The Wolves is a spiritual sister to Sean Baker’s The Florida Project. Instead of a boisterous white mum and daughter living in a motel by Disney World, The Wolves features a single mum with two young boys that have just crossed the border into the United States. The kids are happy to follow their mum and spend more and more days passing time in a shabby apartment on the understanding that they’re going to Disneyland.
The two boys are stuck at home everyday making their own entertainment whilst their mum works double shifts to try and create a better future. There’s no school for them to go to and they’re forbidden from leaving the apartment. Any chances of being caught and deported must be avoided.
Despite being stuck in the apartment all day, The Wolves is presented with a lot of warm nostalgia. There’s a slow and lazy guitar soundtrack that generates the same warm melancholic tones of films imbued in Americana like Mud, Bombay Beach, or even parts of Thelma and Louise. There’s also warmth in the games that the two boys play to keep themselves occupied and the drawings that come to life in their imagination. Even though the melancholic soundtrack and bleak surroundings hint that the American dream is out of reach, their playfulness shows it won’t stop them dreaming.
The Wolves is an ode to the faceless people of America. Not just the immigrants that cross the southern border seeking a better life, but the homeless, and anybody scraping together a life living below the poverty line. A few times in the film, Samuel Kishi Leopo (the director) inserts montages of portraits of people from different racial and ethnic backgrounds living within the new family’s community. All the portraits feature people staring straight into the camera like you might see in a National Geographic magazine, showing them without anything to hide. It shows them purely, in front of their humble homes. What these people have in common is an absence of the white picket fenced house promised by the American dream. It’s a sign that being American, or simply being in America for those that migrate north, doesn’t automatically grant you a well spring to health and prosperity. The Wolves honestly highlights the people that the country has left behind.
For more films from the Berlin film festival, head to our Berlinale home page.
Once Upon a Time in Venezuela starts with images of the famous Catatumbo lightning silently flashing over Lake Maracaibo. The lightning is an atmospheric phenomenon unique to the region, occurring for 140 to 160 nights per year. It’s what drew filmmaker Anabel Rodriguez Rios to the region, but ultimately became one of the least interesting happenings in an area that serves as a microcosm for the socioeconomic and political crisis in Venezuela.
The once thriving town of Congo Mirador becomes the focus for this observational documentary. It’s a town built upon stilts above Lake Maracaibo, complete with a church, a school, and houses. Everyone gets around on boats, whether they’re commuters, cake sellers, or musicians. The water is the lifeblood of this town. It’s their road that connects everyone, their bath to wash in, and their sewage.
Therefore, it’s not a surprise that sedimentation is brought up first. It’s the most urgent problem for the community, and not the political movements happening in the big cities elsewhere in the country. Sedimentation blocks their transportation paths by making the routes too shallow for boats to move, it blocks the free flow of sewage, and pollutes the towns’ supply of fresh water. Shots of people washing juxtaposed against shots of dead fish, highlight the immediate problems that sedimentation causes. As the film progresses, the director makes sure you can see the physical change in the community. Houses are uprooted and moved on boats, and plants start to take over the once fluid waterways.
It’s not clear where the sedimentation comes from; perhaps it stems from the oil reserves that have started contaminating beaches nearby, or maybe it’s just happening naturally. However, what is clear is that if nothing is done, this town will gradually be consumed by dirt and pollution, thus becoming uninhabitable.
The town community need the help of higher powers to help. However, Once Upon a Time in Venezuela chooses two rivals to center this documentary to represent the division in the community: Mrs. Tamara, a Chavista and town representative, and Natalie, a local teacher. Their rivalry, and the progress it hinders, represent the political division in the country and the slow decline of the town, the sinking state of Venezuela.
Mrs. Tamara: the Hugo Chavez fan girl, with a large spacious house, Hugo Chavez dolls, and a farm along the lake. She’s shown boating around the lake to buy votes and relaxing in her hammock.
Natalie: a humble teacher and single mum that appears apolitical and lives in a small house. She’s shown hand washing clothes and teaching kids.
The class distinction between the two, and way they talk about each other (Natalie rarely mentions Mrs. Tamara by name) help us choose our allegiances in Congo Mirador and Venezuela. Ultimately, their rivalry distracts us from the decline of the town, just like the presidential rivalry between Maduro and Guaido has provided a distraction from resolving the political and social crises in Venezuela.
If you’re looking for more films from Venezuela like Once Upon a Time in Venezuela, check out La Soledad or It’s All Goodfor two more films set within the crisis You could also watch Hermanofor a Venezuelan film featuring gangs and football. Or, head to our Sundance Film Festival hub, if you’re looking for more reviews from the festival.
We don’t believe in a cinema that yells “¡Viva la revolución!” but in one that instead formally critiques the structures that originally created the profound injustice that exists today.
Pedro Escoto, Director of Ruinas Tu Reino
If you’re not familiar with slow film or meditative cinema, the lack of story line and raw experimental shots of Ruinas Tu Reino might prove to be too much of a challenge. The long shots of the sea and fishermen sitting around makes the film feel more like a film exhibit you’d see in a modern art museum. However, if you have the patience to observe, you’ll find a film imbued with poetry; literally in words that appear on screen, and visually in the meditative shots of the fisherman’s existence. It’s a film that seeks to deconstruct Latin American cinema by transcending historical narratives, reverting to DIY production, and focusing on the power of very raw images.
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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