Charles Bukowski. Ernest Hemingway. Dorothy Parker. Rubén Darío. Generations of aspiring writers have long looked up to such self-destructive yet phenomenally talented heroes. For a while there, I was one of them. Like many, I believed that it might be possible to find genius, or at the very least some worthwhile inspiration, at the bottom of a bottle. That it was the vice, and not the hard work paired with talent, that would grant me the ability to become a writer worth admiring. And in Un Poeta/A Poet, it’s clear that the struggling poet Oscar Restrepo also subscribes to this sentiment. But rather than glorify substance abuse and melancholia, Colombian writer-director Simón Mesa Soto casts an honest, humorous light on what tends to happen when artists lean too heavily on their melancholy and recklessness, rather than dig into the discipline of their craft.

From the start, our underdog Restrepo (played brilliantly by rookie actor Ubeimar Rios Gómez) waxes poetic about José Asunción Silva — the great Colombian poet whose brief life was riddled with tragedy up until the moment he shot himself in the heart. To Restrepo, Silva is everything. Accomplished. Genuine. Unafraid. With a gift so great most still can’t comprehend it.

Restrepo himself is a poet, though one clearly past his prime. While he published a few books in the past, by the time we meet him, he’s a broken man mooching off his mother’s Social Security and good will. He’s unemployed, rarely writing. He manages to spend what little money he does have getting drunk at bars in bad company until he literally passes out in the streets. At one point, his no-nonsense sister comes around to see him, asking what exactly his plans are for life. “I’m writing a book,” he tells her. “You’re unemployed,” she quickly reminds him. Restrepo doesn’t want to hear it though, from her or anyone else. In his mind, he must remain an artist who refuses to compromise.

But even Bukowski had to work for the post office. So when Restrepo faces either being kicked out of his mother’s house, or taking the teaching job his sister sets up for him, he settles into the latter, though not without plenty of complaint. Here’s where Restrepo finds what is, potentially, a second chance. One of his students, 15-year-old Yurlady (newcomer Rebecca Andrade), is an incredibly gifted young writer. Unlike Restrepo, Yurlady doesn’t dream of being a poet. She’s a teenager, living in a crowded household, helping her various siblings raise her nieces and nephews, with a mother who works so much she only sees her on Sundays. Her aspirations aren’t lofty: she dreams of raising her own family while making money doing hair, nails, and makeup. And while that’s enough for her, it’s not enough for Restrepo.

This is where the story begins to unravel. Restrepo could respect this and continue to work his day job, making money to hopefully move out of his mother’s home, writing on the side. Instead, our heavily-flawed protagonist attempts to take Yurlady under his wing to transform her into a successful poet by any means necessary — something he is still far from achieving himself. We begin to root for our underdog because “discovering” Yurlady begins to fill him with a sense of purpose. He decides to give up drinking for a time. He focuses on introducing her to people in the poetry community. He brings her opportunities to get her work out there in front of others. But despite putting a pin in his boozing, he’s still a bit of a mess. In order to even get Yurlady to agree to these things, he constantly has to buy her small gifts, get groceries for the family, and offer her money. As viewers, we see him falling further into messy situations. It’s even worse when others in his world begin to take notice of this 50-something-year-old man spending so much time and attention on a teenage girl. And despite relatively honorable intentions, none of this looks good on paper.

All of this is further complicated as it’s revealed Restrepo has a teenage daughter of his own, Daniela (Alisson Correa), who wants little to do with her alcoholic father. She’s even embarrassed to have him try and pick her up from school. You begin to feel for Restrepo as he attempts to repair his fraught relationship with his daughter, showing up more for her, and also in a way, by helping this new student of his. But Restrepo ultimately falls into poor decision-making again and again. It’s not hard to imagine how he wound up here — a poet hamstrung as much by his choices as by his circumstance. What does remain unanswered throughout is why he makes the wrong choices over and over again. What causes these self-destructive tendencies? Did his alcoholism come first, or did the writing? Did he take up drinking because he was faltering in so many ways?

Told in four parts, Un Poeta slowly but effectively portrays a floundering artist whose attempt at a second-act magnum opus is hamstrung again and again by his own mistakes and stubbornness. It could be an ultimately depressing tale. Instead, it’s full of flawed-but-lovable characters, cringe-inducing scenes, lots of laughs, and some hope by the end of it all. For other poets, writers, and creatives, it serves as a cautionary tale not to fall into the tired trope that vices will somehow yield inspiration and genius. A Jury Prize in Un Certain Regard at the 2025 Cannes Film Festival, this at-times frustrating, other-times hilarious, and ultimately heartwarming film is worth your time. Un Poeta will be released in select theaters in the US on January 30, 2026.