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LALIFF 2022 – Championing the Diversity of the Latinx Experience

The Latinx Inclusion fellowship was created last year by LALIFF to increase opportunities for underrepresented groups within the Latino community. Each of the Afro Latino and Indigenous Latino directors selected for the fellowship were granted $20k to produce a short and each one premiered at LALIFF 2022. Here’s a quick review of 9 of the 10 brilliant short films, which span a variety of topics from sexuality to race across the drama, comedy, and fantasy genres.

The Afro-Latino Directed Shorts

Somos De Aqui

Somos de Aqui is a love story between a Haitian-Dominican man and a Dominican woman set within the racist immigration policies of the Dominican Republic. One is waiting for their visa to return to the U.S. whilst the other fears deportation to an unknown country.

The best part of Somos de Aqui is the love story. The chemistry between the two leads had me smiling all the way through. I even felt a bit cheated by the short run time of the movie and the political ending, as it meant we couldn’t see more of their growing relationship (and more of the Dominican Republic). However, that’s kind of the point of the movie – you’re meant to be sucked into the love story so you’re disappointed by the ending. It makes you hate the racist policies in the Dominican Republic as it cut this romance short. That being said, I’d love to see a full feature love story from this director in the future.

Hoar

When a phone sex operator is accepted into a Ph.D program across the globe, she must confront her devout Catholic mother, with her difficult decision.

Like many of the films in the Latinx Inclusion fellowship, Hoar centers on family relationships. They’re integral to the plot and the character development of the short. The parents represent tradition and home, whilst the lead is trying to find and differentiate themself as a separate entity from their family. Hoar also feels like a stage play adaptation, because of the heavy dialogue, absence of sound, and one-location set. Both the stage-play style and seen before narrative feel a bit too same-y even with the great Afro-Latina lead.

Sin Raices

A recently adopted 8-year-old refugee spends a day preparing for her first red carpet appearance with her new pop star mother.

The mother-daughter relationship in Sin Raices feels deliberately awkward. Partly because they’re adjusting to each other’s company, but mostly because the daughter isn’t made to feel at home. Her new mother opts to spoil her instead of spending time with her and dresses her up to be an accessory to her look instead of protecting her from the limelight and allowing her to grow. The daughter’s lack of dialogue only furthers how she’s fetishized for her indigenous appearance and heritage by her new mother. Sin Raices highlights how indigenous identity is appropriated to the detriment of the very alive indigenous communities in the Americas.

Daughter of the Sea

After the death of her grandfather, a young woman experiences a spiritual awakening when she is called by Yemaya, the orisha Goddess of the Sea.

Featuring a great performance from Princess Nokia, Daughter of the Sea is a homecoming for a lonely pop star. Like the reconnection felt by the Dominican woman in Somos de Aqui, Princess Nokia’s Puerto Rican homecoming allows her to reconnect to her heritage and country through her mother’s spirituality. The lush green forests and sea turn the country into a visual paradise and her rustic family home and the warmth from being close to her family make everything feel like home. Especially in contrast to the cold glass-filled empty home of hers in Los Angeles. It shows that home is where your family is; Yemaya’s calling her is just the icing on the top.

Bodies Will Tumble And Fall

When a dysfunctional BIPOC cheer squad are sent to the woods to settle their differences, they must learn to become a team to save their coach from serial killers.

Bodies Will Tumble and Fall revels in the dumb entertainment of B-movie slashers. It plays on stereotypes as well as horror genre tropes to create an enjoyable, if silly and random, comedy. Unless you’re completely against cringy humor, you’ll find this appealing.

The Indigenous Latino Directed Shorts

Gabriela

In Gabriela, a young undocumented Guatemalan woman dreams of joining a Country Club swim team in the Southern States of America. She’s stuck between two worlds; striving for the American Dream for citizens and the American Dream that brought her undocumented mother to the country. The citizen’s American Dream is what she’s been brought up to believe in, by her education and neighbors. However, she’s boxed into the latter – forced to follow in her mother’s footsteps as a maid because of her undocumented status.

Her identity crisis is beautifully shown through her ‘alone time’- particularly in scenes with Gabriela swimming in the pool. In the water, she’s in her zone and can’t be disturbed by white neighbors, country club attendants, or her mother, reminding her of who she can and cannot be. The water doesn’t judge and gives her the time from everyone else to become her own person.

Heritage

Rumiñahui appears to be the perfect son and brother. He’s made the effort to spend time with both parents and helps to raise his younger brother, teaching him their heritage he proudly carries. The only thing he hides from his family is his sexuality.

Heritage is a coming out gone wrong story. Whilst there is a quick documentary interlude that highlights a heritage of homosexuality in Pre-Colombian society, the focus of this short is on the unfortunate anti-LGBTQ+ reaction of Rumi’s parents (as foreshadowed in the opening scene). Heritage uses prejudice to shock the audience, a bit like the swimming pool scenes in Gabriela. In this case it distracts a little from the nice character building work and interesting links to indigenous heritage from earlier in the movie, even if it’s purpose is to highlight an unfortunate reality.

Raul Playing Game

When Raul accidentally double books himself with a date with a woman and a man at the same time in the same place, two animated inner voices take over.

Raul Playing Game uses the time-loop and Inside Out tropes to turn an embarrassing situation into a cringy slapstick comedy. Whilst the situation feels unlikely, there’s definitely some fun in the video-game style dating scenario that evokes nostalgia for The Sims as well as the modern gamification of dating thanks to apps like Tinder. And despite the flashy style, that bounces between animation and live action, it contains a solid moral message for everyone.

The Record

Set in the 1930’s, Zack and his sick brother are left at home in the remote American West as their father ventures out for medicine. All they have for company is a magic phonograph that holds memories of their mother.

This short feels a lot like Bless Me, Ultima. It appears to be set in the same period with similar set design and costumes, and features unpredictable ghosts and magic that both haunt and protect the two brothers. It’s not clear why Zack’s brother fell ill or why the phonograph must keep playing, but it probably has something to do with their dead mother who they still hold dear many years later. The Record is a quaint tale that will probably make you thankful that you don’t like in a humble and remote electricity-less abode in the 1930s.

All of the 9 shorts we got to see as part of LALIFF 2022 are worth seeking out online in the next few months. We’re excited to see what these directors do next.

For more from LALIFF, check out last years reviews in the LALIFF 2021 Hub .

Joyland – AFI Fest 2022

Immerse yourself in the patriarchy embedded in a traditional family in Lahore, Pakistan with Joyland. Don’t let the upbeat title mislead you. Whilst there are some warm moments in Haider’s queer coming of age story, his awakening is framed as a privilege of his gender. The women are all victims of the patriarchy whether they’re within the family house or outside it.

Despite being confined to a wheelchair, the grandfather is still the head of the household consisting of his two sons and their wives, as well as his eldest son’s many children. Haider, the youngest son, holds the focus of the first half of the film as he transitions from a house husband supporting his wife, to a husband seeing other women and turning his wife into a house-wife. The focus on Haider is representative of the patriarchal society he exists within. The audience initially sympathizes with him because he’s looked down on by the men of his family for his assumption of traditionally female role. Because of this set up, his queer coming of age is celebrated as it feels like he’s finally able to come out of his shell. The focus on his budding romance with his boss are some of the happiest moments of the film. However, in the second half of the film, his queer coming of age is framed as his male privilege.

Whilst Haider is out finding himself, his wife, Mumtaz, has been forced by Haider’s family to resign from her dream job and assume the domestic responsibilities expected of a wife. Simultaneously her narrative is overshadowed by Haider’s. Her screen time slowly diminishes as Haider’s grows. Even her star entrepreneurial scene from the start of the movie – in which she uses phone flash-lights to complete her job during a blackout – is hijacked by her husband when he pulls the same trick for his crush later in the film. Mumtaz’s repression by the patriarchy is represented in the empathy and upbeat scenes that are given to her husband, at the expense of hers.

Joyland is a technically faultless film – something you’d expect from a Cannes winner – and captures the dynamics of the patriarchy in Pakistan perfectly. However, whilst its Queer Palm win promises a progressive or unique portrayal of Queerness, Joyland doesn’t really stretch any boundaries here. Haider’s relationship with Biba, the only queer relationship in the film, is sacrificed for a melodramatic finale. Her role, whilst played brilliantly, mostly exists to be the exotic temptress for Haider’s macho-turn.

Head to our AFI Fest 2022 Hub for more reviews from AFI Fest 2022.

Alcarras – AFI Fest 2022

The Sole family have farmed fields in the small municipality of Alcarras in Catalonia for generations. However, the wealthy landowner that owns the property has found more profitable ways to use his land, which doesn’t involve farming or what the Sole family wants. He’s looking to destroy the orchards that provide the Sole family’s livelihood to install more profitable solar panels.

What Alcarras does brilliantly is tell a very specific local story in order to highlight how capitalism is affecting not just the Sole family, but the local community and many other people around the globe. It’s set completely in one small municipality in Spain centered one family, all played by non-actors from similar backgrounds to the family on screen, living on one farm. Through the film’s run-time, we get to intimately know each member of the Sole family to understand their life on the farm as well as how they are each affected by the threatening eviction. We see why they love the freedom and independence of farming their own land as well as how they’re pulled apart by an uncertain future. Whilst a multi-family or multi-country film might fail to generate sympathy for it’s characters because of it’s broad scope, Alcarras, in spending time with one family in one region, gives the audience more time and closeness to sympathize with not just them, but everyone affected by capitalism around the world.

The hidden message in Alcarras is that the Sole family’s experience is not isolated to Alcarras, nor Spain. The few short scenes showing the community’s labor strikes, which Quimet and his son join, show that the Sole family’s experiences are not isolated. The priority of progress and profit over personal and community happiness is destroying families across the world.

Head to our AFI Fest 2022 Hub for more reviews from AFI Fest 2022.

The Pink Cloud – Sundance Film Festival 2021

Honestly, before I saw The Pink Cloud, I thought that The Dog Who Wouldn’t be Quiet was the best film related to the pandemic that I’d seen at Sundance. But then I saw The Pink Cloud. Like Steven Soderbergh’s Contagion, it’s amazing to watch something reflect reality so well before that reality comes into place. And before you ask, this film was written in 2017, way before COVID times.

In the case of The Pink Cloud, Giovanna and Yago’s one night stand turns into a long quarantine together as an unknown pink cloud of poisonous gases shrouds the city. Anyone who steps outside for more than 10 seconds dies from the pink gases. Other people less lucky that Giovanna and Yago are stuck in supermarkets and other public buildings. It’s also not just their city in Brazil that is affected either, as like the big Hollywood disaster movies, the news shows a montage of cities around the world with the same ominous pink clouds hovering over them. Like the current pandemic, everyone is forced to adjust quickly to a new life.

After it sets up the premise, The Pink Cloud focuses on Giovanna and Yago’s relationship stuck together throughout the indefinitely long quarantine. As time progresses, the bucket lists from their single lives become a checklist of things to do in a relationship. They start doing chores, cook and eat with each other, and talk about their future together. The allure and excitement that initially drew them together fades as the permanence of their new life inside sets in. As this happens, the allure of the outside, and nature, represented in the pink cloud grows. Slow montages of the cloud frame it as pretty and tempting. Then the cloud starts to be shot with a slow zoom as if the characters are being drawn to it when they look outside. Now that they’re stuck inside, the everyday world they’d taken for granted becomes alluring. It’s a reversal of their relationship which goes from desire to boredom.

Maybe if there wasn’t a worldwide pandemic right now that mirrors The Pink Cloud’s narrative, it would resonate differently. Perhaps it would have been viewed as a warning to climate change deniers, or to those taking life for granted. In it’s current context, the quarantine comparisons are hard to avoid. It’s one of the most accurate portrayals of a relationship on lockdown.