Fractured mother/daughter relationships make ripe stories for some of the most compelling cinema, even when they are versions of the same tale we’ve seen time and time again. That statement certainly applies to Querido Trópico (Beloved Tropic), a Panamanian drama that is the first narrative feature from director Ana Endara (who has four feature-length documentaries under her belt).
Set in Panama City, the film centers around Ana María (Jenny Navarrete), a Colombian immigrant whose prior experience working with the elderly leads to her accepting a job as a live-in caregiver for Mercedes (Paulina García), an upper class woman struggling with early onset dementia. Ana María’s motivation for taking the job stretches beyond needing a paycheck; she’s pregnant with no partner or family nearby, and Mercedes’ oft-absent daughter Jimena (Juliette Roy) hired her with the promise that she would help her obtain her papers.
The initially chilly professional relationship between Ana María and Mercedes evolves into something closer and more profound the more time they spend together. The desire to care and be cared for, specifically from a female perspective, permeates all of their interactions, particularly after Mercedes discovers a secret Ana María has been keeping. Endara cites the widely-held idea across Latin American cultures that a woman is incomplete until she has children as one of the key concepts driving Querido Trópico, which is ultimately concerned with exploring the various different experiences of motherhood that reach beyond conventionally-held ideas about family. This is especially true as the found family aspect of the story takes over, with Mercedes, even in her increasingly debilitating state, grows closer to and more comfortable with Ana María than she does with her blood family. Endara illustrates this with a particularly strikingly-composed sequence at Mercedes’ birthday party toward the end of the movie. As Mercedes’ large, multi-generational family gathers in the lush garden of her home, they assemble to take family photos. Ana María helms the camera as various combinations of the characters move in and out of the frame under Jimena’s direction, Mercedes’ irritation at the prolonged and superficial practice subtly yet visibly growing with every second. But when, after everyone else has dispersed, Mercedes requests a photo with Ana María, Jimena makes an excuse that maybe they can later. Ultimately, Ana María is the only person left to take real care of Mercedes when events shift from a classy, Instagram-worthy party to something messier, the rest of the family leaving them in isolation.
The story itself, which Endara co-wrote with Pilar Moreno, is slight, and the obvious dialogue admittedly doesn’t always hit. Jimena is particularly one-dimensional as the neglectful daughter for much of the movie (although Roy is able to pull her guilt and regret out of her performance). But Endara finds the real emotion of the story in the images. There’s a tactility not only to her frames— the textured images include close-ups on bird feathers, plants, and raindrops— but how sound is used within them. Nature plays a key role in the movie, evident not only from its title but from the opening scene. As Ana María peacefully gazes through a window, the camera slowly pulls back to reveal her looking at the rows of babies wiggling in their beds in a hospital maternity ward, but the scene isn’t accompanied by the noise of hurried feet and wailing children; rather, the tranquil sounds of wood chimes, birds chirping, and rain and wind play over the scene. Throughout the film, Ana María and Mercedes appear happiest and most at-ease when they are outdoors, surrounded by wide open spaces, even when they’re being pummeled by pounding rain. It’s a stark contrast to the scenes set indoors. Even in Mercedes’ palatial home, there’s a claustrophobic edge to those moments, in which characters are often tucked away in bathrooms or closets, and the proximity to not only sickness and decay but the stifling class divide that stands between Ana María and Mercedes and her family become that much more apparent.
Querido Trópico may not be a breath of fresh air; there’s never a moment, outside of a surprise reveal early in the film, where the story’s direction and the characters’ arcs aren’t predictable. But it is a tender film buoyed by committed performances and a director with an eye for visual storytelling. It’s contained, but to its benefit, as its depiction of how people can enter our lives for only a brief moment in time but still change them entirely is pulled even more to the forefront.
Querido Trópico had its world premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival on September 8. Runtime: 108 minutes.
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