POPCORN REVIEWSS

Written by Iker Compean Leroux and Pierre Saint Martin Castellanos, one of the strongest aspects of the film We Shall Not Be Moved lies in the characterization of Socorro. She is a lawyer by profession but you see her living a life of solitude despite the presence of other individuals in her flat. For starters, she resides in an apartment within the Tlatelolco housing units in Mexico City, which was home to the massacre. There is a hint of guilt in her otherwise cheerful demeanor, something that she uses to mask the sorrows of her past. Another implication remains the idea of sticking onto this apartment, while residing in a housing unit where elevators aren’t functional – a trait that tells you a thing or two about Socorro being stuck in time. She wishes to stay away from the noise (read: the 20th floor), but ironically in the vicinity of the erstwhile massacre (read: trauma), silently hoping for justice.

You are witness to Socorro’s personal life being in disarray given how her obsession with seeking justice for her brother, has led to distance herself from her own sister Esperanza (Rebecca Manriquez). Life is all the more hard for Socorro given how she is at the end of her professional career, leaving her mind to further wander and indulge in the realms of justice for her brother. In fact, her obsession over the years has been so desperate, that she had chosen to name her own son after her brother – Jorge (Pedro Hernandez). Jorge remains unemployed, partly due to the systematic failure of the state and partly due to his own obsession of taking care of his mother, something that annoys his pregnant wife Lucia (Agustina Quinci). In fact, you see Lucia being one of the few people that Socorro is shown to be talking too, even as she wishes to share the ghosts of her past while Socorro only wishes her to use her looks for gaining vital information about her brother.

There is an absurdist undertone to the proceedings that evokes a satirical sense of black humour along the way. For instance, Socorro encounters a clue about the soldier who may have killed her brother during the massacre, prompting her to extract revenge. It is an indifferent sentiment for an elderly character who may be at the fag end of her own life, but instead is stuck in time. She arm-twists a fellow personnel Siddartha (Jose Alberto Patino) on the pretext that she had once saved him from going to prison, wanting him to investigate and trace the existence of the soldier while in-turn helping her to extract revenge. There is also her senior masked to an oxygen cylinder (and perhaps her love interest at some point) – Candiani (Juan Carlos Colombo), with whom she indulges in adult talks in order for him to help her with information. It must be noted that Socorro holds no real affinity for Candiani or Siddartha, wanting to use them as pawns in the larger scheme of things.

I liked how the absurdist nature of the drama goes hand-in-hand with the various symbolisms in play. At a vital point in the narrative, you see Socorro contemplating on using her gun to extract revenge for her brother’s death. But as a parallel, you see her being distanced from her own family – some represented through birds and animals. For instance, a moment of anger on her part ends with the death of a pigeon, with whom she shared a warm bond until them. In another instance, you see a cat vomitting after being poisoned, a representation of her own self who finds herself in inner turmoil. It must be noted on how her son Jorge and her daughter-in-law Lucia have left her, along with Siddantha…thereby leaving her with no company, barring her sister whom she isn’t on talking terms with.

The idea of acceptance and the art of letting go are touched upon in a final act that is reflective in many ways, even as Socorro’s character arc circles to a sense of realisation. It isn’t as if she is completely healed, but you see the idea of letting go, almost signalling a sense of change. Be it the realisation of the supposed soldier taking her to a hospital despite being aware of her wanting to kill him, or the idea of burning the final photograph of her deceased brother to ashes, you see a change in Socorro who finally hss decided to move on. Sometimes life is just about sharing a toast with your loved one(s) (in this case Socorro’s sister Esperanza), no matter how burnt the toast is. In that sense, the ending gives the title of the film a new meaning, deviating from the traditional anthem of resilience in the social and political setup. Living in the moment while moving on from your past trauma , is a direct takeaway here summing up a screenplay that is beautifully poetic and achingly poignant.