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Son of Monarchs – The Immigrant Experience and Lost Identity

Son of MOnarchs Film Difficulty Ranking: 3

A Mexican biologist living in New York returns to his hometown after the death of his grandmother. Unlike the urban jungle of New York, his hometown in Michoacán is surrounded by the Monarch Butterflies he studies. His isolation abroad forces him to contemplate his new identity, displayed on screen in vivid magical scenes and memories.

From: Mexico, North America
Watch: Trailer, HBO Max
Next: Lingua Franca, I'm No Longer Here, I Carry You With Me

Son of Monarchs Breakdown

Mendel is fated to test gene editing theories on Monarch butterflies. He’s both named after the father of modern genetics and hails from Angangueo, the main access point for the Monarch Butterfly Biosphere Reserve in Mexico. However, the coldness of his job, working in a laboratory in New York, doesn’t match the warmth of his memories growing up at home. The many shots of butterflies under the microscope being picked apart by Mendel’s scalpel removes the majesty of the butterflies and displaces Mendel from his past. At his work, the butterflies are just instruments to test the latest gene editing technology. Whereas, outside of work, they remind him of his home.

As the film progresses, Mendel seems conflicted with how he coldly pulls apart the Monarch butterflies at work. It’s implied that their beauty inspired him to become a scientist and they also appear in some of his happiest memories, as alluded to in the film’s flashbacks. Even in the narrative, he speaks of their majesty and mythology – that they are the souls of the dead returning home, and that they can even perceive mountains that have been hidden for millennia. From the way he dreams and speaks about them, he appears to revere them, instead of wanting to change them. The microscope shots of Mendel dissecting them runs against his thoughts and words.

A few times in the film, the director shoots Mendel in bed with a swarm of butterflies sitting on his body. The image emphasizes Mendel’s affinity for the Monarch butterfly. They like him, travel across imaginary borders to foreign lands before returning home. Their secrets are also hidden, just like Mendel’s buried trauma. These butterflies come to symbolize both his personal past (as the scene pops up when his traumatic nightmares surface) as well as his Mexican identity. Editing their genes perhaps symbolizes how he is also losing his own identity in New York. He’s lost touch with his family and the brother he looked up to and longs for reconnection when he returns home after his Grandmother’s death. At home, he spends his time reliving memories with his friends and family instead of speaking of his new life in New York. When the only colleague he identifies with leaves, he becomes even more lost abroad, which reflects in his attitude – ghosting his white girlfriend and showing no pride in his accomplishments. To regain his self, he has to embrace the butterfly and revere it. So he edits himself to pay respects to the animal that represents home.

Son of Monarchs is a brilliant character study of a Mexican scientist in a foreign land. Like other film’s that focus on the immigrant experience in New York – Lingua Franca, I’m No Longer Here – he doesn’t quite feel at home, and his thoughts are conveyed uniquely through his symbolic relationship with the butterfly. The only distractions are the side narratives which feel a bit empty due to the lack of exposition. These include name dropping the Trump presidency and immigrant crisis without development as well as leaving Mendel’s family relationships undercooked. The butterflies and Tenoch Huerta (who plays Mendel) are the crux of this film.

What to Watch Next

If you’re looking for more indie movies featuring the immigrant experience in New York, check out Lingua Franca and I Carry You With Me. The latter also features a lot of jumping back and forth into the memories of the main characters. There’s also I’m No Longer Here, which follows a similar Mexico-New York-Mexico arc with more of a character study like Son of Monarchs.

Or for more small town Mexico films, you could try Nudo Mixteco, an anthology film set during the Festival of San Mateo in Oaxaca, or Kings of Nowhere, a documentary that follows the last few residents of a flooded town in Northwestern Mexico.

Lastly if you want to watch more movies of protagonists identifying with animals – try Awakening of the Ants from Costa Rica or Aronofsky’s Black Swan.

Hive – A Group of Widows Bond Against the Patriarchy and Grief

Hive Film Difficulty Ranking: 2

In Hive, a struggling widow starts making Ajvar to get by. Setting an example for self sufficiency, the town’s widows flock to her to share their grief and start healing. However their independence faces backlash from the patriarchy.

From: Kosovo, Europe
Watch: Trailer, JustWatch
Next: Writing With Fire, Beatriz' War, Shok

Hive – The Breakdown

Before watching Hive, all of the films I’d previously watched from Kosovo were affected by the Kosovo war. Whether directly or more indirectly, the trauma of the war that forged the country’s birth just over 20 years ago has never had a chance to heal.

Hive is no different. Fahrije’s husband has been missing for what might be years. Her father in law and two kids still believe he is alive. But she seems to believe he must be dead. Her face has been sucked of all emotion – as pointed out by her daughter – and she has started to move on. She visits mourning sites, such as the river where many local men were killed, and has also taken over some of her husband’s chores (bee keeping). She’s accepted his fate.

In addition to being a mother, Fahrije is forced to assume her husband’s role in his absence. So she seeks work to make a living in a neighboring town. However, she’s ostracized for behaving like a man with locals shooting her threatening stares and throwing bricks at her car and windows. Faithful wives aren’t supposed to learn how to drive and leave the house. In response, Fahrije also subconsciously takes on the stereotypical masculine emotions too, assuming an unemotional stoicism that confuses her kids. She hides her grief so deep to avoid dealing with it.

Her way out is not in independence through work but in company. Her successful Ajvar making business inspirationally brings together other widows together in community. They’re willing to sacrifice their honor because she’s taken the brave step to doing something about her situation and trying to move on.

What to Watch Next

If you’re looking for another inspirational story about a group of entrepreneurial women fighting the odds to succeed, try Writing with Fire. It features India’s only women-run news channel. Or if you’re looking for another story set within another traumatic event, Beatriz’ War follows a widow and her community fighting for freedom in East Timor. Or for more stories from Kosovo, try the tragic short, Shok, and feature film, Three Windows and a Hanging.

Before, Now & Then – AFI Fest 2022

In Before, Now & Then, Nana finds security in a second marriage to a wealthy old man, having lost her family to the war in West Java. However, she cannot escape the dreams and trauma of her past, or the expectations of her new family and becomes a ghostly figure until she meets one of her husband’s mistresses. Together they can escape and find their own freedom.

Stylistically, Before, Now & Then feels heavily influenced by Wong Kar-Wai’s In the Mood for Love. Whilst the colors are more muted, the dreamy pacing and slowed down scenes between Nana and her second husband feel just like the slow romantic scenes between the two protagonists in In the Mood for Love. These scenes in both films are designed to convey uncertainty. In In the Mood for Love the uncertainty is romantic – we don’t know if the two characters will keep seeing each other. In Before, Now & Then, the uncertainty is melancholic. Similarly, we don’t know if the two characters will be together for much longer, however given that the two characters have been together for a while, it feels as if their relationship is dying instead of burning brightly.

The uncertainty of Nana’s relationship is symbolic of the state of the country. Just like the current Indonesian regime, she knows what she’s getting from her stable marriage to an older husband. Whilst it has confined her mostly to the house – and the back of the house at that, as she rarely shows her face publicly – she knows that she will be taken care of. However, there is no love in their relationship. The new freedom she gains with her husband’s mistress, in contrast, is exciting. It fills her with hope that things could be different and more free.

Whilst we have the hindsight to know that the political change happening in the background of Before, Now & Then wasn’t a positive one, the film captures the uncertainty of the times well with it’s dreaminess.

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

Wild Indian – Sundance Film Festival 2021

Wild Indian kicks off with a scene of a dying Indian covered in small pox ‘some time ago’ before it jumps forward to the 1980’s. The scene contextualizes the trauma of the present, experienced by two friends, Mukwa and Ted-O, situating it within years of pain, suffering, and oppression. It shows that the cycles of trauma are nothing new for this Ojibwe community, and the Indigenous community as a whole.

Moving forward to the scenes in the 1980’s, the trauma is inflicted on the children by their parents. Mukwa’s dad is ruthlessly violent, beating him up each night for nothing, whilst other kids are raised by parents lost to their drunkenness. Thanks to his Dad, and we can infer thanks to the generations above his Dad, it’s the trauma he inflicts on Mukwa that turns him violent. And whilst Mukwa’s not violent towards his son later in the film, his lack of warmth indicates that his trauma will be passed on. All of this stems from the widespread suffering of the Indigenous community referenced in the opening scene.

Mukwa tries to escape his trauma by exiling himself from his roots. He changes his image, becoming ‘Michael Peterson’ and cuts his hair. He goes all in on white corporate culture – becoming a wealthy businessman that plays a lot of golf, lives in California, and has a trophy white wife. The only signs of pride in his heritage is an overcompensation of Indigenous art on the walls in his house. Otherwise, he appears like a different person. His life contrasts strongly with his old friend Ted-O, who carriers his identity tattooed on his face and neck as he’s released from prison. Despite appearances, Ted-O is the warmer character. He makes time to bond with his nephew, whilst Mukwa shuns his wife and son.

Mukwa is one sinister character. He’s created brilliantly through Michael Greyeye’s acting and the style Lyle Corbine (the director) imbues into the film. The atmospheric music, that plays behind most of Mukwa’s scenes, combined with the slow camera movements (slowly creeping right to left and zooming in) creates a sense of eeriness surrounding Mukwa from the start. It reminded me a lot of the slow burn thrillers of David Fincher.

There’s also one recurring image that the director uses to create a lot of tension. He captures Mukwa’s evil side in moments where he has people’s lives in his hands – such as holding a knife by his sleeping father, and aiming a gun at his friend. Throwing these shots into the early part of the film makes us fear Mukwa’s unpredictability. It feels like he’s going to lash out violently and get revenge for the trauma inside him. This unnerving unpredictability makes him and the film so hard to look away from.

If you’re looking for a slow burning thriller along the lines of David Fincher’s Gone Girl with an unpredictable character like Pablo Larrain’s Tony Manero, set within the Indigenous Ojibwe tribe, Wild Indian is the film you need to watch this year.