Zoe Saldaña in Border Crisis Drama

Fine performances and powerful visuals only partially compensate for the inevitable air of familiarity that accompanies Marco Perego’s debut feature. Although the filmmaker provides his real-life spouse Zoe Saldaña with one of her best roles in a long while — it’s nice to see her get a respite from the numerous sci-fi and fantasy blockbuster franchises (Star Trek, Avatar, Guardians of the Galaxy) to which she’s attached, not to mention free of alien make-up — The Absence of Eden spins a by-now sadly familiar story of the human suffering engendered by the border crisis.

Saldaña plays Esmee, a Mexican private dancer who is forced to flee her country after she shoots and kills a client who attempts to assault her while she’s performing a lap dance. After discovering that he was a member of a cartel, she says a tearful goodbye to her abuela and enlists the services of coyotes (aka human smugglers) recommended to her by a friend. As she heads to the border with many other migrants, she befriends a young woman and her young daughter. When the mother is taken away from the group before they reach the border, she becomes a protector of the frightened little girl. Eventually, they’re separated as well, with Esmee forced to take a job as a motel housekeeper.

Her story is intercut with that of Shipp (Garrett Hedlund), an ICE agent whose commitment to his work is demonstrated by his volunteering to get tasered during a training session. Unlike his volatile new partner Dobbins (Chris Coy), however, he has genuine empathy for the migrants he encounters and is only willing to use force when it’s absolutely necessary. That seems to be quite often, as the melodramatic screenplay by Perego and Rick Rapoza features no shortage of violent encounters.

The border issue becomes even more personal for Shipp when he discovers that his new girlfriend (Adria Arjona, True Detective, Morbius) is herself undocumented and that her brothers are human smugglers themselves. Eventually, his and Esmee’s lives intersect when he goes to investigate the motel where she’s working and they attempt to rescue the little girl who’s been secreted away by the smugglers.

Perego, whose background is as a visual artist — among his works is a large-scale sculpture composed of concrete-filled shoes representing children who lost their lives fleeing Syria — embellishes the elemental tale with visual flourishes that are simultaneously striking and bordering on pretentious. A pre-credits montage, culminating with a giant close-up of an eye, mostly resembles a video installation, and there are enough candlelit scenes to fill a Nativity pageant. The filmmaker certainly has a skilled, painterly eye, abetted by Javier Julia’s beautiful, frequently dusk-lit cinematography, but too often in the film he makes sure to let you know it.

There’s no denying the laudable intentions of the film seeking to put a human face on the migrant issue, which probably accounts for the fact that the producers include such industry heavy-hitters as Martin Scorsese, Rick Yorn and Alexandra Milchan, among others.

And the performances can’t be faulted, with Saldaña’s wrenching portrayal powerfully conveying Esmee’s physical and emotional desperation and Hedlund’s canny underplaying subtly making us aware of his character’s increasing moral conflict about his job.