ukamau (w&d jorge sanjinés, w. óscar soria)

Sanjinés is not a well known name in Anglo- Saxon circles. Yet he has been one of the most consistently interesting filmmakers from this side of the world for decades, exerting a strong social conscious in his films. Ukamau, which translated from the Aymara, means something along the lines of ‘That’s how it is’, is one of his earliest films. Andrés Mayta leaves behind his wife, Sabina, when he goes to market. Whilst he is away, Ramos rapes and murders her. Andrés wants revenge, but knows the police won’t be interested and the indigenous social code forbids acts of violent retribution. The film, whilst showing the world of the Aymara on the Isla de Sol in lake Titicaca, slowly plays out to the moment when Andrés Mayta finally takes revenge, far from his own territory. The subtext of the tale is clearly about the abuse of the indigenous peoples by the colonial arrivalists. Whilst there is nothing too subtle about this, the depiction of Andrés Mayta’s moral dilemma is artfully described, and the insight into the world of the Aymara is beautifully shown. It was reminiscent of Rossellini or Paulo Rocha, as well as, (observed by Sñr Amato), Mark Jenkins’ Bait.

utama (w&d alejandro loayza grisi)

Grisi’s film feels like a postcard from the front lines. The front lines of that other global conflict, the planet versus humanity. Set in the Andean highlands of Bolivia, the story is simple. An old couple are reluctant to leave the land they have lived on all their lives, even though it hasn’t rained for a year and the drought is causing their neighbours to leave. Their grandson comes to visit them from the town, trying to convince them to abandon their home and return with him to the city, but the veterano Viriginio is stubborn and suspicious and generational conflict ensues. The film is beautifully shot by Barbara Alvarez and the landscape becomes the fourth protagonist and primary antagonist. The simplicity of the story feels as though it coalesces with the ruggedly beautiful landscape and the urgency of the film’s thematic. There’s no space for embroidery when it comes to the seismic issue of climate change. Nevertheless, the intergenerational conflict delivers drops of humour which provide humanity to this stark tale. It’s also notable how effective Utama’s storytelling is in comparison to that of the director’s father’s feature, Averno. Where Averno was over-ambitious, Utama feels as though it has been, wisely, pared back to the bone. 

averno (w&d marcos loayza)

Obviously you want to like a film made in Bolivia that’s won a prize at BAFICI for best Latin American Film, that’s reached Montevideo, that sounds enticing. A reworking of the Theseus myth, set in the La Paz underworld. With larger-than-life characters, amazing locations, set against the backdrop of the Andes. If Averno does one thing, it affirms the photogenic possibilities of the Bolivian capital. Unfortunately, it doesn’t do much more, and ends up being a slightly tame, sub-Potter offering which isn’t nearly as bizarre as it perhaps likes to think it is. You can see Loayza’s intentions, to make a snappy, commercial film, something which is never easy to pull off. Perhaps it’s aimed at a younger demographic than mine, but Averno never lived up to its beguiling premise and I came out of the cinema feeling none the wiser about Bolivian society. Plenty of colour and an excess of Andino tropes, but a narrative that didn’t go anywhere left me longing for the Minatour to put Theseus out of his misery. 

affections [rodrigo hasbún]

Affections is somewhere between novel and novella. It tells the story of three sisters, daughters of one of Leni Riefenstahl’s cameramen, who emigrated to Bolivia after the war. He takes his daughters to search for Patiti, the lost city of the Incas, which he believes is located in the Bolivian Amazon. They results of the quest are inconclusive, but of course, as with all quests, it masks another, more torturous quest, which is the one that each of the girls will go on: the quest to harmonise their antithetical roots: German and Bolivian, Latin American and European. One will move back to Munich, the other will teach German in La Paz and the third, Monica, will become a Marxist guerrilla, a lover to one of the survivors of Che’s doomed mission to ferment revolution in Bolivia. 

This is more than enough material for a chunky novel, which Affections notably is not. It strings the sister’s stories together using various narrators (two of the sisters, Monica’s former lover, the guerrilla, etc). These monologues are brief, and almost feel like notes towards a novel as much as a novel itself. As such, as a book, Affections ends up, perhaps, flattering to deceive. The material is so rich, but the execution has all the weight of a butterfly’s wings. There is a lovely moment, in the jungle, when someone observes that butterflies, that thing of beauty, love dirt. This is typical of the writing, full of lovely shards, which never quite feel like they combine to give the premise the cathedral it deserves. It is fascinating to gain some glimpses into Bolivia’s post-war history, but these glimpses only leave the reader wanting more (not such a bad thing). Hopefully more of Hasbún’s more meatier work will soon be translated.