Competition at the 73rd Berlinale is shaping up to be one of the strongest in years, reconfirmed today by the premiere of TÓTEM, the second feature by Mexican director Lila Avilés. With echoes of the Zürcher brothers and the late, great Edward Yang’s masterpiece YI YI, the film explores the micro-cosmos of a family with incredible tragicomic precision. Outstanding both in its artistic achievement and audience appeal, this has the potential to become the breakout hit of the festival.
Set in a country house during the course of one day, TÓTEM follows the family of 7-year-old Sol (Naíma Sentíes) as they make preparations for a party. Things get quite chaotic with the arrival of the aunts and cousins, all the cleaning and baking that needs to be done, and of course the bad spirits in the house that must be exorcized. In the middle of the often hilarious mayhem, we learn that Sol’s father Tona is not doing well, and that the party may be more than just a birthday celebration.
Avilés’ screenplay sketches out a huge cast of characters, each with their own voice, quirks and worries. There’s grandpa who’s still counseling patients even though he can only speak through a voice modulator. There’s Aunt Nuria who’s putting all her efforts into making a cake as if her life depended on it. There’s Aunt Ale who’s hell-bent on making the party happen when there’s hardly money for the expenses. There’s Cruz the kind, sympathetic caretaker who looks after Tona, a figure that remains almost unseen until the final act. In an extended exorcism scene, ghostbuster Lúdica also makes a huge impression for her unique methods of spiritual cleansing. Written with remarkable naturalism, these characters draw you into a world that immediately seems familiar. You can feel the buzz of activity on your skin.
The direction of the film is equally naturalistic, allowing for organic tonal shifts from the hilarious to the poignant. I’m particularly impressed by the ever-changing perspective, the fact that the story is sometimes told through the eyes of a child, other times through an adult viewpoint. The camera, though constantly in motion, can always find an angle that not just informs you of what’s going on, but provides an unmistakable emotional cue. In terms of bold directorial choices, the opening and closing scenes stand out. The former takes place somewhere that only gradually reveals itself and ends with a girl’s wish that surprises and intrigues in all the right ways. The latter involves a prolonged close-up that communicates a sense of unease that may be associated with the pains of growing up.
The whole cast is fabulous but Sentíes shines as Sol. Without the antics of most child actors who try too hard to play precocious, her performance feels completely unaffected and genuine. The curiosity, playfulness and sorrow in her eyes bring so much weight to the film’s trickiest moments, I would be fine with her winning the best lead performance award. And honestly? TÓTEM would make for a worthy Golden Bear winner in my books. A bona-fide knockout.
Meanwhile, the selection of the Encounters sidebar is also turning out to be more than solid, thanks in part to HERE, the latest feature by Belgian director Bas Devos, whose work I’ve been slightly obsessed with since his one-two punch of HELLHOLE and GHOST TROPIC back in 2019. His films are modest in scale yet strikingly distinct in style. That signature blend of ultra-realism with a dash of fantasy is very much intact in his latest feature. It’s a quiet, romantic whisper of a film that will vibe hard with those who can get on its wavelength.
To say there’s a plot would be pushing it but the film is about two nameless protagonists living in Brussels: a Romanian man who works at construction sites and wanders the streets on sleepless nights; a Chinese woman who’s a moss researcher fascinated by things so small she cannot see. Their paths first cross at her aunt’s restaurant, then again inside the hush of a forest. He was planning on returning home and leaving the city life behind, but maybe he isn’t anymore.
Like Devos’ two previous films, HERE is built less on a cohesive narrative than a series of cinematic impressions that follow their own logic. Characters drop in and out of the picture without explanation or any express “purpose”. Events don’t add up by way of cause and effect. They often happen in dream-like isolation and feel vaguely detached from reality. So you’d see the guy visiting his sister, hang out with his work buddies, chat up a lady at a communal farm, have a brief exchange with another random lady on the bus. Whiles these scenes are shot with near-documentarian neutrality, there’s always a sense of surrealness sizzling right beneath the surface. This constant tease is not only a pleasant trip all by itself, it serves to describe two people who might not have found their place in life yet, who are still waiting, drifting, looking for something/someone to call their own.
Gorgeously lensed by Grimm Vandekerckhove, HERE is visual storytelling at its most instinctive and tender. It reminds you that not everything needs to be reasoned or even named. As illustrated with wordless perfection by the film’s beautiful final shot, this holds true especially in matters of the heart.
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