The Condor Daughter is a beautifully shot tale of tradition standing against the threat of expanding globalization. You’ll be transported to the awesomely scenic mountains of the Bolivian Andes and thrown into the Quecha culture of the Totorani community. You’ll follow Clara, a young woman working with her adopted mother as a midwife, as she battles the allure of modernity and fame.
It starts the same way we all enter the world; in childbirth. Clara sings tenderly as a mother pushes her child into the world. The dimly lit room they’re in contrasts with the brightly lit hospital environments endemic to modernity. But the brightness comes in the next shot. As the baby arrives, the images cut to a still shot of the mountains, showing the incredible setting and linking the birth (and the communities lives) to Pachamama – mother nature. This link is built upon throughout the film with majestic shots of the mountains at sunrise and sunset to mark each day and cement the importance of nature to the community. When their crops fail and livestock die, it’s as if this connection has been disturbed, and they look to Clara’s flirtation with modernity as the culprit.
Clara has followed her adopted mother into the midwife profession. As one of the foundations of the cycle of life, midwifery is hugely important to maintaining tradition. Losing cultural control of midwifery destroys a pillar of the Quechua culture, opening up a space for encroaching globalization to exploit. The stakes are made clear in a scene in which a patient says she’s going to deliver her child in the government clinic because of the cash bonus and child benefits this entitles her to. Clara’s mother understands the threat of modernization, but Clara does not. Clara is drawn to the allure of the city and fame. However, like other indigenous films which explore the battle between tradition and modernity, parental inflexibility pushes their kids away. Clara’s personal struggle for freedom mirrors the communities battle to retain their own culture.
The strict parent and modernity vs. tradition narrative feels overly familiar – see Utama, Whale Rider, or even The Secret of Kells – but it’s always engrossing. However, the top reason to watch The Condor Daughter is for the stunning cinematography.
Whilst the drama of Eva is kicked off by tragedy, the film never feels tragic. This is an immensely warm-hearted film which breaks traditional gender roles by casting Endry Cardeño, a trans-woman, as Eva, a grandma forced to take care of her granddaughter. As per the idiom; “it takes a village to raise a child,” we find a small tight-knit community in Tegucigalpa, the largest city in Central America, instead of one of the murder capitals of the world.
In Eva, a trans-woman takes care of her granddaughter after the sudden death of her daughter-in-law. While processing grief, she tries to help her son connect emotionally to his daughter. Amid tensions, reproaches, and silence, Eva and her son embark on separate paths towards the reconstruction of their family bond and place within their community.
The combination of tragedy and tight-knit family and community make Eva a heart-warming addition to the Central American ‘hood film’ genre. Like the first ‘hood films’ from Los Angeles, such as Boyz n the Hood and Menace II Society, and along the lines of Amor Y Frijoles and La Yuma,Eva centers on the experiences of characters growing up in under-served communities in urban environments. It shows that community bonds are the key to surviving through tragic realities of the city in the face of limited government support. For Eva, there’s no evidence of public support for her adoption of her daughter-in-law. Instead, she builds connections with her in-laws, family, lovers, and customers, to turn the overwhelming city into a warm, mellow community.
It’s also wonderful to see nontraditional gender roles integrated so naturally in Eva. By casting Endry Cardeño as a trans, single grandmother, director William Reyes, normalizes trans people on film, trans people in family roles, and trans people as grandparents (especially pertinent as the life expectancy of trans-women in Tegucigalpa is just 32 according to the director William Reyes).
Look out for Eva‘s release in the coming months to catch a tender, poignant film that centers on family and community navigating tragedy.
Los Angeles is spoiled for film festivals. You can find film festivals representing communities from almost every part of the globe, from the Los Angeles Asian Pacific Film Festival to Outfest. LALIFF is one of the most popular film festivals in the city, and for good reason: it’s both the longest running and biggest Latino film festival in the country. If you missed it this year, make sure you grab a ticket this time next year!
The Experience
This year was the first time I’ve covered LALIFF in person, and wow, it was buzzing. Whilst you could see the excellent film programming in the virtual versions of the festival during the pandemic, the heart of the festival beats for building community in-person. I usually dread the long bus journey to the tourist-trap of Hollywood, but the LALIFF bar takeover, life-filled cinema lobby, and the screenings made everything feel more welcoming.
LALIFF stood out from other festivals I’ve covered because of this atmosphere. It was the first festival I’ve been to where the screenings received screams, whoops of excitement, and big prolonged applauding, making it feel like a true celebration of film. The atmosphere was created by the presence of the talent, and their passionate entourages of family and friends. It felt like LALIFF is a place where you could bring along anyone, no matter their age or how loud they are, making it feel like a valuable third space for the Los Angelino community.
The Films
As with previous editions, the feature-film programming was impressive. With only 17 feature films screening across the 4 days of the festival, the programmers focus on quality rather than quantity. However, despite the low number of films, the festival represented a wide range of countries, from the less-established film industries of Bolivia and Honduras to the ever present on the festival circuit film producing nations of Argentina and Mexico.
LALIFF 2026 also balanced genres well through their programming. Even in the 6 feature films we watched, there was a wide range of genres. Here’s how the feature films we saw stacked up:
The Condor Daughter (Bolivia)
The Condor Daughter is a beautifully shot tale of tradition standing against the threat of expanding globalization. You’ll be transported to the awesomely scenic mountains of the Bolivian Andes and thrown into the Quecha culture of the Totorani community. You’ll follow Clara, a young woman working with her adopted mother as a midwife, as she battles the allure of modernity and fame. Read the full review here.
Eva (Honduras)
An immensely warm-hearted film which breaks traditional gender roles by casting Endry Cardeño, a trans-woman, as Eva, a grandma, forced to take care of her granddaughter. As per the idiom; “it takes a village to raise a child,” we find a small tight-knit community in Tegucigalpa, the largest city in Central America, instead of one of the murder capitals of the world. Read the full review here.
The Red Hangar (Chile)
The Red Hangaris a dark, gripping thriller that depicts the Chilean coup of 1973 in real-time through the eyes of a patriotic air force captain. It’s based on a true story and brings you right into the fascistic chaos with hand-held cameras following the captain as he questions his integrity. This one is for fans of political thrillers and those seeking films which represent Chile’s fall into fascism in the 1970s.
A Place of Absence & How to Clean a House in 10 Easy Steps
A Place of Absence and How to Clean a House in 10 Easy Steps are two personal projects that explore the immigrant experience and grief through the eyes of daughters and their mothers. Both films bring color to lives that have been hidden and invite the audience to join the filmmakers on their journey to process the trauma and experiences that have shaped their families and lives.
Fifteen (Mexico)
For something completely different to the above look out for this high-school lesbian body-horror comedy. Fifteen seamlessly merges a wide range of genres to make something that unbelievably works. It’s fun, funny, and a refreshing change to everything mentioned above. It reminded me a lot of Good Manners and Medusa – two wildly inventive genre-bending Brazilian films.
The Shorts at LALIFF 2026
We also caught a shorts segment, which was the highlight of the festival. The theater was packed with talent and some huge entourages of friends and family, which made the viewing a real atmospheric treat. The films below were all refreshing and unique and well worth seeking out.
#Blessed: this comedy short about Juanita looking for the love of her life is filled with plenty of tongue-in-cheek silliness, vivid colors, and pop editing to make it a very fun watch.
Loco: a man in his late 20s/early 30s hilariously tries to navigate an existential crisis without his parents knowing; “you don’t need therapy, you only need Jesus”.
Marga en el DF: captures the difficulty of relationships and the warm vibes of Mexico City accompanied by Selena through the experiences of a pregnant lady.
LALIFF 2026 Footnote
LALIFF 2026 was one of the most lively film festivals I’ve experienced in Los Angeles owing to the amazing job it did of welcoming talent and building community. It also had a diverse range of high-quality film-programming and events too. So if you’re in Los Angeles, brave the trip to the TCL Chinese theater complex in Hollywood next year to celebrate Latino film.
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