skillfully intertwines these narratives, illustrating the emotional dissonance within the household, which conveys the horror more effectively than any courtroom drama could.

However, the film falters by giving too much attention to Barreda himself. Whenever the narrative shifts toward Gladys or her daughters, the camera inevitably returns to the dentist, and by the midpoint, it becomes apparent that his stillness and peculiar domesticity dominate the storytelling. While this isn’t a critical flaw, it undermines the film’s intention to rectify the long-standing portrayal of Barreda as a folk antihero. A film aiming to dismantle a myth must be bolder in shifting focus away from the mythologized figure.

The production quality consistently supports the material. The 1990s setting feels authentic rather than contrived, and the courtroom scenes maintain a procedural chill without veering into melodrama. Marcelo Subiotto’s portrayal of the prosecutor serves as a necessary counterbalance to Machín’s performance, methodically dismantling the victim narrative that Barreda attempted to construct in the media.

What ultimately elevates ‘Barreda’ beyond a mere stylish true crime retelling is its refusal to romanticize the case as Argentine popular culture once did. It critiques the public’s past fascination with this killer as a societal failure worth examining rather than something to be trivialized. This perspective lends the film a moral backbone, even as its structure often redirects focus to the least deserving character.

I left ‘Barreda’ appreciating its ambitions more than its execution, impressed by Machín’s restraint and Peterson’s subtlety, yet wishing the latter half had granted its victims as much screen time as it afforded their killer. It stands as a well-crafted, thoughtfully acted drama that sometimes loses sight of its own thesis, preventing it from becoming the definitive exploration it aims to be. My final rating is 7.5 out of 10.

Have you streamed ‘Barreda’ on Prime Video yet, and do you think it achieves the perspective shift it aims for? Share your thoughts in the comments.