Stateless

In 2013, the Dominican Republic’s Supreme Court stripped the citizenship of anyone with Haitian parents, retroactive to 1929. The ruling rendered more than 200,000 people stateless, without nationality, identity or a homeland. Stateless follows Rosa Iris, an attorney with family who have been exiled by the country’s recent laws, as she mounts a grassroots electoral campaign to advocate for social justice. But it also follows her antithesis, Gladys Felix, an outspoken supporter of the nationalist movement, fighting for for stricter immigration control.

Like Softie, Stateless is an observational documentary that captures an activist from outside of the system fighting against corruption. Through Rosa’s story we’re exposed to the emotional trauma of the country’s recent anti-immigration policies. Simply put, they’re racist, and this is obvious right from the opening scene in which Rosa is representing a client in a government office. Her client is applying for an updated citizenship card but is being denied by the officer because “he doesn’t speak clear Spanish”. This is not an isolated incident. Rosa’s activism is also justified by her personal stakes. She has the same Haitian lineage as the people she’s representing that the country is persecuting. So she runs for government to represent people like her exiled because of their race.

However, unlike Softie, which focuses solely on Boniface’s family life and his campaign for government, Stateless also documents the other side of the fight against racism by following Gladys Felix, a member of the country’s anti-immigrant nationalist movement. We follow her as she spews racist rhetoric about the nature of Haitian immigrants and gaslights the experiences of Haitians she meets at a government built camp for sugar cane workers near the border. Whilst it feels odd to have their stories running alongside each other, it makes Stateless stand out. It allows us to see how present the threat is – not just to Rosa and her cousin Teofilo, but to all Haitian immigrants and Black Dominicans. Gladys adds a face (and very present reality) to the sometimes invisible state sanctioned racism of the Dominican Republic. She gives the audience something visual to root against.

If you’re looking for a documentary that examines racism in the Dominican Republic’s past and present through two women campaigning at either end of the political spectrum, this is the film you’re looking for.


Check our Pan African Film Festival 2021 page for more reviews coming out of the 29th edition of the festival.

Clara Sola

Clara Sola Film Difficulty Ranking: 3

Clara Sola is one of two Latin American films from 2022 that had a memorably anti-colonialist ending. The other, Bantu Mama, features a French-African tourist turned fugitive in the Dominican Republic that escapes to sanctuary in Africa after feeling a connection to her African roots. Clara Sola follows Clara’s awakening as she frees herself from conservative Christianity to embrace the indigenous roots of her powers.

From: Costa Rica, North America
Watch: IMDb, JustWatch
Next: Alba, Thelma, Ixcanul

Clara Sola – The Breakdown

Clara is imprisoned by a purple flag marked boundary around the small house she lives in with her mother and niece in the remote Costa Rican countryside. She’s closely protected by her mother for her miraculous god-given powers, that were apparently bestowed to her by an apparition of the Virgin Mary. Her fame for healing routinely brings people from across the country to her house for her blessings, as well as much needed donations that seem to be the main source of income for the three of them. At the beginning, Clara is content to follow her mother’s lead, staying within the purple flagged boundary marked for her and taking part in the religious ceremonies she’s the main attraction of. However, the arrival of Santiago prompts a sexual awakening that reconnects her to the true nature of her powers.

Colors are present from the start in the purple flags flying on the poles marking Clara’s boundary. In the opening scene, she’s beckoning her white horse named Yuca, to come to her from the other side of the boundary line. The natural white color of Yuca signify freedom, whereas purple signifies Clara’s confinement. It’s notable that the only other time purple appears in the film is after Clara tries to dye her pink dress blue, to match the blue quincenera dress of her niece. She’s trying to break free from the conservative baby pink (and her babying mother) to experience the freedom of the attractive blue dress of her niece, but ends up stuck with the same purple that marks her restricted world. It’s a moment in which she realizes that no matter how much she tries to be like her niece, she’ll never be her. It sets in motion her wish to escape.

Colors also confuse Clara. She’s drawn to both artificial and natural colors, even though both aren’t leading her in the right direction. The artificial colors of her niece’s blue dress draw her to Santiago and a ‘normal life.’ She’s pictured in the dress in her happiest moments with Santiago. However, like the artificial lights illuminating her smile as she’s driven home by Santiago one night, the blue dress symbolizes an unsustainable happiness. She’s only truly free in the moments she’s with nature – with natural colors – whether that be the lights of the fire-flies, the white coat of Yuca, or the greens and blues of the trees and river. The nature accepts her and understands her. They allow her to be free unlike the family and community that imprison her physically and spiritually.

In breaking free from her family and community, Clara breaks free from the conservative Christianity that imprisoned her, the descendant of Spanish Colonialism. In returning to the forest, she’s returning to her indigenous roots.

What to Watch Next

For more Latin American coming of age films, try Alba and Aurora. The former follow a daughter living with her single dad trying to navigate the awkwardness of puberty and school. The latter follows a pregnant teenager that finds support in a teacher. You can also try Ixcanul, which follow an indigenous woman in Guatemala.

Or for a dark, magical coming of age story in the vein of Black Swan, try Joachim Trier’s Thelma.

Papi

Sonia is a precocious 8-year-old girl with a vibrant imagination. Her flashbacks and surreal flights of fancy help her navigate life as the daughter of Papi, a drug dealer who returns from New York to become the biggest crime lord in the city.

For a first time feature, Noelia Quintero Herencia captures the slightly zany tone of Rita Indiana’s novel very well. She creates 8 year-old Sonia’s world by depicting her imagined fantasies alongside her reality. Doing this makes it harder for the viewer to figure out which scenes are real, making Sonia a pretty unreliable narrator. However, it also paints an interesting picture of her relationship with her dad.

Her two main fantasies consist of her leading a TV game show and spending time with her dad in the U.S. Both feel upbeat and happy, deliberately contrasting with her lonely reality at home. However, they both contain her dad’s vices – vices that at her age she’s just becoming aware of, such as her father’s infidelity and life as a criminal.

Her fantasies capture her changing perception of her dad as she grows up. She still imagines him as her hero, and herself as his princess, in a way that feels like she’s trying to hold onto her happy childhood memories. However, coming to terms with his criminal character, represents the end of her childhood alongside her idyllic childhood fantasies.

For an imaginative coming of age story that leans heavily on visualizing a kid’s imagination, Papi is well worth a watch.


Head to our LALIFF 2021 Hub for more reviews from the 20th edition of LALIFF.

Tears of Joy

Tears of Joy Film Difficulty Ranking: 1

Tears of Joy is a 15 minute reminder that bullying isn’t a game. It is designed to trigger those who have experienced being bullied and to scare anyone related to the victims. However, its scare tactic methods prioritize melodrama over a real exploration of the subtleties of bullying.

From: Saint Kitts & Nevis, North America
Watch: YouTube, Mubi
Next: Where I Come From, Shaina, Hulhudhaan

Tears of Joy – The Breakdown

Similar to Where I Come From and Shaina, Tears of Joy feels like a throw-back public service announcement. Its message is very clear (bullying is bad) and it uses intense examples to convey it. These examples take up the entire short film and are designed to evoke anger/horror in those who view the bullying, and sympathy and sadness for the victim. However, the intensity of the examples, and obviousness of the bullying, out-shouts what is often subtle and concealed. The bullying is so clear to us that it’s hard to believe that the adults choose to overlook it, especially as it appears to be every student against Joy. There’s no attempts on the school kids to hide it, so it feels unrealistic that they’re not caught and reprimanded. Meanwhile, Tears of Joy also infers that bullying is brutal and obvious, ignoring its more subtle guises.

Joy and the lead bully do get brief scenes with their parents for brief moments of character development, but this isn’t enough to justify the direction each character takes. Almost every scene of this short film is taken up by footage of school kids bullying Joy, or Joy crying alone (which she does very well, kudos to the young actor). This makes the film appear more exploitative – focused on shocking the viewers rather than building on the dialogue around bullying. Less focus on showing traumatic bullying and more focus on the characters and their motivations and feelings would have been helpful to justify the conclusion of the film. Spending more time building the characters would have also helped convey the complexities of bullying and its many forms.

Ultimately, if you’re a sucker for traumatic films designed to trigger emotions with a low budget, here’s Tears of Joy. It manipulates emotion by focusing on shocks and some intense crying scenes, carried out well by Neila Jones.

What to Watch Next

Whilst these exploitative, PSA style ‘message films’ aren’t my cup of tea, there are plenty of them from around the world. For more check out any of the following:

I’m No Longer Here Film Difficulty Ranking: 3

If you’re looking for an entry point into the Cholombiano sub culture of Monterrey, you’ve come to the right place. I’m No Longer Here has the cumbia music, the dance crews, the slang, and the unique haircuts. The narrative bounces between Monterrey and New York as it follows Ulises from leading a crew in his Mexican hometown, to his new exile in New York to escape the gangs he was mistakenly mixed up in. In New York, he never fits in. He’s only at peace when he’s listening to cumbia or dancing. Otherwise, he’s alone in a world where local Latinos make fun of him and where the Americans that like him can’t communicate with him. Tune in for the music, dancing, and ‘fish out of water’ immigrant experience.

From: Mexico, North America
Watch: Trailer, Netflix
Next: Wild Style, Los Lobos, Sin Nombre