Are blood ties stronger than spirituality? Find out in Cocote as one man returns home to bury his father. Is it worth sacrificing a stable Christian life in the city for a family life he has tried to leave behind.
What does a radical filmmaker do when the energy of the New Wave is fading? He makes a film about the Virgin Mary and Joseph to provoke controversy from the Catholic Church.
So what does a radical filmmaker do when the verve of the New Wave is over? He makes Hail Mary, a film about the Virgin Mary and Joseph to provoke controversy from the Catholic Church.
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.
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.
Adam is the son of a fisherman from Manzala. Played in a state of overwhelming control by Tawfeek Barhom, Adam is a man caught up in the enforcement of parties, privilege and power beyond his own. He studies now at Al-Azhar University in Cairo, a prestigious kingdom of knowledge disparate from his hometown. In his attempts to conform to such a foreign class, Adam will be forced to break away from where he comes from, where he fits in, and what he is.
Barhom conceives Adam with a drowned-out regularity – the world spinning in front of his glazed look, eyes sunken into his rapidly outpaced mind, initially unclear whether this same mind can handle what director Talik Saleh presents as a complex relationship with his father and loved ones. Slowly, a more mysterious mind unravels itself. Adam becomes integral in the election of the University’s Grand Imam, a powerful religious position, that prompts the region’s officials to scrape together what unruly coup-like plots they can muster.
Two key aspects of Cairo Conspiracy lend it strength where the common eye doesn’t see: Roger Rosenberg’s production design examines a colorful swath of royal colors and ambers that take the film out of time, a growing modernity only revealing itself once outside the religious confines of Al-Azhar; and Theis Schmidt’s editing, a frenetic cut that often deletes the bookending pause of a common conversation, depositing the audience mid-instruction. Both lend Saleh the ability to curve his story away from an objective viewpoint, each religious and political sentiment a targeted draw within the limits of only what we’ve been allowed to behold.
The evolution of Adam’s character lends Cairo Conspiracy its most comprehensive themes, circling around the identity of oneself within the ever-splitting world we spend our educational years breaching toward. Though Saleh, no stranger to conspiratorial plotlines and investigative contention, allows hyperbole to sink into his resolutions, his lead’s transformation is deftly carried on bended shoulders by Barhom. A wisdom and judgment fills his intent and mind through the ongoing recourse, filling the gaps with the same likened modernity.
Where identity favors not oneself, outside eyes strengthen their stance. For Adam is often just a fisherman himself – or the son of a fisherman, depending on who you ask. In the face of God, over country, the distinction may finally grow some significance.
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