Mercedes Sosa performing in 1980 (First Run Features)

The biographical documentary Mercedes Sosa: The Voice of Latin America is a fine introduction to—or, for those who are familiar with Mercedes, a welcomed reminder of—the major turning points of the internationally beloved Argentinean singer. However, the film is too often unfocused and confusing, ­­yet it manages to be sufficiently engaging due to her incredible wide-ranging musical repertoire and the archival footage of this truly unique and unforgettable artist.

The film is structured around her son Fabian’s interviews with a range of musicians, family members, and friends, interspersed with his voice-over retelling key events in her life. He often converses with her two brothers, who give more personal—though still vague and somewhat superficial—accounts of their sister’s life and childhood. Less personable are the anecdotes and praises from a range of international artists, such as Argentine legendary singer-songwriter Victor Heredia, contemporary Puerto Rican rapper René Perez, and David Byrne. They collectively reaffirm Mercedes’ status as an international phenomenon, recognized and admired throughout the world. Despite being impressive in their breadth, these interviews reveal little regarding either her private life or influence on the public. They primarily function to emphasize the already-known fact that she has had a far and potent reach.

Mercedes Sosa delves little into any one specific arena of her life, choosing rather to touch upon an array of elements to create a general picture. Where it oddly, yet touchingly, chooses to devote a significant amount of time is to her loneliness and depression. The film even features a psychologist giving an analysis of what it was like for her to be so widely loved and yet so often very alone and disconnected. This portrait of emotional isolation is continually addressed and is an admirable attempt to explain the empathetic sadness in her voice and its impact on millions of listeners.

Mercedes’ music is inseparable from the history and politics of Argentina and the rest of Latin America. The film brushes on her identity as a socially conscious and politically persecuted artist, yet it reservedly avoids specifics. We hear about the death threats she received from the AntiCommunist Association and her exile as a result of the military coup, but the historical background of that very important event is absent. Thus, any deeper awareness of the social significance of her music is sacrificed in favor of underscoring the global reach of her voice.

The role she might have played in inspiring and motivating political activists is ignored. The film indicates seeds for a more dynamic and illuminating documentary, such as when we hear of her defiant and celebratory return to Argentina from exile during the military occupation. In such moments, there are hints at a compelling story that, unfortunately, never gets fleshed out.

The most captivating moments feature her voice—either speaking or singing, both equally powerful and moving. It is only a shame that the filmmakers could not offer more cohesion between the immense pleasure of hearing the great Mercedes and the montage of images and stories left behind by an artistically rich, poignant, and exceptional life.