Edgar Cochran ✝️’s review published on Letterboxd:
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Just hold on right there with your Top 10 list of 2023, my friend.
I commend you not to seal it until you see this, what I personally consider among the three most important Mexican films of the 21st century, and one is by Reygadas.
What is a totem? It is utmost necessary to clarify this since I wouldn’t be surprised that the definition of today’s kids is “a lucky charm like the ones in Inception”. The word “doodem” comes from the Ojibwe indigenous language, and it refers to a sacred object or spirit being upon which the kinship of families is based. They normally come in the form of human faces, animals, and were instrumental during marriages and other tribal traditions. The north of Mexico (do remember that Mexico is also a part of North America along with Canada and the U.S.) was part of this tradition and created their own prehispanic monuments to represent and commemorate their ancestors or landmark events in their culture’s history.
Directed by the cousin of the cousin of one of my students and subsequent friend and current peer at my work, Avilés has concocted an intimate tale that, for the purpose of demolishing stereotypes and sensationalization, does not deal with political, cartels, human trafficking or vulgar/hopeless comedy like Cindy la Regia (2020) for the brainless consumerist market. There is no yellow filter either, since that was a stylistic conception that Soderbergh came up with in 2000.
Tótem is, simply put, mesmerizing; astonishing minimalism directly derived from Kerrigan's Keane (2004) a story that also concerns a daughter lost in her own way).
One of the best films in cinema history is called What Time Is It There? (2001), by modern titan Tsai Ming-liang. Both this film and Tsai's begin identically: there is a key paternal/maternal figure in the life of a young son or daughter (Tótem reverses the roles), and after the initial sequence is over, both intimate to the core, then each corresponding character appears in the back seat of car while travelling through a tunnel. Both characters are passengers having thoughts about the possibility of death. Both make statements about mortality: in Tsai's film, the young man remains speechless, and in here, both hold their breath. In both films, the tunnel represents a transition to another life where darkness must be temporarily passed through from a metaphysical perspective. The opening for me was so uncanny to Liang that I had a huge hint of foreshadowing.
The central topic is how a dysfunctional family, desperate by their own lack of means and, simultaneously, by their evident lack of realization that their lives and the lives of others has never been under their control, deals with the imminence of death, and how a more innocent, hopeful perspective, not contaminated by the sources of stress in the world, faces this. The family is representative of Latin American dynamics: the core family has the constant presence of aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins, nephews and many others. It's difficult today to see a Mexican family not been constantly intervened by the grandparents imposing their own sense of education for the children that are not directly their own, but it is also an outlier to see truly merry couples with a single mindset on the most relevant subjects of a relationship having enough character to explain to their parents and fathers / mothers in law that the final say belongs to the parents and not to them.
Here is where the protagonist element of purity comes in, one that reminds us of the carrier of light in Once Upon a Time in Anatolia (2011), the girl that, due to age and formation, believes in God's planned unity of a family as intended: mother and father. There is no child that idealizes separation between the people that have made them grow, nor having full independence, as there is an innate sense of need for protection and love that all human beings yearn. "Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. 4 Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven." "Honor your father and your mother, so that you may live long in the land the Lord your God is giving you." (Exodus 20:12)
Since the beginning, she is aware that his father is in danger of death, and so, she expresses this wish during the second scene of the film: the tunnel that is often used as a metaphor for "crossing to the other side". The film plays on superstitions, which is the second strongest component of the film: "spirit hunters" inspecting the house to drive the energies away and overcharging poor families’ money for their scam, making a wish while holding your breath maximizes the probability of the wish becoming true, and blowing the candles off a birthday cake will bring make your desires become true. This boils down to national culture, passed down from generation to generation.
Child actress Naíma Sentíes is a gigantic revelation: deliveries, eye contact, the power of reaction to what she's told by other characters, the power of facial expression for laughing or singing: everything is a smorgasbord of talent at a very young age. Through her character Sol, the main theme is how a pure child with authentic fears copes with those fears and seeks for a reunion with her father as the unprepared adults keep putting obstacles in front of her, not only directly stepping in her way, but also by a sheer incapacity to deal with something they cannot handle: the uncertainty of death. She might not have all the knowledge adults have of the situation, but a kid is intuitive and perceptive, and she demonstrates a higher degree of emotional intelligence than her adult counterparts throughout. Even children understand the concept of death as perpetual separation from loved ones: spiritual, emotional and physical. This is something she desires not to live through.
Now, the main context is the planning and subsequent evolution of a birthday party for no one else than Sol's father, who is holding to dear life to be present, but also to hide his suffering from her daughter, something her mother is very aware of. It is ironic that this party is made in a garden worthy of aristocrats and wealthy people, a budget that people of these social strata seldom have unless they spend all their savings in something crucial, which seems to be the case. People know about his physical condition and the odds at stake, and so, the celebration becomes bigger as a gesture of consolation; ironically, he cannot be present.
I did mention the second strongest component of the film is superstition; the first one is the allusions to theater and art. Paintings and masks are predominant throughout the film. All artforms are an exteriorization of the artist’s soul, a reflection of their mind, a portion of their heart. All art has a meaning behind for the original artist. This makes the understanding of the artist’s story crucial for grasping the potential intentions of an artwork; however, the artists never have the final say: a film potentially made to disprove the existence of God may result in a spiritual revival for another viewer. There are no rules in art since its conception and appreciation are entirely subjective. The father is a painter, and his paintings throughout have a common theme: life. This is exactly what he yearns for. Curiously enough, Sol constantly collects snails and places them on his paintings: fragile beings that move extremely slowly, mimicking how the father’s life is beating slower and put against the wall. Moreover, the mother is a theater actress, and Sol, in the most pivotal and astoundingly concocted scene of the entire film, makes a fake performance as well, a grandiose one, an lip-sync opera that also reveals social conventionalisms are merely acts. This symbolism has come full circle.
Cruz, the woman that medically looks after the father, a conveniently named character alluding the cross of Christ, is the mediator between his life and the concerned family. In an instant, where she convinces the father to go out in acceptable conditions, all people were masks, which is an in-your-face allegory of how everyone pretends to be merry on the outside but destroyed on the inside. You pretend to be in a situation you’re not, and to be in an emotional state that is false. After this, everyone tries to send a hot air ballon to the sky, another superstition we have like attaching our letters to Santa Claus in a balloon and send it to the sky so he can read it before Christmas, ends up catching fire: a superstition relies on an unproved hypothesis, but life takes its course.
However, not everything is hypocrisy. It’s a life-death situation. The family’s clashes are as intense as they come, putting responsibilities and pressures on one another and blaming themselves for factors they cannot control. However, the father is never showed an ounce of hostility simply because his character is a reminder that we should treat everyone as good as if it was their last day on Earth.
The ending and hauntingly terrifying sequence is a realization of the girl that superstitions are superficial, and there could be something beyond that, a higher force, something divine that has the final say over life and death. Your soul will tremble as you witness the most ominous score of the year while the fourth wall breaks in a mindblowing manner.
But the main message is closed during Sol’s opera performance: her literal support was her mother’s shoulders and the father deeply connects with this. At the end, the physical form both conjure is unmistakable. Avilés in the credits dedicates her film to her daughter for whenever they fight or she’s feeling bored, as she will always be her support.
Finally, as for the question that the film mainly poses, it’s crystal clear with the final imagery. What does a scorpion look for, besides living in dark places?
95/100
